Oof I have a craving for Jealous!Alexios, but I can't decide between post-Deimos Alexios or just good ole Regular Alexios?? It's an ongoing struggle! But then I'm also intrigued at Alexios meeting Eivor, or post-Deimos Alexios fighting alongside Kass and absolutely LOSING it when she gets injured in battle? I... *sigh*... take your pick if any of these interest you! I trust you and your writing :P
sorry it took so long, but here ya go! went with jealous Deimos, hope you don’t mind.
Deimos!Alexios x fem!Reader
DEIMOS ADJUSTS THE bronze fibulae at his shoulder, shifting around on his feet —uncomfortable with how vulnerable he feels wearing the deep scarlet exomis. He is not used to being without the black-and-gold armor of the Cult nor without his sword but tonight duty demands it. Part of his unease fades as he watches you on the opposite side of the room.
The nigh threadbare material of your chiton puddles around your feet, but you are quick to slide into the deep blue peplos. “Aphrodite would be envious,” he remarks moving to stand before you, in his hand is a golden necklace with red and green stones. Warmth rushes to your cheeks at his flattery —he had been doing that often as of late. Pulling your hair aside, Deimos drapes the jewelry over your head, securing the hook clasp at the back of your neck.
“It’s not wise to invoke her wrath, Deimos,” you chide. The goddess rarely took kindly to being compared to mortals. He rolls his eyes and unwittingly reaches out, thumb tracing over your cheek —tinted pink with crushed rose and red wine. The urge in his heart says to give into years of longing and kiss you, but there is a lump in his throat, and it does not fade. You look up at him, wondering what thoughts plague his mind, and why he ignores the clear connection time has forged between you. Sighing, you step back, and his hand falls back to his side —clenching into a tight fist. “We should go,” you remind him. Deimos nods.
Samos is unlike the rest of the Greek world, despite the corruption of its leader —it is peaceful and prosperous. The agora of the polis is filled with famed Samian wine and oils coveted by Athenian citizens and Olympic athletes alike. Compared to the busy streets of Kirrha and the constant influx of pilgrims seeking wisdom in Delphi, you think a quiet place such as this would not be such a terrible place to live. The thought brings a distant dream back to the forefront of your mind as you look around the seaside city and to Deimos at your side. Maybe one day we can stay in a place like this, you think.
“I despise these things,” he says, brows settling into a deep furrow as you both stop at the villa’s entrance. Deimos preferred to keep to himself if he could not be with you, and he dreads large gatherings —like the one you must attend tonight. The Cult suspects Lasthenes of Samos is dealing information to their adversaries and slowing them from reaching their goals in the Southern Sporades. They have sent their champion to find if there are any truths in the rumors —you accompany him as a temper. Of all the people in Hellas, only you could quell the fire when it burned too hot in Deimos.
You reach for his hand out of impulse —surprised when he slips his fingers between yours. “I don’t care for them either,” you tell him, something about symposiums always puts you on edge, “but at least we’re together.” His lips kink into a fleeting smile, it feels like a small victory to know you are at his side. It does not last long, though as the ladies in attendance sweep you away into conversation, leaving the men to the andron and courtyard.
Time blurs with the droning gossip, tiring of the talk you slip down the stairs from the rooftop and back to the courtyard, eyes scanning those gathered for Deimos. He is not to be seen. Sighing, you turn your sights to the kitchen —eager to fill your belly with wine. Your plan is thwarted when Lasthenes approaches, a serpent’s smile crossing his pinched face. The leader of Samos is garbed in fine robes bought with the blood of innocents.
“Aphrodite has come to visit Samos it seems,” Lasthenes remarks, lifting a jeweled hand to your cheek. You step away from the leader, turning your cheek away from his unwelcome touch. Deimos lingers just out of sight, the blood in veins beginning to boil. “Tell me how I know every face on this island–” Lasthenes steps toward you again, you back hitting one of the marble columns surrounding the perimeter of the courtyard “–and yet I have never seen yours.” It was uncommon for strangers to be invited to his symposiums —even the hetaerae had familiar faces.
You know why Deimos had been sent to Samos and Lasthenes would be more apt to dispel an accidental truth to you rather than him. Drawing in a long breath, you decide to play along. “I have traveled all the way from Delphi to be here tonight,” you tell the leader, taking the offered cup of wine. That much is true, you and Deimos had sailed from Phokis nigh a week ago and had spent two nights on Samos, waiting for tonight.
“The Goddess of love and beauty has travelled far, then,” Lasthenes says, silver-tongue not missing a beat. You laugh, brushing back what hair slips from its bindings and taking a gulp of the sweet watered wine. “Is it to your taste?” He inquires. You nod in response, though before you can speak another man, garbed in Persian robs interrupts —leaning close to whisper something in his ear.
It is not so low that you cannot overhear, though. He speaks of a meeting between a Spartan general and Persian merchant and you can make out the name Perikles on the man’s lips, too. “I’ll be there shortly,” Lasthenes replies, turning his attention back to you. “Those affairs can wait,” he assures, resting his hand on your arm, “I’d like to learn of the goddess before me.” You force a smile and however insincere it may be, Lasthenes takes no notice of it.
When the leader motions toward a private room, you spot Deimos among those gathered alas. His face is almost as red as the exomis he wears, and his hands are clenched into fight fists at his sides. You recognize the cold anger in his dark eyes, but there is something else too. Deimos storms from the villa. Had it been up to his digression, Lasthenes would be dead —anyone suspected of trading secrets would be inclined to actually do it for the right incentives. But that is not all that weighs on his mind as he leaves the symposium.
Your gaze follows Deimos until you can no longer see him. “I have to go,” you announce, somewhat apologetic while looking back over your shoulder at the leader —noticing the suspicion growing in his stare. Lasthenes says nothing as he watches you leave.
Finding Deimos is not difficult as he often ends up on a beach when something has gone wrong or is bothering him. He paces back-and-forth on the white sand before the villa. To anyone else he is a caged animal in these moments —dangerous and to be avoided— but to you he is still Deimos. You step into his path, placing your hand on the center of his chest. “Deimos,” you sigh, “what is it?” His dark gaze flicks downward before he looks at you.
Then you see the glint in his tawny-gold eyes and understand why is acting this way. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you tell him, lips turning upward into a smile. He huffs, brows furrow, though now his anger has faded. You move the hand on his chest up to his cheek —tracing over the scar below his eye. Had it not been for having to leave earlier, perhaps something could have happened between the two of you.
Without thinking, you push up onto your toes, if Deimos will not act then you will. Your lips find his under the silver light of the moon and stars. His hands are quick to settle on your hips, pulling you closer. It feels like a dream and if it is, Deimos never wishes to wake. All his unease fades into nothing. Feet entangled in the excess fabric of your peplos, you topple forward —not expecting it, both you and Deimos fall back into the sand.
“You don’t have to worry about anyone else, Deimos,” you confess. Flattery and gifts could never buy your love or affection, for your heart already belonged to another. His fingers brush your cheek, moving back into your hair. Despite his sour mood and what had transpired at the symposium, his gaze is soft as he fights to hold back a smile. “My heart is yours.” It had been for some time.
You do not expect Deimos to say anything in turn —he is a man of few words and it may take him a while to find the right ones to say. But the way he kisses you is more than enough for now. Deimos holds you close under a clear night sky —waves breaking softly on the shoreline— as you exchange tender caresses and slow kisses, making up for lost time.
Pumpkin or apple // cocoa or cider // halloween or thanksgiving // leaf piles or apple picking // hay ride or corn maze (never been on one or to a corn maze tbh) // woolly sweater or furry slippers // pumpkin carving or knitting // squash or sweet potato // black cat or bat // skeletons or witches // fake blood or fake spiders // mashed potatoes or stuffing // orange or black // apple pie or maple donuts // marshmallows or candy corn // vampire or werewolf // fireplace or cozy nook // spiced wine or craft beer // candied apples or s'mores // big scarf or oversize hoodie
Tagging: @lizzy384, @noxelementalist, @ksfd89, @wallsarecrumbling, @the-army-brat-and-the-nerd, @hiraeth-doux, @creativityobsessed and anyone who wants to do it! No pressure. Please let me know if you like/don’t like being tagged in these things. :D
Hi!! I'm curious - do you have any headcanons about how Alexios, Deimos!Alexios (while he's still with the Cult or after he's left it) and Eiyvor would react or behave around their S.O. when they're pregnant?
prepare for fluff and make it double triple. hope you like these!
Alexios:
When you tell Alexios you’re with child, he’s over the moon with excitement. For so long he’s dreamt of a simple life and now there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes that you’ll be able to settle down —a real family.
He’s very proud and likes to boast about how he’s going to be a father to his friends —especially those in the Periklean Circle. Alexios praises you for carrying your child and basks in your new glow.
Alexios is still protective though —good luck on trying to talk him into letting you come on any type of mission, even during the early days. At least Barnabas and Herodotus are good company. Alexios also becomes increasingly wary of his strength —he checks a lot to make sure you’re still comfortable.
One of his favorite things to do is listen for the baby’s heartbeat or feel them kick. They’ll be a little warrior he tells you, beaming. He makes a habit to tell stories to the baby too —of legendary heroes and his exploits as a misthios. There’s soft adoration in his eyes, and you know all his doubts about being a horrible father are unfounded.
Placing your newborn babe in Alexios’ arms for the first time is enough to make him cry. They’re so tiny and innocent and by the gods, he’s never loved anyone so quickly and he’s never loved you more than he does now.
Deimos:
Deimos is terrified when you tell him what the physician had confirmed. He knows the Cult hunt his bloodline with the intent cleanse Hellas of those tainted, they would have no qualm about hurting you and the baby to achieve that goal.
He takes you somewhere safe —a small village in Lakonia, where not even the Cult can find you and makes sure you will be well taken care of. Whenever he’s given an assignment that takes him near the little village he checks-in and every time it is harder and harder to leave, but he promises he’ll be able to stay one day.
Deimos is equally protective even after he leaves the Cult. No one is going to be able to harm a hair on your head. Knowing you carry his child makes Deimos softer —he’s more aware of his strength, more apt to just hold you, and he’s made it a new habit to place soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks. You know this is the man he truly can be outside of the cult.
When you tell Deimos that you felt the baby move for the first time, he almost goes into a panic thinking something is wrong. But you take his hand, guide it to your belly and let him feel the small twitches and kicks. He sinks to his knees, tears in his eyes as he presses his head against your belly, holding you both close.
Either way, when Deimos holds your baby for the first time, he cannot help but feel terrified of doing something wrong and unworthy to hold something so pure and innocent. After all, his are the hands of a murderer —a monster. You adjust his arm and one of his hands and smile —an assurance that everything will be okay and that he’s going to do just fine.
Eivor:
Eivor is somewhere between shocked and overjoyed when you tell him the news. After having gone through so much by his side through the years, he never thought this day would come. But when you tell him you’re certain you are with child; he makes sure the whole village knows that night at a feast —announcing he’s to be a father with pride in his voice.
He likes carrying you everywhere, even when you're perfectly capable of walking. Eivor looks after you and the child. He brings back fresh meat and fish every day to have for supper —stating you should eat well so you will have a strong little warrior. And if you happen to wake with a strange craving for pickled herring or parsnips, he’ll make sure you get it.
Protective is an understatement; he’s seen too many couples lose unborn children and refuses to let that happen to you. Training is off-limits (you still sneak in one or two practice throws with your throwing knives, though). Eivor insists on doing all the hunting now too, but you won’t let him take over your house duties —independence has to be maintained somehow.
He likes holding you close at night, softly stroking your swelling belly and murmuring sweet nothings. Once the bump becomes more obvious, Eivor is sure to kiss your belly more, whispering promises to your child about how much he already loves them, and you. Eventually, he recites the tales of the gods while you run your fingers through his hair. Eivor is soft and caring and wonderful.
Eivor has held many babes before and knows what he is doing, but somehow holding his child still makes him worry that he’s going to do something wrong (even though he helped you and the healer deliver the babe). He brushes a thick, calloused finger over a small pink cheek, smiling when two tiny hands reach up to grasp onto his finger. A warrior indeed he remarks, leaning forward to kiss you.
Hiiii! Oooh hoo hoo, I'm in the mood for some paaain of the Deimos!Alexios variety if you please! Perhaps "I don't think I know how to love..." and/or "Don't. I'm not good for you. Don't even think about falling for me." I love this boy so much, he makes me feel EVERYTHING.
Deimos pain? I am the dealer of Deimos pain. Hope you like this!
Deimos!Alexios x fem!Reader
GENTLE IS NOT how one would describe Deimos —the bane of Sparta and Athens, a demigod and champion— but if you had to choose one word, gentle would be it. He had found you during a fort assault bound in the polemarch’s chambers; wrists and ankles bloody and raw from struggling against the ropes. When Deimos appeared through the smoke, he looked like a harbinger of death garbed in gold-and-white armor streaked black by smoke and running red with the blood of Athenians.
Deimos had carried you from the burning ruins to a war galley with the seal of Phokis emblazoned on the sail. His hands were rough as they cleaned and dressed the bloody wounds with a sweet-smelling salve. After, he had looked up at you with clear tawny-gold eyes burning with warmth. “Are you hurt?” He asked, voice a low, soothing rasp. All you could do was shake your head.
Rolling onto your side, you take in his sleeping form —painted silver by moonlight. Deimos’ expression is at ease and his chest rises and falls in a slow, even rhythm. Transfixed, you reach out tracing a scar on his breast with a feather-light touch. His lips twitch, kinking into a soft smile. He rolls onto his side too, facing you, eyes opening and adjusting to the dim light. “What is it?” Sleep still fogs his voice, the words slurring together. Deimos catches your hand, holding it flat against his chest —under your palm you can feel the strong thump of his heart.
“I had a dream about you,” you whisper, leaning closer. You had lost count of the days that passed since he carried you to safety, but now it had been months —a distant memory. He raises a dark brow. “About when we first met,” you add, and Deimos runs his thumb across your wrist, following the scar left behind by the ropes. He had not expected to find you that day, but he is glad for it. It feels good to have a kind soul to return to after assignments from the Cult. Someone to tend his wounds and wake him from nightmares. Life has not been as cruel since you elected to stay with him.
But now, there is a glint in your eyes he has not seen before —or has been unable to place until now— and it stalls his heart. You slide the hand on his chest up to his cheek, tracing over the short scar there too. Everything falls into place —you love him, and he can see it written on your countenance and knows your actions reflect the same sentiments. "Don't,” Deimos breathes, almost pleading, “I'm no good for you.” He is a weapon —a monster. “Don't think about falling for me.” He does not want you to get hurt because of who he is.
You run your fingers over his brow, smoothing out the deep furrows. It is difficult to say when you came to the realization. Perhaps it was when he took you back to your home to see (or stay with) your family. Or one time when you had seen him bloody and half-conscious, muttering to the physician that he wanted to see you —and only you. “It’s too late for that,” you muse, both your hands moving to cradle his face —eyes tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw and nose. “I love you,” you tell him, no room for uncertainty in the whispered confession. Love is the only thing that could explain how you felt toward Deimos.
He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. I do not deserve this he thinks but he wants to love you —he does love you. “I don't think I know how to love,” Deimos admits, his voice cracking. Chrysis has told him time and time again that love is weakness and has no place in the Cult’s champion —he is certain now it had been another lie told by the priestess.
“Well I think you do a rather good job,” you remark, and a smile threatens to form on his lips. Deimos has never hurt you in action or words. Ever since the day you had met, he had been nothing but gentle, kind, and attentive, albeit you could tell when he was temperamental some days. “You’re good to me and for me,” you assure him. He falls silent, golden eyes flitting back-and-forth across your face. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”
Deimos is a man of few words. He speaks through action as he does now upon surging forward, closing the space between you. His lips are rough against your own, as are his hands when they slide up your sides and arms. You have kissed him before, many times, yet this feels like the sweetest kiss you ever felt. It ends too quickly and before either of you can recover your breath, you are kissing him again —another short, meaningful kiss.
Pulling back, Deimos gathers you in his arms, he does not say anything, but he holds you tighter —unwilling to let go. Deimos runs his fingers along your shoulder and through your hair, quietly sighing to himself. When he thinks you are asleep again, his lips brush against your temple and the words that pass through them are quieter than a gentle spring breeze. I love you too he murmurs and a moment later Deimos feels you smile against his chest.
five things about my personality or traits that I like…
i’m loyal
i’m caring
i’m a good listener
i don’t give in to peer pressure
i am a good planner
five things I want for this year…
to become more organized
get back into reading
write more consistently
do more cardio
be more open
Tagging: @lizzy384, @love-geeky-fangirl, @clarkenting, @stellaluna33, @wisp-of-a-spook, @wallsarecrumbling, and anyone who wants to do this! No pressure. Please let me know if you like/don’t like being tagged in these things. :D
Sidenote, thank you for filling the void that is a lack of Alexios and Eivor fics in this world! Reading your stories honestly makes my days so much better and brighter, and I love the passion you have for creating them!!
♥️♥️ thank you! im so glad you enjoy my stories and take the time to reblog/comment. i always look forward to reading your tags too!
Rules: List your top ten favourite women from the different fandoms and tag ten different people.
1. Lois Lane (Smallville)
2. Joan Watson (Elementary)
3. Peggy Carter (MCU)
4. Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls)
5. Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice)
6. Brooke Davis (One Tree Hill)
7. Rachel Zane (Suits)
8. Monica Geller (Friends)
9. Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)
10. Diana Prince (DCEU)
Tagging: @htbthomas, @unacaritafeliz, @clarkenting, @missmeggo929, @wallsarecrumbling, @foxyiroxy, @libertyroswell, @xenokattz, @ksfd89, @stellaluna33 and anyone who wants to do this! If you don’t, no pressure, and please let me know if you don’t like being tagged or even if you would like to be! :D
