#and he could find them physically attractive ofc but

[radiaking]

coop is obvs partial to the good girls (and guys tbh) but he is not immune to the Bad Girls(TM) either....they just can't be like. evil.

[angellic4l]

boys, bets, and sobriquets - d.m

in which; fem!bau!reader and derek make a deal that causes an argument 3 months later

content: tw! reader has something similar to an anxiety attack but it isn’t specified as that! flirty!derek, bau!reader, hurt comfort (?), angst, fluff, there’s a ‘bet’ made, reader has a shitty date, swearing/cussing, they argue ofc, one bed trope.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: my first ever request!! i’m so honoured and just happy that someone trusted me with their vision, i hope this is what you wanted angel! kisses!

Faint sounds of the regular office shenanigans danced around the bullpen; soft clicks of computer keyboards, Reid flipping the pages of some obscure novel at a super human speed, Andersen brewing a pot of coffee, and the scrawl of your pen on a case file all coming together to sing the corporate symphony.

One noise was missing though, the sound of Derek’s chair moving side to side as he talks to everyone and anyone possible rather than actually doing his work. His voice rings out from by the glass doors and your head rises from the manilla folder to see what’s going on. His eyes meet yours, an arrogant, self-satisfied smirk on his face, one that tells you he actually got the new receptionist’s number.

Morgan takes his seat across from yours, looking at you expectantly, awaiting your questioning of his absence or why he’s so happy. Instead, you shake your head at him but the smile on your face betrays your mock disapproval. With a soft sigh, your hand loosens its grip around the pen, letting it drop to the oak desk beneath you.

“Alright, I’ll bite. You got the receptionist’s number, I’m guessing?”

“Number? No, no, baby girl, I got a date and her number. You underestimate my charm.”

“Right, I forgot that you were such a CasaNova.”

“I prefer the term irresistible, sugar.”

“This actually works for you? The whole cocky womaniser thing?”

“I’m not cocky. It’s called confidence. And a little sweet talking.”

“Oh, I’m sure they all love your ‘confidence’. I refuse to believe any respectable woman would fall for that,” you tease, tone making it clear you’re joking.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t fall for all of this,” he retorts, hand gesturing from his face down to his torso.

“In all seriousness, I really wouldn’t. You’re not my type, D.”

“Not your type? Sugar, don’t play with me right now.”

“I’m not! I just wouldn’t fall for it, it’s not my thing.”

“Let’s make a bet, then. I flirt with you-“

“Absolutely not,” you scoff.

“Let me finish! I flirt with you, you flirt with me, and we’ll see who falls first.”

You ponder his words for a while, going through it in your head. Morgan’s physically attractive, sure, but almost everybody thinks that. With your time at the BAU, you figure if you were going to fall for him, it would’ve happened already. Fuck it, why not?

“You’re on, Morgan. Be warned, you’re gonna fall in love with me.”

That little bet was made 3 months ago. You remember it like it was yesterday because it was the day you subjected yourself to the worst fate possible. Falling fast and hard for Derek Morgan.

Now, every time he flirts with you and you flirt back, it just stings. It’s like a cruel snippet of what could be if he liked you back, if you swallowed your pride and let him win, if you would just tell him. Instead, you reciprocate the flirting, keep your pride intact by never admitting anything, and keep your feelings for him a secret.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A ringing noise rouses you from sleep, the soft vibration of your phone reverberating throughout the oak nightstand to the left of you. It’s not the sound of your alarm, and based on how the only light your eyes had to adjust to came from your phone, you suspect it’s a phone call instead. Another case, presumably.

Tired limbs scramble to find the phone, your hands fumbling until they feel it beneath them, and you pick up without even looking at the contact name. Sleep has yet to leave your body, still lingering like a phantom, so your voice is groggy when you speak.

“Hello?”

“Hi, angel. You know I hate to do this, but Hotch needs everybody in the office in 30. Urgent case,” a soft, saccharine voice rings out, one you recognise as Penelope’s.

“M’kay. Be there soon, Penny. Love you.”

“I love you too, dear,” she says before the line goes dead, leaving you in silence once more.

As you pull the phone away from your ear, your eyes catch the time displayed on the phone: 2:36 AM. A groan escapes your lips when you realise it had only been 5 hours since you left the BAU, 3 of which you’d been asleep for. Being called in after just coming back from a case was annoying, but this soon was just infuriating.

By the time you were at the BAU, it was safe for anybody to say, profiler or not, that your mood was absolutely sour. Since Penelope had called you back in, your day had only gotten worse. While in a rush to get ready, hands flying everywhere to rag clothes on, you’d managed to lose an earring. On the way into work, someone had cut you off at an intersection, causing you to slam on your brakes, ultimately sending your coffee all over the passenger seat.

Operating on 3 hours of sleep was easy enough, standard for most FBI agents, especially for you. That wasn’t the issue here, no, it was the fact that you’d been called in after just returning from a week’s long case, the act somehow triggering an infuriating chain of events for you, leaving you earringless, coffeeless, and bitter.

Once everyone else had arrived, it was clear they could sense the sourness radiating from you, only sharing small greetings instead of sparking up a conversation. Hotch announced the briefing would be done on the plane to save time, prompting everyone to grab their go-bags and start to move.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After shoving your go-bag into the overhead space, more aggressively than needs be, you take a seat around one of the tables and watch as the others follow suit. Everyone seems almost hesitant to sit next to you, hovering before sitting somewhere else, disrupting the order of everyone’s usual seats. It’s sort of understandable, it’s obvious that you’re in a mood of some sorts and they’re probably just trying to give you breathing room, but it’s only annoyed you a little more.

Morgan ends up taking the seat next to you of his own free will, considering there were still 3 empty seats he could’ve sat in. Usually, you’d be happy to have Morgan sit next to you, but most of your conversations involve playful flirting, something you’re not in the mood for right now.

What doesn’t help is your growing feelings for him; on a normal day, playful flirting is hard because you know it doesn’t mean anything, but today isn’t a normal day. Today, you’re pissed off and tired, and the thought of entertaining something that’s only going to make you feel worse is utterly dreadful.

Maybe he’ll spare you, you think, he knows that you’re not in the mood for it, so he might just leave it alone and not say anything. Hotch’s voice steals your attention from the thought, pulling your focus to the case at hand instead.

The briefing moves fast, ideas being bounced around like a ping pong ball being bounced off the pegs in an arcade game, everybody collaborating with different theories, or building on someone else’s. Garcia searches what she can based on the few things you can all profile for certain, but it’s clear that this case won’t be an easy one.

The killer is experienced, that much is obvious, but that means he’s killed before. Where, none of you are sure because VI-CAP doesn’t have a match for the M.O you’ve all decided on. It’s not looking good for the BAU, the case is probably going to span over a week and the thought makes you even more annoyed.

Garcia’s face vanishes from the plasma screen across from you as the team starts to spread out throughout he jet, following the end of the briefing. Majority of the time, you’d sit yourself at the back of the jet and listen to music until you fell asleep, or talk to somebody, but you’re too tired to move from this chair.

Apparently, Morgan shares the same sentiment, unmoving from the spot next to you. Any and all hope of him leaving you alone starts to dissipate, knowing that Derek’s chatty, especially with you, has you dreadfully anticipating his conversation. With your luck, or lack thereof today, it comes.

“Hey, pretty girl. How’s my favourite bombshell?”

“Okay. ‘M just tired.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right, sunshine?”

“Morga-“

“-‘Cause, you haven’t given me any of those sweet names, you’re not even looking at me, and your body language is telling me you’re pissed. What’s wrong, sugar?”

Morgan’s analysis fills you with fear - sure, he’s a profiler and even if he wasn’t, it’s obvious you’re in a shitty mood, but it’s not that - you make sure to hide any tells of the anxiety you’re experiencing. If Morgan can rattle all of that off with so much as one look at you, he’s been profiling you for a while. That means he knows. He knows that you like him. And he still flirts with you anyway?

Even if you didn’t think it possible, you’re even more pissed off with that fact, hell, you’re angry. Who on Earth flirts with someone they know has feelings for them? It’s cruel, hurtful, and disrespectful, none of which you thought Derek was, but clearly you’ve wildly misjudged him.

“What happened to ‘we don’t profile each other’? God, you’re such a dick, Morgan.”

“Hey, what? Mama, what is going on with you?” He asks, clear exasperation and confusion written on his face. You bite down a scoff because of course, he’s playing dumb to it.

“The fact that you’re asking is evidence enough. So obsessed with your own pride that you can’t even see what you’re doing to the people around you? Really? God, Morgan, it’s like you don’t even have eyes,” you snap, tone sharp and cutting.

“Mama, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Back up for a second, obsessed with my own pride? Is this you talking or are you in one of those ‘man-hater’ moods again?”

Morgan’s use of the words ‘man hater mood’ take you back to an incident last month. You bristle at the fact he’s bringing that up, even more so that he doesn’t believe you’re actually mad at him.

It was a Saturday night and you had a date planned, one that, due to the demands of the job, had been rescheduled three times. This time was lucky, though, because you had no case, no paperwork, and no reports due. The guy was lovely, so understanding every time you’d had to reschedule, and he was handsome, too.

Once you’d left work, giddy and smiling to yourself on the drive home, the only thing going through your head was how excited you were for the date. A week before that, you and the girls had gone shopping together, scouring D.C’s small boutiques and high end stores. While with Emily in one of the boutiques, the cutest outfit had caught your eye, it was perfect; your favourite colour, exactly your style, and looked incredibly flattering when you’d tried it on. The girls convinced you to wear it on your date, commenting on how gobsmacked the guy’d be, so you bought it.

After restyling your hair and slipping into the beautiful outfit, you were putting your shoes on at the front door. Midway through slipping your shoes on, your phone buzzed on the side table in the hallway, with bated breath, you crossed your fingers and wished it wasn’t a case. What was on the screen was infinitely worse, though.

date

hey, i don’t think this’ll work. you’re too unreliable for me. kinda crazy you cancelled 3 times for ‘work’ and can now suddenly meet up because we changed it to a restaurant.

To say you were in a foul mood the next day would be the understatement of the century. To cancel because of his reason was insane for many reasons, but the two that pissed you off the most stuck. One - that the date had changed on his accord. The weather wasn’t the greatest, so instead of the picnic in the park that was planned, he’d asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant instead. Two - that he cancelled right before the date, as if he’d just suddenly had a change of heart when he’d clearly summed you up as a gold digger long before.

As you’d walked into the BAU and sat at your desk across from Derek’s, he didn’t notice your mood straight away because he hadn’t looked up yet. So, he operated as usual:

“Good morning, angel. How’s the prettiest lady in the whole FBI?”

“Ugh, don’t even. I’m really not in the mood today, D.”

With that he looked up and his brows immediately furrowed in concern at the annoyed expression on your face, dark circles under your eyes, and the way the light in your eyes had dimmed.

“What’s up? Someone I have to beat up?”

“I hate men. Fucking hate them. They’re all so grimey and disgusting and fucking horrible.”

“Don’t generalise us, sweetheart. What have I ever done to you?”

Instead of giving him a verbal response, you just shot him a glare before turning on your computer and carrying on with your day.

Contrary to your own belief, you could get even angrier than you were, even more annoyed than you thought possible for the already shitty day you’ve been having, and Morgan’s the main reason for this revelation at the moment.

He’s still looking at you, awaiting your answer to his question with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, you turn your head to look at him, tongue poking the inside of your mouth in some futile attempt to control it. It doesn’t work.

“Wow. You genuinely don’t believe that I could be mad at you, that it’s some other guy’s fault, huh? I’m not in a ‘man hater’ mood, I’m just mad at you! You don’t see what you’re doing Morgan, you’re oblivious to it, and it’s pissing me off.”

“Baby gi-“

“-Just leave me alone, Morga-“

“- Fine.”

A scoff leaves your lips, bitter on your tongue as it escapes because you know you shouldn’t have said it. You know you shouldn’t have opened your mouth, told him how you feel in such a snappy way. You’re in a bad mood, having let the small things get to you, and you like Derek so much that his pet names and his flirting spark fire where they should leave warmth.

As if on cue, he rises from the seat next to you and walks down the aisle in a huff, sits down in an empty seat, and shoves his headphones in. Great. On top of your so-far shitty day, you’ve managed to push away the one person who makes everything instantly better. Probably squashed the tiny chance of him ever liking you back, too.

A sharp pang in your chest leaves you feeling sick, the hurt manifesting itself as something physical deep inside, and you wish you weren’t so difficult. Instead of talking, just simply saying today was going horribly and it had affected your mood, you’d let your astringent tongue take over.

The child inside of you wants to curl up in the fetal position, cry a million rivers over a boy, feel sorry for itself while simultaneously picking at every insecurity she harbours. Instead, you opt for sleeping, a temporary escapism from the shitty position you’ve put yourself in, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After landing in Montana, you’re woken up by Emily’s gentle hand on your shoulder, shaking you ever so slightly. The rest of the team was already making their way off of the jet, go-bags in hand, walking off in a line due to the small aisle. Once your limbs were a bit more awake, you stood up and followed suit.

The team went from the jet to the SUV’s, making their way to the Livingston police department. Your car was semi-silent, the only noises to be heard are the small murmurs of Reid and JJ in the back of the SUV and silent melodies from the radio.

You’re in the passenger seat next to Hotch, while Morgan sits to the left of JJ and Spencer. Usually, he’d be involved in their conversation, cracking jokes and laughing his ass off with them. Instead, he’s silent. The absence of his voice rings loudly in your ears, guilt taking root in the ashes of the previous anger that once burned. It’s your fault he’s not being himself, you just had to open your mouth when you were in a mood, didn’t you?

Eyes watch him discreetly through the rearview mirror, his arms crossed over his chest, half sunken into the leather seat, brooding. Derek’s demeanour and body language is far from how he usually is, distant and angry instead of present and bubbly. He looks so different when he’s like this; distant and angry, far from his bubbly self.

For the rest of the day, it stays the same, Derek seemingly not himself, the same surly expression on him all day. Every time you look at him, it hurts - knowing that it’s because you couldn’t control yourself, you let your emotions take over rational thought - and the pangs of guilt become excruciating by the hour.

By the time Hotch decides to call it a night and have everyone head back to the hotel, your heart physically hurts with all of the guilt that’s pressing on it and the longing tugging at it. All you’ve wanted for the past 3 months is for the flirting between you and Morgan to be real, to have him feel the same way about you as you do him. At some point, the flirting started to weigh you down, leave you with an empty feeling in the deep pits of your stomach, and a yearning so strong that it seemed pathetic.

Realistically, the silly ‘bet’ was only ever going to go one of two ways. The pair of you would have distanced, one of you would’ve pushed the other away so that you didn’t have to experience a taste of what could be before it was ripped away from you. Alternatively, all restraint one of you had would’ve snapped, the fight to not let the other win, the pride you both held so dearly would’ve lost i’s fuel, resulting in a confession from either side. In some weird, twisted way, it’d managed to be both of them on your end.

Without realising, a sigh escapes your lips as you walk in a huddle with the team into the hotel’s lobby, pulling you out of your own thoughts. Head snapping up from the red carpet beneath your feet, your eyes lock with JJ’s, who’s giving you a questioning look. You find yourself responding with a shake of the head to tell her it’s nothing, then averting her gaze before she can tell that something’s up.

The group of weary, exhausted agents make their way to the front desk, all of you moving in a similar fashion to that of a pack of zombies.

The view would be funny if all of you weren’t aching for some much needed rest. Majority of you collapse into some couches while Hotch and Rossi go to get the keys from the front desk.

Both men return to the waiting area in the lobby after about 5 minutes, 4 sets of keys in hand. When you finally look up at them, your face contorts in confusion as to why there’s only 4 sets of keys when there’s 7 of you. As your lips part in anticipation to start asking questions, your brain answers them for you, recalling the information that was relayed to you all on the way to the airstrip, seemingly forgotten in the haze of your guilty, self-deprecating thoughts.

Shit.

Considering the case was so last minute, there were only 4 rooms available at the nearest hotel, so Hotch let everyone know they’d be sharing. To avoid any arguments and prolonged delay to sleep, everyone had agreed to pair with the same person as the last time you’d all had to share rooms. Hotch and Rossi, Emily and JJ, Spencer got his own room because of his aversion to germs, and you and Morgan.

You and Morgan. In a room together.

Clearly, the universe wasn’t done with sending you a chain of awful events today, because this had to take the fucking cake. Being in a room with Morgan has never been a bad thing, but you’ve also never argued with him and basically confessed that you like him. The words never explicitly left your mouth, but surely he’d figured it out a while ago based on your body language, right?

Hotch distributes the keys to someone from every pair, snapping you out of your thoughts once more as he holds a pair out to you. Tiredly, you take it before standing up and grabbing your bag with your other hand. Today has been long, excruciatingly so, you can just go to the room and fall asleep in your own bed. You think, an attempt to ease the unease that’s residing within you.

A gloomy Derek trails behind you, almost reluctantly if your profiling skills were still intact while being this tired, the sight sends another agonising sting of guilt through your heart. As shitty of him as it was to have profiled how you felt and still carry on flirting, he isn’t the only one who has blame in the situation - you agreed to the bet, you could’ve called the whole thing off, confessed your feelings and let him win, but you didn’t - you had your share in the whole thing, too.

The door lock clicks when you turn the key, opening the door to your new home for god knows how long, but you drop said keys on the floor when you get into the room. Similarly, Morgan comes to a stop behind you when he takes in the sight before you both, silence enveloping the room as you both remain still.

In the middle of the room, in between two windows, stood a double bed with an oak headboard. Not two single beds, or two twin beds, hell not even a bunk-bed like the one you’d both had to share in some dingy motel, no, it was a double.

Sharing a room with Morgan was okay before, you’d done it plenty of times in smaller towns or when the coordinator messed up the booking, but the pair of you had never shared a bed. It was even worse now because you weren’t on speaking terms, now that you’d basically confessed your feelings for him, now that you’d figured he profiled it a while ago.

When you realise you’ve been standing eerily still for a while, you can’t move to break it. Fear consumes your limbs, blocking any and all signals from your brain to the central nervous system, keeping you in place. The only thing you can think about is Morgan’s reaction to this; what does he think about it? Is he mad? Is he gonna walk out? How does he feel about what happened on the jet?

Suddenly, you realise you haven’t even thought about his reaction to anything you’d said, only going as far as to read his body language and determine he wasn’t acting like himself. You hadn’t thought about whether it’d be the end of your friendship, that he’d stop talking to you every day, and everything the two of you were would just fade into the background.

Unbeknownst to you, your hands had started shaking, induced by the onslaught of thoughts swirling in your head, trembling by your sides as if in a deadly chill. Morgan, however, notices the tremors of your hands almost immediately and steps in front of you before dropping his bag and taking your hands into his.

“Hey, hey, angel girl, I need you to breathe with me, okay?” His voice is soft and soothing before he mirrors a deep breath, exaggerating the sound and movement of his chest to draw your attention.

In response, you nod your head before taking a shaky breath in unison with Derek’s strong ones. Something wet rolls down your face, a tear escaping your lash line that you hadn’t even felt forming. Your hands stay in Morgan’s as you take deep breaths together, the raggedness of yours drifting away with each new intake of oxygen.

Once Morgan has deemed your breathing to be stable enough, he drops one of your hands before lifting his, now free, hand to your face, thumbs scooping away your tears.

“You’re okay now, sweetheart. You’re okay,” he almost whispers, voice so soft and sweet it might make you start crying all over again as the previous guilt kicks in once more.

A sniffle comes from you while he walks you to the bed, hands still intertwined, which he uses to gently pull you into a sitting position next to him. His thumb caresses your knuckles, running over them in a soothing motion, soft skin on top of yours grounding you.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you now, sweetheart?”

“Are you gonna stop pretending that you don’t already know?” You quip, turning your head to the side to look at him.

“Y/N, I am telling you, I really don’t know. It’s been racking my brain all damn day. If I’ve done something wrong, you can tell me and I’ll fix it.”

Another quip is on the tip of your tongue, but as you look into his brown eyes, really look at them, you realise he’s being genuine. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. Oh god, you owe him the biggest apology.

“You really don’t know?”

“Not a damn clue.”

“God, I feel stupid. This is so dumb.”

“Hey,” he lifts your chin with his fingers, “nothing you say could ever be dumb to me, pretty girl.”

“I’ve had such a shitty day. Like a really, really shitty one where everything goes wrong and I just let it all get to me. And then you profiled me on the jet and I thought you knew, but you don’t know, and I’ve been so, so horri-“

“-Wait, hold on, stop. Know what, angel?”

“..that you won. I lost,” you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting to see the recognition in his face, but it doesn’t come.

“I like you, Derek,” it comes out so quiet and meek, it’d be a miracle if he even heard it, but of course he does.

His reaction isn’t what you were expecting at all, not in the slightest. Instead of some cocky smirk, or an ‘I told you so’, he’s smiling. Genuinely smiling, pearly whites out and all, looking at you like you’re the only thing ever. He laughs and shakes his head before caressing your cheek.

“Both of us won, sweetheart. I like you, too,” he confesses, still gazing into your eyes as if they’re full of everything he’s ever wanted. Morgan tilts his head to the side before asking, “Garcia really didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you shake your head as if to confirm it, and then his words fully register, “Wait, she knew?!”

Before Morgan’s had the chance to say anything back, your hands darted into your pockets, searching for your phone until you’re pulling it out of your pocket. Just as you’re about to call her, Derek’s grabbing at your phone, causing you to wave your arm around to stop him from getting it.

“Hey, no, stop. Don’t you dare. Not yet,” he laughs as he continues his mission to steal your phone from you.

“No, ‘m gonna call her. Would you stop that? Derek!” You manage between giggles.

With both of you moving around so much, he leans too far, body going towards the bed, and wraps an arm around your waist to bring you down with him. Both of you are laughing while fighting over the phone, a fight that you’re still very much winning. That is, until he starts tickling your sides causing your laughter to grow louder and your grip on the phone to grow looser.

The phone falls onto the bed above your head, and he doesn’t even try to grab it, he just resumes his ministrations in your poor sides, tickling away. At some point, he’d end up hovering over you, so when he stops tickling you, you just stare up at him while catching your breath.

Morgan brings one of his hands up to your face, pushing a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear, before caressing your cheek once more. Both of your arms come up, hands locking behind his neck, and the both of you are leaning towards each other. Slowly, he leans down, lips ghosting over yours.

“My pretty girl. It’s about time, huh?”

Without giving you the chance to answer, he captures your lips with his, moving them softly over yours in a sweet, slow kiss. You kiss him back with the same saccharinity, savouring the feeling of his kiss, hands moving from his neck to his cheeks instead.

Due to your previous shortage of breath following his tickling ministrations, the kiss ends sooner than you wanted it to with Morgan pulling away so that he didn’t suffocate you. A petulant pout forms on your lips, to which he just shakes his head.

“Impatient are we, sugar?” He teases, grinning down at you, eyes full of adoration for you.

You hit his chest softly, pathetically really, considering you’re trained in hand to hand combat but the intention was never to hurt him. It serves as a warning, followed by a verbal one, of course.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me, not be mean to me.”

“Oh, I’m not being nice because I want you to breathe? That’s some pretty good logic there, sugar.”

“You know, you haven’t actually asked me to be your girlfriend yet. I could find someone who’s nice to me, instead.”

“Don’t you even think about it, silly girl.”

When he sees the determination on your face he drops his head down a little bit and sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before he lifts it again to look at you.

“Do I really have to ask? That’s so high school.”

A scoff leaves your lips before you deliver another soft hit to his chest, seemingly shocked at his words.

“Yes! If you don’t ask, it’s not real. Did you even watch rom-coms?”

“Alright, alright. Baby girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’ll have to think about that,” Morgan’s hands move to start tickling you again, prompting you to backtrack quickly.

“Morgan, no! Stop! I was kidding! Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend, now stop!”

A shrill shriek can be heard from somewhere in the room and you both jump up, bodies going into fight or flight. Morgan’s just about to reach for his gun in the holster when-

“FINALLY! OH MY GOD!”

Penelope’s voice comes from somewhere on the bed, loud and excited, but not loud enough to say she’s in the room with you both. Evidently, you remember faster than Morgan does because you pick up your phone from the bed to see that you had, in fact, called Penelope and she’d been on the line for 5 minutes. With a resigned sigh despite your smile, you and Derek just share a look that says; ‘Tomorrow’s going to be fun.’

taglist: @i-padfootblack-things (requester, ily), @floraisunwell (proofreader, ily!!), @darkmatilda

[gatorbites-imagines]

Shanks w male s/o who's love languages are physical affection & words of affirmation, who's a romantic but laid back. Some fluffy and smutty head canons if that's possible, with verse shanks?

(Might be a bit too specific and if so feel free to ignore completely, as with anything ofc: Reader has ADHD and a lot of history hyper fixations and does martial arts rather than swordsmanship)

Shanks x Male Reader

Headcanons

I love Shanks, I wanna put him in a box and shake it around and hear him rattle around.

You probably joined the crew later on after running into them many times over the years, maybe you and Shanks already had some kind of relationship without it being anything official. Thinks lotsa flirting and nights spent together whenever your paths cross.

Being a martial artist and running in the same circles as Shanks it means you’re most likely a master in your craft.

Sparring is most likely a type of foreplay for you two, even after you join his crew. The rest of the crew knows to keep at a distance when you two start riling the other up for a spar, since they all know where its leading nowadays.

I can see Shanks as someone who’s love language is also physical affection, so you two are always seen all over each other or hanging on the other. After Shanks lost his arm, it probably caused some issues since he had to get used to not being able to hold you at the same time as he did other stuff.

After losing his arm, you make sure to push him to his limits to make up for the struggle of having to be a skillful fighter with a missing limb. You may or may not reward him for his “achievements” whenever he passes a milestone, meaning he works even harder.

I don’t see Shanks as someone who blushes much, but he always finds himself smiling when you show affection through words of affirmation. It makes his insides do swoops and flips even if you guys have been together for years.

Your words of affirmation truly shine through after he loses his arm, since there’s part of him that probably feels like he is less attractive and desirable, especially since he can’t do the same things as before with only one arm.

This just means you have to show him you still love him all the same, much to the annoyance of your crew and especially Benn, since you and Shanks act like a pair of teenagers in your first relationship at times.

The physical affection bleeds through to the bedroom, resulting in stuff like body worship always being present one way or another. If you start praising and complimenting Shanks, I could see him getting red in the face from just how much you can come up with.

Even with one hand he still touches you all over, and he finds interesting ways to use his haki to keep it all interesting and fresh. He always gets a little too cocky in your opinion when he surprises you with whatever new he’s come up with.

I could imagine him loving your body a lot. As a martial artist, you most likely built muscle very quickly, resulting in stretch marks, unless you somehow have a devilfruit that makes it so you don’t get them.

But imagining you do, he always licks and nibbles at them, snickering when you wack him over the head for biting at your hips or licking at the sides of your pecs. Shanks never apologizes for laying all his love on you, he just shrugs and says he can’t contain himself with someone as irresistible as you.

Speaking of the bedroom, he loves when you ride him. Shanks probably also some kind of captain kink. Seeing as you guys are lovers and see each other as mostly equals, you don’t really call him captain outside of battle, so when you finally do use that title, he always snaps to attention.

To add to the point above. Roleplay. He could walk into his quarters and see you splayed out on his bed in a dramatic pose, wearing some clothes you bought just for this, like a different gi or maybe even a marine uniform.

Lay it on thick whining about the big scary Yonko shanks having captured you, how strong he is and how you’ll do anything for him to show you mercy. It always gets his haki boiling around him, a glint appearing in his eyes before he pounces on you.

But I can also imagine him wanting to be the one playing a role. Maybe he plays the role of a poor pirate who’s washed up on your island and you’ve been taking care of him, so he has to return the favor and thank you.

Or maybe when you both feel more electricity and adrenaline in the air, you play out the roles of rivals who spar and give it your all to dominate the other. You guys are pretty evenly matched if he doesn’t pull out his conquerors haki, so its up in the air whos gonna win, not that Shanks minds.

On a more fluffy end, he takes you on dates. Since you always show how much you love him through your words and actions, he wants to find ways to show you just how much he loves you in return.

Expect him to whisk you off on a date on every island your crew stops at, even if you guys are in a hurry. It can be anything from a full week away at a fancy hotel, to a trip to a bar or even just a walk around the area so you two can spend time together.

When Shanks is drunk, he gets even more clammy. He will hang off you and be more perverted. You’ve had to pull him into an alleyway or back to the ship more than once cuz he wants to climb you right then and there in public, and he’s not shy about falling to his knees to undo your pants to get his mouth on you.

After all this time, you don’t really feel any shame or embarrassment, but you respect others you get him somewhere more private before you let Shanks go at it as he pleases.

I can see him struggling with words at times, so its through these acts that he expresses his love, though he probably finds it lacking compared to your more open way of showing it. But again, you’ll just have to reassure him that you know he loves you, and that you enjoy everything he does for you to show it.

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 18

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: violence, blood

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

Chapter 18

He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't care. He only wanted to get far away, as far as he could, and to push himself until he could no longer think, could no longer see Daphne's horrified face in his mind's eyes.

In the end, that was what had made him leave. Not her fear of assassins—though he had to admit the thought had crossed his mind, that whoever was hunting him would hurt her, to reach him—not her anger at his lies, nor her disgust at his crimes. It was the look of utter betrayal in her eyes, completely devoid of warmth and affection and love, as though she no longer recognized him. That was when Geta knew no amount of begging or threats could have changed her mind. That was when he knew he had to go.

Fool, fool, fool! He should have told Daphne the truth months ago, when she had first found him. It might have made her afraid of him, but at least she wouldn't have hated him. Would she? Would she still love him then? Or would she simply leave him to die? 

He tried to focus his mind on the matter at hand to distract himself, or else he would break down on this road, and he couldn't have that. If nothing else, he still had his dignity. He may have lost his life, his power, and even his love, but he had to hold on to his dignity. Some precious dignity it was.

Where could he go? To Adala, and trying to find passage from there to Hemesos? He had no money left, though perhaps in Adala he could sell his ring to pay his way. His ring... Geta looked down at his hand with a humorless smile. Some poor sap would be holding the power of the entire Empire in his hand and wouldn't even know it.

And if he was able to reach Hemesos, what then? Find his aunt, if she was still alive, raise an army, and challenge Macrinus for the throne? At the thought of Macrinus and the throne, Geta was momentarily overwhelmed by a feeling of disgust, almost physical in its power. He no longer had any desire, or indeed any stomach, to rule, to seek revenge. Here his thoughts came back to Daphne, like ships flocking to the lighthouse of Alexandria, despite all his effort to keep his mind away from her. How unfair it was that she should discover the truth just as he decided to give it all up for her! But... what if he was to defeat Macrinus, not for the throne, but only to protect Daphne, to reassure her that no assassin would ever come for her? Would she take him back then? And even more importantly, could he come back to her then? If he did all that, would he still be the man she loved? Would he still be worthy of her, or would he revert to the tyrant he once had been, like a drunkard who had vowed to stay sober, only to fall back on excessive drinking once a drop of wine touched his lips again?

He walked until sundown. A brackish smell and the shaggy shapes of willow bushes rising out of the shadow told him he was close to the stream, which now must have been reduced to just a series of mud-filled pools due to the summer heat. The stream was on his left, so he was on the right path to Adala, only it was too dark to continue. The wind died down, and the maddening buzz of mosquitoes around his head got louder. He broke off a tree branch to swat at them, but they still landed on him and bit him until itchy welts broke out all over his arms and legs. The thought of the stream made him realize how thirsty he was, and with thirst came hunger as well. Strange how the body still craves sustenance even when the mind has no appetite for it.

He sat down next to a willow bush and continued to swat at the mosquitoes while listening to his stomach growl. He wondered if he could hunt a rabbit or a bird, until he remembered that he had no means to start a fire to cook it. Besides, he didn't know how to hunt. In Rome and Antioch, his past-time of choice had been racing, not hunting, while the "hunts" he'd often watched in the Colosseum were little more than staged executions, spectacles put on to satisfy the Roman thirst for bloodshed, utterly removed from real life.

For the first time since escaping his assassin, Geta found himself at a loose end, without knowing where or how he was going to spend the night. Before, he had always been taken care of by someone else, the slaves, the soldiers, or Daphne. Always Daphne. It was a bitter dose to swallow, this realization that she could very well live without him, but he couldn't live without her. What a useless, pathetic fool he was! Did he fancy himself a great military leader and a powerful emperor? He couldn't even survive on his own.

But sitting here feeling sorry for himself would not fill his stomach or save him from getting eaten alive by the mosquitoes. It was out of the question to go into the village—that would draw unwanted attention to himself. After some consideration, Geta struggled to his feet and walked further down the bank of the stream. He remembered when he and Daphne made their journey to Adala, they had run into a few shepherds and their dust-colored sheep along the way. Shepherds had to sleep and eat as well, so he hoped he may come across a shepherd's hut, where he could ask for food and shelter without raising too much suspicion.

His hope turned out to be futile, for there was no sign of habitation anywhere around him, no flickering fire, no soft bleats of a herd of sheep settling down for the night. What he did find though, was a wild fig tree, its branches laden with fruits, some so ripe that they had split open, sweet juice clinging to the purple skin like drops of honey under the pale starlight. He gorged himself, thanking Bacchus for the bounty. Although this hermit's meal did not fully satisfy him, the fruits soothed both his hunger and thirst. The wind picked up again, and the mosquitoes finally left him alone, so once the last fig had been consumed, he wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down amongst the willows.

Now that the discomfort of his body had subsided, he became aware of another pain, a strange weight on his chest, different from the breathlessness and the tightness of his lungs in the early days of his injuries. It took him a moment to realize that it was his heart that was wounded and bleeding this time. The sweet, gentle ache he often felt around Daphne had now turned agonizing with their separation, and his heart was crying out for her, crying and yearning in vain, until exhaustion sent him into a sorrowful, restless sleep.

***

He was in his mother's chamber at the palace. Outside, the riot raged on, the crowd chanting the names of the traitorous Acacius and his wife Lucilla, drowning out even the screams of those being cut down by mounted soldiers. Geta's hand shook as he pushed back the curtain to look at the heaving of torches and bodies at the foot of the Palatine Hill. There had been riots before, many since he and Caracalla took the thrones, but none as bad as this. He knew he'd made a mistake, executing the hero of Rome in such a public manner, but what else could he have done? Acacius and Lucilla had committed high treason, and examples must be made of them. Behind him, Julia Domna was trying to soothe his nerves, suggesting different ways to calm the crowd, perhaps getting out of Rome until the people had forgotten their anger. But Geta refused. He wouldn't run away. He couldn't have the people doubt his ability to rule. Their ability to rule. And where was his co-emperor now? Caracalla had gone somewhere, hidden like the coward that he was. 

And suddenly Caracalla was there in the chamber, looking ridiculous in his fancy clothes and jewelry, waving a blade in his hand. What a fraud. Caracalla didn't even know how to hold a sword, let alone use one. The old hatred surged within Geta as he took in the sight of his brother, temporarily eclipsing his fear. No. That hatred wasn't real. Caracalla couldn't help what he'd become, couldn't see beyond the rivalry that their father had unwittingly caused between them by forcing them to share everything. But Geta could. And he must convince Caracalla of that, so they could stay united and be a family, so they could weather this storm...

"You lie," said Caracalla with a snarl, gold tooth glinting. "You always lie!"

Before Geta knew what was happening, Caracalla rushed forward, sword drawn. The blade slashed across Geta's palm, yet he felt nothing. Their mother screamed. Geta shouted for the Praetorians, who ran into the chamber, only to pause and look between the two brothers in confusion. Which Emperor to save? Geta grabbed Caracalla's hand, wrestling for the sword. Their mother was shouting at the Praetorians to break them up. No, this wasn't real. The anger, the blood, none of it was real. Geta pleaded with his brother, reminded him of their childhood, anything to break the spell. But he could see that it was too late. Caracalla had gone mad. Perhaps Geta had gone mad as well. The whole world was mad, so why not them too?

The Fates, Nona, Decima, and Morta, were watching them from the shadow, scissors poised over the twin threads of their lives. Which one would they cut? Not mine. Not mine.

Gathering his strength, Geta wrenched the blade out of Caracalla's hand and pushed him off. Next thing Geta knew, Caracalla was cowering in their mother's arm, blood splattering his purple toga. Who had struck the fatal blow? Had it been one of the Praetorians, or had it been Geta himself? Geta didn't care. He bore down on his brother and raised the sword. Kill, or be killed. Be a soldier, not a weakling.

Snip. Morta's scissors snapped shut over the thread with a sharp sound that sent chills down his spine.

He felt it, the moment the thread was cut, the moment sword met flesh. Only it wasn't his brother's flesh. It was his own. He was lying in a crimson pool, and, standing over him, was Macrinus, his earring glinting in the torchlight.

"You'll never be emperor," said Macrinus, voice dripping with disdain just as the sword in his hand was dripping with blood.

Geta tried to get up, to tell Macrinus that he didn't want to be emperor anyway, but he couldn't open his mouth, couldn't move. A wave of fear washed over him, holding him down, pinning his limbs to the cold marble floor, drowning him.

Then, as he continued to struggle against the invisible bond around his body, a soft voice spoke in his ears, "Romulus? Come back to me."

He looked up and saw Daphne's green eyes. As if by magic, the fear of Macrinus, the anger at his father, the guilt over his brother, the sorrow for his mother, drained out of him, to be replaced by a wonderful peace. Macrinus, his brother and mother, the Praetorians, were all gone. Only Daphne remained, and that was all that mattered. She was all that mattered.

"I want to come back, carissima," he told her. "But you won't let me."

She shook her head, impatient. "You aren't trying hard enough."

"Tell me what to do then," he pleaded, grasping for her hands. "Tell me how to get back to you."

"The gates of Hell are open night and day," Daphne whispered. "Smooth is the descent, and easy is the way." Geta looked up at her in fear, but she was unchanged. Her eyes remained tender and her voice soft, as she leaned closer, lips brushing his. "But to come back and view the cheerful skies," she continued. "In this the task and the mighty labor lies."

Heedless of his mortal wounds, he strained toward her, desperate to catch her kiss, but already she was retreating, fading away, and he only felt cold air on his lips.

He woke with a start. He was still lying by the willow bush, stiff and sore from the hard ground. It must be nearly dawn—or so he guessed, from the light gray of the sky and the cold dew that had settled on his hair and his cloak while he slept. The dream was still vivid in his mind, and as he sat up to rub some life into his limbs, he could almost feel the sword going into his flesh again. A remnant of the fear was still there as well, and that fear also brought shame. Why should he be so afraid of Macrinus? He should be furious, he should be ready to run that traitor through with his sword...

But he couldn't. He no longer had it in him. The thirst for revenge, the anger, the desire for power, they were gone, evaporated in the light of the rising sun like the ghosts of his dreams. Only one thing endured—his love for Daphne.

The poem from his dream came back to him then.

The gates of Hell are open night and day, Smooth is the descent, and easy is the way. But to come back and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.

Virgil, the Aeneid. He had never paid much attention to the poetry lessons in his youth, but those lines he remembered. He'd once heard them from the mouth of a slave, spoken in defiance and veiled threat, but now, when he imagined them in Daphne's sweet voice, they became sobering, rallying words.

Well, he had been to Hell. And now he would come back. He was not going to Hemesos to chase after some wild hope that he might regain the throne. He would come back to Daphne, as she had bidden him in the dream. She was his cheerful skies. No matter how hard the task, no matter how mighty the labor, he would come back to her.

With that new resolve in mind, he got to his feet, feeling much more hopeful than he had when he'd gone to sleep the night before. He could even ignore the gnawing hunger in his belly, and his feet were steady as he made his way back to the village.

***

The sun was high above the hills and spreading its warmth on the path by the time the first cottage came into view. Geta hesitated a little. He'd decided that going straight back to Daphne would be a mistake, when his betrayal was still so raw in her mind. Instead, he could appeal to her mother. The old woman liked him. He could tell her that he and Daphne had had a quarrel, and perhaps she would convince Daphne to give him another chance. Yet now he just realized he didn't know where Daphne's family lived. He could ask around, but how to do it without drawing attention to himself?

An acrid smell of smoke and the sound of metal striking metal brought him to the smithy. A group of men sat around the hut, drinking and drawling around bowls of almonds and olives, while the red-faced smith wielded his hammer over a lump of red-hot metal behind them. Geta recognized a few of them as Daphne's patients.

Trying to hold himself more humbly, not so difficult now after everything he'd been through, he approached the men. "Excuse me," he said. "Can any of you tell me where Attikos, son of Timon, lives?"

They turned to him. One of them, with the leathery skin of a shepherd who spent all his youth under the merciless desert sun and a long, white beard that gave him an air of wisdom, stood up. "I am Kavos, the village chief," the old man said. So this was Master Kavos. "What business do you have with Attikos?"

Geta was prepared. "My name is Romulus," he replied. "We know each other from the army. Attikos told me to look him up if I ever find myself in these parts. My travels brought me here, so I thought I'd pay him a visit."

That seemed good enough for Kavos, who pointed down the path. "Follow this lane to the north end of the village, and you'll find Timon's house on your right. It's one of the last huts on the lane, with an almond tree out front. You can't miss it."

Geta nodded his thanks and was about to go on his way, when the smith, dropping the blade he'd been shaping into the nearby bucket of water amidst a cloud of steam, spoke up. "You won't find anyone at home, lad."

"How so?" Geta asked.

"I ran into Attikos' brother, Mikkos, early this morning," said the smith. "They've all gone out looking for Timon. Seems the old fool hasn't been home for days."

"Timon's never home," one of the men chimed in. "He's probably lying in a ditch somewhere, drunk as a piper."

"Well, that's all the more reason to find him, isn't it?" said Kavos.

"I don't see why they bother," the other man continued. "They would all be better off if he's dead."

This appeared to be too cruel a jab for the other men, who all made gestures to ward off evil. "Musa!" chided Kavos. "That is unkind." He turned back to Geta and cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed at such a display in front of a stranger. "In that case, perhaps it's best if you join us and wait for them here. They're bound to come this way sooner or later."

Geta hesitated. On the one hand, he was impatient to get back to Daphne, and if he sat here with these graybeards, he might let slip something that raised their suspicion. On the other, it would be even more suspicious if he just left. Besides, the wine looked inviting, and he was terribly thirsty.

"With pleasure," he said, sitting down. Kavos poured him a beaker of wine, which he gratefully downed in one gulp. "Thank you," he remembered to add.

"And where are you headed?" Kavos asked, fixing Geta with his sharp gaze.

He was prepared for that as well. "Home, in Syria."

One of the men laughed. "A Syrian lad named Romulus? Your parents have a sense of humor, don't they?"

Geta grinned. "My father was Roman," he said, by way of explanation. It was a lie, but the less he gave away about himself, the better.

The men didn't let him off that easily. "So you served with Attikos in Baras, then?" one of them asked. "Saw any action there?"

Geta wracked his brain, trying to recall if his army had ever been to Baras. It was a city in Sophene, and, as most cities in the area, a point of contention between Rome and its neighbors, Armenia in this case, but he couldn't remember it being of much consequence. He shrugged and was about to answer when his attention was caught by a figure staggering up the lane. As the figure drew near, Geta recognized those heavy features, those shifty eyes, and that red, bulbous nose. Timon. The man was dragging his feet toward the smithy, swaying slightly, a hand gripping his side as if he had a stitch there.

Following Geta's eyes, the elders saw the drunk man as well. "There you are, Timon," Kavos said. "Your family has been looking for you—" The old man paused, and a look of concern came over his face.

Geta realized something was wrong. At close quarters, Timon didn't look drunk. Instead of the flush of alcohol, his face was as white as chalk. Something dark was welling up under the hand clutching at his side and dripping down the front of his tunic, onto the dust of the lane. Blood.

Geta jumped to his feet. "He's injured!" he shouted. At that moment, Timon collapsed to the dirt.

There was a great commotion as the men ran out and crowded around Timon. Someone took away his hand, and they all gasped to see his palm covered in blood. Timon lay on his back with his mouth open and his tongue lolling out, looking as though he was already dead. There were flecks of blood around his lips. Geta had seen such sights so many times on the battlefield, there was no mistaking it. Daphne's father had been dealt a fatal wound.

"Somebody, fetch help!" Kavos said. "Get Daphne!"

Hearing Daphne's name, Timon roused himself. "No!" he croaked, clinging to the front of Kavos's robe. "Don't bring her here—he's after her—"

"He's delirious," someone said.

Kavos knelt by the dying man. "What happened, Timon? Who did this to you?"

"Bastard—pierced ear—" Timon choked out. Then his eyes settled on Geta, who was hanging on the edge of the group, and widened in shock. "You!" Timon hissed. "He's after you too!"

The men whirled around to stare at Geta curiously, but he was no longer afraid of their attention. Timon's words had driven a much bigger fear through him, turning his bowels into ice.

"What do you mean?" he said, yanking Timon up by his tunic. "Who is after me?" Timon grimaced as his wound bled anew, only Geta was past caring. "Tell me!"

"I—gambling—the merchant caravan—" Timon said, gasping as though each word pained him. "He saw—Roman coins—asked where I got them—told him about you—stuck me with his knife—he's on his way there now—to Daphne's—"

Geta didn't stop to hear the rest. The fabric of Timon's robe, already soaked with blood, slipped from his hands, and Timon fell to the ground. Geta turned on his heel, but Kavos seized his arm. "Wait now, lad! What's this about?" he asked.

"I have to warn Daphne," Geta said, shaking off the old man's grip.

Kavos's bushy eyebrows went up. "How do you know her?"

Geta looked around the men, torn between wanting to avoid suspicion and the urge to get to Daphne. "Ask Attikos," eventually he said. "He'll explain everything. If I'm not back in half an hour, send someone to Daphne's."

Leaving others to tend to the dying man, he ran toward the hills in the distance, praying to Mercury to lend swiftness to his tired legs, praying to Minerva and Diana and Juno to protect Daphne, praying to all the gods that he was not too late.

Chapter 19

This, along with the prologue, was the chapter I had to rewrite most extensively to tie it to the movie - namely, I added a brief mention of Acacius and Lucilla, rewrote the confrontation between Caracalla and Geta to be closer to the movie (though I still had their mother present and no Macrinus), and added the lines of the Aeneid recited by Lucius. In my headcanon, after killing Caracalla, Geta just had Lucilla and Lucius quietly executed to avoid further outcry, so I can safely ignore the rest of the movie :P

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad, @charmingballoon (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[enden-k]

remembering about trans!haitham headcanon, do you have any ideas you could share about it? (if that doesn't bother you) maybe about if his grandmother ever knew it, or if kaveh even knew alhaitham before the transition. maybe kaveh knows haitham's deadname? maybe kaveh actually helped haitham in his journey to affirm his gender? thinking about this makes me excited to do a fanfic about this AAAAAAAA-

ofc, i have quite a few (transhaitham just means a lot to me hhhsjdjk)

i like to imagine that his grandma knew and her love, care and support remained unchanged; all she wanted is for him to be content and comfortable, teaching him all that. she def helped him here and there; like seeing how he was bothered by his longer hair so she proposed to cut it short and seeing how his eyes lit up in his usual neutral face when he saw his reflection was prob one of her fav memories of little haitham. not only getting rid of the bothersome weight and heat of annoying hair but also seeing how he looked more boyish pleased him a lot (not that short hair = strictly masculine etc. you know what i mean there)

(dysphoria is not "required" or smth every trans person experience(d), saying this right away (and also as a note to anyone actually unaware of this) - he def didnt experience it, just felt sometimes a bit bothered by some stuff) he just simply knew who he is and wanted to find more comfort with himself by aligning his physical appearance more with his feeling and identity (by transitioning)

(idk if i explain it well in english what i want to say. also def projected there)

so, kaveh and haitham def knew each other in the early stages; when haithams grandma passed away, he attempted to cut his own hair (usually his grandma did) and it turned out cutely shaggy and sloppy (not that it bothered him much, as long as it doesnt look too awful to him) kaveh couldnt take it tho and in a quiet homoerotic charged moment took it on himself to do it right and save it. haitham already went by his name there but if someone knows of his deadname other than his grandma back then, its def only kaveh as his closest friend

years after their falling out, when they meet again in the tavern it nearly had kavehs eyes bulging out when he recognized the person seating down next to him as haitham - so much broader and bulkier than he used to be (back then he was already working out a little just to stay fit and healthy and gain more muscle, but still much slimmer in early stages of t. but now? def could snap kaveh in half and he wouldnt mind at all), his voice deep but still that same aggravatingly confident tone---

(i just love the image of kaveh always being so attracted to haitham and haitham alone, always loving him in every way, for being himself just like haitham loving him in every way, always and without a break despite their falling out)

this is turning more into me being sappy about them than transhaitham thoughts LMFAO SORRY anyway i think kaveh helped haitham a lot with things like cutting his hair properly short or picking clothes (mostly bc he liked dressing haitham since he deems his tastes as awful) or showing him how to shave when he first grew facial hair, all that kinda stuff

[astrow0rldx]

Jeffrey Dahmer Birth Chart Reading

analysis

brah astrology is so real i can't even fathom. what's going on up there?

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Experienced Astrologer for 7-8 years now. I'm new to networking, tumblr and having an astrology content account & paid readings so just follow my private Instagram account universalstarbaby00 for any inquiry ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

lets talk about his chart ruler. he's a libra ascendant, so his perception & outlook on life is finding love. he is very attractive, charming, charismatic, and alluring. So with libra ruling his chart, his chart ruler is his Venus. His Venus placement is Taurus in the 8th house. Now the sign is how it's expressed. the behavior & the house is the theme of life & area it resides in. So taurus literally represents food & 8th house represents death. Venus literally represents his turn ons, how he is towards love. Taurus is your physical pleasures, your sensual pleasures, being at home in venus, he strongly connected with that. while libra is aesthetic artistic venus because it is an air sign. taurus is more luxurious, physical venus because it is an earth sign. taurus, actually rules the body, the neck, food, so yea he was into that. BUTTTT in the 8th house. of death, possession, power, sex. 8th house is all about possessions of others & it deals with the darker sides & under world. this is where your trauma is, rebirth/regeneration, injuries/accidents/diseases, destruction & death, to gain power. where you possess others & have desire, hidden & secrets, have control & receive support like money & finances, seduction, temptation, possessiveness, jealousy, obligations, taxes. That's LITERALLY where his love lived. Not only his love & venus but his sun at 0 degrees SHARP! his ego, his sense of self, his will, his identity. & his mercury (his mindset, way you process & think, ideas, communicate) lives there too. SCARYYYYY.

But that mars sign tho. Where your mars is places we get to see what drove him, what motivated him, his primal desires. In the expression & behavior of aries, he was definitely PASSIONATE, aggresive, sitting at home in mars. but firing it up. These Primal Desires living in the 6th house of themes & areas of life like daily routine, "what I have to do", health, pets, slaves, clients, servants, contribution to society. He was determined to do what he had to do with a lot of passion, he was a hard worker & got through obstacles. Really felt adrenaline in completing projects, and with other dark placements like his, when your turned on by eating dead people, you get that passion to want to do that a lot. Like he said once he started he couldn't stop, maybe the victims and the goal he accomplished was fulfilling his desires. Now mars is your primal desires & what motivates you but like we know that's shown in your sexual desires to. So people with this placement are really freaky because they might want to have sex everyday. Now they may like to serve their partners, or get horny in places like work or when people are serving them. I'm literally black so I hope I don't get criticism for saying this, but while 6th house rules slaves & mars lived there, he probably was sexually passionate to the fact that black people could be his slaves & they reminded him of someone that could serve him & do what they "have" to do. Black people aren't slaves ofc, and people aren't associated with slavery. He was probably raised in a family, it was the 60's. His subconscious & information consumption did that to his brain.

Speaking on that! Lets to get to this prominent, Neptune Ascending, Living in the first house. Neptune rules the other dimensions, spirituality, astral projection, sleeping, dreams, fantasies, daydreams, ideas, Movies, Tv shows, Inspiration. That up in the clouds energy. So people with Neptune in its first house trip people out, they confuse people. they project fantasies onto others. deceitful & very confused between reality and their heads. harley have any boundaries. So people like that might be egotistal & always play victim/be passive aggressive. so then i want to look at his ego myself (which is his sun sign) & how he thinks, which we said before is both in the 8th house of hidden, secrets, dark stuff, death & sex.

lastly before I punch in some asteroids in his chart, lets talk about YOU GUYS!! HIS VIEWERS. In his 10th house is his reputation, his aura & public image. when you look at historians & celebrities you see how they fit in this world, and its shown in their 10th house. his Uranus is their. the planet of the freaks & aliens. the one who is theoritical & coming up with something new, different, kinky, inventive, odd. like wtffff or woahhhhh. AND NEXT his 11th house, of social media, networking, groups, ideals, community (which also rules uranus) so that revolutionary, inventive, wishes & goals energy. It's the house of the humanitarian so we can change humanity. Aquarius is an air sign (ruled by the 11th house) very good with people. So 11th house can even be how you make friends, who's your friends. How you network & get around. "I know a guy". Anyways that's the house so area of life. theme of life where his pluto & north node lives. your pluto is your trauma, death & rebirth. your transformation, power & sex. so networking & how he got around humanitarianly was, those areas of life with his friends & social media (netflix), network (whoever broadcasted about him) was his rebirth, his transformation, his DEATH. one of the people in his group/community (jail) killed him. Jeffery Dahmer is dead. 8th house represents death to ruling pluto. his sun mercury & venus is there so his ego mind & love literally killed him. Another planet in the 11th house, of networking, social media like netflix, (this for all the people that know him off the show). North Node, what your supposed to become in this lifetime, your purpose is placed there. He was meant to be networked.

Okay you know I had to put Nessus (7066) in. Nessus is an abuser. The area of life it fell in, themes of life is.... drumroll please...... THE 8TH HOUSE, of death, sex, power, etc. But theres us, we live in the 10th house of his public image, reputation, social status, that's our version of him. (111) Ate & (128) Nemesis lives there. Ate is about infatuation, mischief, blindfold-ness. Nemesis is about your arch enemies. Eros (433) & Lust (4386) conjuncts his mars, blending in & amplifying. VERYYY sexual man. In the sign of Aries of assertiveness, aggression, drive & motivation. towards the 6th house of health, what i have to do, daily routines, job, work, clients, slaves, & pets. Last two asteroids lives in the 5th house. what he did that made him shine, his creativity & drama, his pleasures & orgasm. The first Asteroid is Anubis (1912). Anubis is an Ancient Egyptian God, which ancient Egypt (before known as Kemet) originated civilization. He was the original god of the dead. hmmm. So he fell in his house of how Jeffery likes to play & pleasure himself. Last asteroid, that also fell in that house was Zeus (5731) God of War & Sexual Power. OKAY IM DONE. because whatttttt!

[sillygoofyqueer]

Please, oh mighty one, bless us with more jiuyuan crow Yuan content. I'm kicking my feet giggling everytime I read any of your additions. That guy so needs an emotional support animal, no matter what form it comes in.

Do you think crow yuan wld be attracted to the shinies in the bamboo hut? All the uselessly gaudy gifts the sect leader keeps throwing at him are finally coming in handy. But SJ is also super possessive of his items, so I wonder how that interaction will pan out? Would crows be the type to appreciate fine art and pretty colours in paintings, or are they just attracted to things that glow and reflect the light?

Also I'm just imagining crowyuan completely missing the bullying scene, then flying around until something shiny within the bamboo stalks catches his eyes, and he just finds a dangling guanyin there like ???

Does he take it with him? Does he realize it's the protagonist's jade pendant? Or does he just go, huh, how'd this get up here, and off in a nest it goes lol. Man, one of your previous posts talked about crowyuan just scattering his nests all over the peaks, and no one can touch them unless they want the wrath of god (SJ and thusly his enabler) upon them. And I just find it hilarious how inconvenient it could possibly be? Like imagine him setting up nests in the most inconvenient places on An Ding out of spite, and people just have to circle around it and try not to dislodge anything. Like, not all of them are on purpose across the peaks but man can it turn out to be a bit of a pain. And then ofc it can just be endearing the other times, with peak disciples recording the location of new nests and tallying to see which peak has the 2nd most nests (1st ofc always goes to Qing Jing)

I'm squealing over this reaction, I will bestow upon you what you seek. Shen Yuan is literally pulled into the Bamboo Hut after the sun hits the shinies through the window and he notices the glint from where he's politely making a nest nearby (so Shen Jiu won't be lonely!! God!). There is a slight pause of 'oooh, shiny! NO, THAT IS SHEN JIU'S- holy shit was that a ruby-' and then he darts into the hut (conveniently left open because SJ had to rush to deal with a rude visitor) to go poke and prod at the shinies. SJ returns to his hut after booting Liu Qingge (who wants to show SY a cool monster he killed) off his peak, to find the source of his headache holding a random gold trinket close to his mouth (he can test the realness that way, he swears), frozen in place as he stares at SJ. Of course, SY is embarrassed and SJ is confused (and yet pleased - SY entered his house of his own accord). SY awkwardly hands over the shinies he has scooped up into his arms, apologising profusely about the instincts he has while SJ (although he doesn't care about them, they're still his) acts righteously offended by his the little thief and forces him to stay for the night as punishment - no nest equals punishment for the thief teehee. However, Yue Qingyuan sees how much SY likes shiny things and starts offering him little gifts because he wants him to feel comfortable on Cang Qiong Mountain- SJ is of the full mindset that YQY is trying to steal his bird and immediately gets pissed off. As if that loser's bribery gifts are any better than SHEN JIU'S!! He will not stand for such a thing, and starts shoving his gifts into SY's hands almost forcefully. SY has learned to appreciate the finery of things, which is his human side still sliding into his life, but the other crow demons are still working on that aspect. SY does most definitely just sees the fake jade pendant, bites it, and just goes "mmm, fake things <3" and drops it into his nest. Luo Binghe sees it one day and has to physically hold himself back from just snatching it right away, instead finding SY and breaking down into tears as he tries to justify why he should have it back. SY has already handed it back to him, but he feels the need to explain. SJ is super jealous to find SY coddling LBH in his nest like the baby birds he deals with all the time. SY WILL PUT HIS NESTS ANYWHERE, AND HIS NESTS WILL STAY THERE BECAUSE NOBODY CAN DENY THAT DEMON. He makes them everywhere: on paths because then he can still be social while chilling, in An Ding peak storerooms just because..., on the roofs of Wan Jian Peak forges because they're toasty, Bai Zhan Peak fighting grounds because cool entertainment, and Qing Jing Peak because SJ <3

[dollychic]

—First Impressions <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝑺𝒕��𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: (Aged!up) Gon Freecss, (Aged!up) Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paradinight, Hisoka Morrow, Chrollo Lucilfer, Illumi Zoldyck

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: none

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . ✧ ˚ 　· 　 . 　

—𝑮.𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒄𝒔𝒔 ❥

༯ He’s a smiling mess because he thinks you’re very pretty.

༯ He loves to compliment you and likes how easy going you can be. It takes any awkward atmosphere away by speaking up on each other’s adventures and background.

༯ Gon brings up his friends a lot and how you should get to know them. Same goes for aunt mito. kinda makes you think he’s a momma’s boy. (Nothing wrong with that ofc)

༯ Lastly, Gon makes you feel special. He always does little things that you wouldn’t expect and appreciate them. In return you would always give him a peck on the cheek, causing his skin to reddened.

—𝑲.𝒁𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒚𝒄𝒌 ❥

༯ Killua does not like you at all. He finds you annoying and gets jealous that Gon is with you all the time.

༯ Though, he can’t deny that he finds you really attractive, and I mean really. From the body to the face, your physical ability and strength really stand out to him.

༯ The more you try to talk to him and make out a conversation, he just keeps insulting you making you irritated and annoyed for even trying.

༯ As weeks go by, Killua slowly warms up to you. Key word: Slowly

༯ Every time you come up to boy and act all nice and friendly with him, he just gets flustered by looking at you the slightest causing a tingly feeling in his stomach that he didn’t like.

—𝑲.𝑲𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒂 ❥

༯ Kurapika thinks you are very sweet and kind. To say that you’re gorgeous was an understatement. You were beyond what words could describe.

༯ You guys got along pretty well. Sharing the same experiences when growing up made your bond strong.

༯ You always made fun of how formal he spoke causing his cheeks to darken and look away embarrassed.

༯ Overall, he genuinely thought that involving you in his life was the best decision he could’ve made.

—𝑳.𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ❥

༯ The perverted man he is, he just stares at your tits. No thoughts on how you introduced yourself, act or anything.. just. boobs.

༯ A hand was sent flying to his left cheek bringing him back to reality, getting him pissed.

༯ “HEY YOU LITTLE BRAT!!” Was all he could say as his thoughts finally thought of you as Rude and insolent.

༯ Since then, you guys would always argue like siblings.

—��.𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 ❥

༯ Hisoka has a lot of interest towards you. Mainly because of your physical ability and appearance.

༯ At first you thought he would be a homosexual due to the tone in his voice but to your surprise, he wasn’t.

༯ When you’re in the way he would always take the chance to place his hands on your body. he would say things like ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’ so he wouldn’t seem like a creep.

༯ He would appear when you least expect it, not knowing how he does it.

༯ “How do you always do that?” You spoke in curiosity only for him to avoid your question.“A magician never tells his secrets”

—𝑪.𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒍𝒇𝒆𝒓 ❥

༯ His first time acknowledging you was when you were in the middle of a fight with one of his group members.

༯ To say you did kill one of his colleagues, he still wanted you to join the phantom troupe.

༯ At first you didn’t agree with the idea but something in your mind urged you to say ‘yes’. After all, you found the leader himself to be extremely attractive so you settled in for your own fun and pleasure.

༯ “Y/n Is it?” His deep voice echoed through the building. You nodded slightly only to be heard with the number you’ll identify as. “Welcome to the phantom troupe #4”

—𝑰.𝒁𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒚𝒄𝒌 ❥

༯ Illumi heard from you through Hisoka and it peaked his interest.

༯ The way Hisoka would bring up your power and potential eventually made him make up his mind in meeting you. He usually never has time to do such things but he wouldn’t wanna miss this opportunity.

༯ His first thoughts on you were that you’d be perfect to be in an arranged marriage with one of his brothers or maybe even himself.

༯ Your thoughts on him were that he freaked you out. Even if he tried his best not to, his poker/emotionless face and black eyes made you feel uneasy. For safety, you would hide behind Hisoka as if he would keep you untouched from the cum face man in front of him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒛𝒆! 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑹𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅! ᥫ᭡

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello love 🖤

Can I request an a-z fluffy hc for our big man Tangerine?

hii luv!! ARFG OFC OFC!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌 ps. that pic🫠

SFW ALPHABET

tangerine x implied female reader, 1.4k words

found lots of different templates, so I combined parts as wasn't sure

A = attractive (what do they find attractive about their partner?)

physically: feel like he's the kinda guy to like eyes. he's big on eye contact, so loves to look into your pretty eyes

mentally: I think he ironically likes morally good people. ones that are honest, selfless, kind. someone who has a good heart

B = baby (do they want a family? why/why not?)

I think yes, eventually, but because of work, there never seems to be the right time. if it happens, it happens. if it doesn't, it doesn't. but I don't think he's one to plan for one

C = cuddle (how do they like to cuddle?)

im thinking the ones when he leaves for work are his favourite. where you'd be standing by the door, arms wrapped around his middle, face in the crook of his neck, holding him tight. similarly, ones when he returns home and you're just so happy to see him

D = dreams (how do they picture their future with their S/O?)

I think the whole lot - married, kids, move somewhere when kids move out or when retire, then grow old and pruney together 

E = emotions (are they open with their emotions?)

absolutely not, but he tries. he tells you he loves you and how special you are etc, but doesn't often share things bothering him or on his mind - he tends to keep that part separate

F = feelings (when did they know they’re in love?)

I think probably very early on. maybe when he realised you could keep up with him and play along with his humour. or that you could see through him right away and not be afraid of him

G = gratitude (how grateful are they in general? are they aware of what their S/O does for them?)

yes, beyond grateful!! appreciates everything you do at home to keep things running smoothly when he's away. loves your cooking, appreciates how you love and care for him. he tells you often with words, also with gifts

H = honesty (do they have secrets they hide from their S/O?)

frankly, I think he keeps lots hidden/ doesn't share the whole truth about things. definitely minimises them too - "only a scrape," and he got shot in the arm. he does it so he doesn't scare you or fill you with dread. but he definitely tries to be more open

I = injury (how would they react if you got hurt?)

if someone hurt you? immediate death. not even a logical thought in his brain (won't actually (well...) kill them, but would have a strong desire to) if you hurt yourself he's tell you to be more careful and would help patch yourself up

J = jealousy (do they get jealous? how do they deal with it)

HA HA yes. absolutely. he's gotten better at handling it tho!! bc he now knows that he takes you home at night, not some minger at a bar. he def tries to intimidate the person talking to/ hitting on you and stares them down til they take the hint and back off

K = kiss (how do they kiss you? how do they like to be kissed?)

im thinking slow and sloppy. again ones when you say goodbye (or when he returns home) ones that are filled with love

L = love (who says ‘I love you’ first?)

I think maybe you. he's loved you long before you admitted it, but he's not into getting rejected so he makes sure you feel the same way first (even though it's obvious you do)

M = memory (what’s their favorite memory together?)

when you first started dating and you surprised him at the airport to pick him up. just seeing your cute pretty face light up with love when you spot him

N = nickel (do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?)

you kidding??? baby, you're getting EVERYTHING you could ever want

O = on cloud nine (what are they like when they’re in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their feelings?)

completely smitten!! although he tries to keep your love life private, that face he makes when he's looking at you definitely gives it away. gets heart eyes, bc I say so

P = pet names (what pet names do they use?)

the best kinds. darling, love, honey, sweetheart, but not every syllable/ letter is pronounced bc his cockney accent - so like darling, with no g. it's an english thing so he says them all the time to everyone, but he has special ones that he only says to you or ways that he says them to just you - so they’re special

Q = questions (what are the questions they’re always asking?)

"im at the shop, do you want anything?" "where do you wanna go for dinner?" but he's not really one to ask philosophical questions

R = rainy day (what do they like to do on a rainy day?)

this is sfw so can't say what I usually would. but probs just movies on the sofa. maybe shared naps on the couch, or doing your own things in the same space - you reading, him filling out stuff on his laptop

S = support (are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?)

very very supportive. for you only, he's a great hypeman. encourages and pushes you along when you get stuck

T = talking (what do they like to talk about?)

I honestly don't think he enjoys talking that much. he's quite quiet and it can be comforting BUT.. again, he's english so complains about the shitty government all the time. idc if this is self-indulgent, but he hates the tories so he gets passionate about politics (absolutely no way that man is right wing)

U = understanding (how well do they know their partner? are they empathetic?)

he's the kind of person who listens when you don't think they are - he keeps catalogues of information about you in his brain, like your favourite childhood movie, your least favourite smell, all these simple facts about you - he remembers. he knows you better than you know yourself, so I do think he has a deep understanding of his partner. he's not necessarily empathetic all the time, but he has his moments where he is the sweetest

V = value (how important is the relationship to them? what is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

nothing else can or will ever compete or compare. you'd be the singularly most important thing to him, end of. he cares about his work and money ig, but when it comes down to the very core of it, none of that really matters

W = wedding (when, where, and how do they propose?)

I think both the proposal and wedding would be somewhere remote, quiet and intimate - somewhere that has meaning to you both. thinking late summer/ early autumn (he doesn't like the heat, so when it cools down)  

X = XOXO (how affectionate are they? in public/in private)

he's not one for pda but at the same time, he likes people knowing you're his - so a hand on your knee/ thigh, a hand around your waist, sitting close to you. not a fan of making out in public, but doesn't refrain from a quick kiss here and there if he really can't help himself

but in private..?? he's all over you. kisses, lingering touches on your back when he walks past, hugs you from behind when you're doing bits around the house

Y = yearning (how well do they cope when they’re separated from their S/O?)

not good. he gets all mopey when he doesn't see you for a while, but can't let that get in the way of work, so when he's back at the hotel or car or somewhere safe he sends you a text, asking how you are, what you're up to. he just hates being apart from you

Z = zeal (are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship?)

dude, he will literally kill and die for you

would rather choke than admit he is wrong - but at the root of it, he is willing to confess to mistakes if things were to ever get too far

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[kindhearted-mouse]

oh mousseeeeee <3333

may I pretty please get a ship for either dottie (16) or yurena (17)???? :3333

OFC MY BELOVED <3 /pl

Starting off with Dottie <3 But perhaps Dolly, Dande, or even Kazim?

Dolly is a Dalmatian Beastman, but I feel like he'd take on more of a tramp role to match with Dollie's Lady inspirations. Ofc, again like with Ali, Dolly would need to be in a muzzle a majority of they times they're together. But he'd be her guide dog in a sense, leading her to places and taking her to fun locations. And of course be VERY affectionate.

Dande could also be nice. Not many people like him in NRC, because they transferred from RSA. But it's okay! Dande is patient, and takes things as they come. He'd be there despite all hardships the two may have. His Prince Charming overriding the hyena in him, despite the laughs from the other students.

KAZIM!! Kazim in a Lion beastman, and would be Dottie's scary dog privilege. Suuure he's pissy and VERY prone to violence (how is he from RSA again?). SURE, if Dottie gets on his nerves, he'd squish her. But honestly? I can see them having a Kyo x Tohru like relationship.

NOW ONTO OUR BABYGIRL YURENA!!

For Yurena, I'd probably ship her with Mouse, Aiday, and Violet (poly)

Starting with Violet! I can absolutely see it being a poly ship between Violet, Yurena, and Jamil. Because Violet also has a crush on Jamil, but I feel like if Yurena and Violet got to know each other - Violet would also crush on Yurena. Violet finds "strong" people VERY attractive, but not in a physical sense. She's attracted to people who are intelligent, passionate, and resilient - which she views both Yurena and Jamil as. Yurena's from another world, but she's adapted and is living in Twisted Wonderland WONDERFULLY and by GOD is that not tempting. Violet would probably let Yurena be the first to find out she's also a girl, and tell her why as well. "In my family, women don't go to schools. They stay home and raise the young and cook the meals. But I wanted to be the first, and I wanted to go someplace influential, so when my brother got that letter... I just took his place..." Surely - SURELY - Yurena and Jamil would be able to understand wanting more than life's willing to give them...

Mouse... Mouse and Yurena, co-parenting their not-quite-son Grim. Mouse also wouldn't mind Yurena being clingy, since Mouse themselves is a clingy person. I can see these two being very domestic together though, considering they're both Yuus.

And last but not least <3

Aiday!! He's my Tarrot Deck inspired OC. IDK if he'd fit Yurena ROMANTICALLY but... I can see it being a soft but harsh relationship. Bitter sweet, like a slow drip IV. Aiday not only can tell Yurena her fate, but he could also edit it with his UM. He could tell Yurena a harsh truth, or create the harsh truth. He's feared on campus for a reason, and honestly? I'm not sure if Yurena would chance it enough to get close to him, even if Malleus and Lilia claim it to be safe. There's also the fact that he's a fae, so if they did get close, he'd probably live much longer than her. And unfortunately, if he had to choose between Yurena and his younger sibling - he'd choose his younger sibling.

[aaabsinthe]

Hi!! Can I request crushing and relationship headcanons for Junkerqueen with a fem s/o? Like how would she realize she likes them? thank you! :)

Junker Queen x Female Reader Relationship Headcanons

A/N: It's been a while y'all - boy am I glad to be back. Literally right after I posted my note about all of the stuff I'm working on, I got slammed with the biggest assessment I've had in my course so far (17 documents total once I'd finally finished it) and caught scarlet fever of all thing so it's taken a good while for me to finally feel well enough and have spare time to write - but here we are!

I'm so excited to write for my favourite built queen - this gif alone is makin me feel things. I'm going to format all of these the same way from now on with SFW and NSFW headcanons from now on. Ofc there will be warning for the NSFW section :)

I hope you enjoy anon despite the wait!

-Nat

SFW Headcanons

Odessa is the kind of gal that isn't really impressed by appearances.

Sure, she has her preferences and finds certain things attractive, but that isn't what piques her interest.

For Dez, it's all about personality, especially if you're the kind of person who is merciful and gentle with others.

This doesn't mean you have to be a doormat, in fact if you stand up for yourself (physically or verbally) when you feel as if you are being treated unfairly or others are being treated unfairly, that's possibly the hottest thing you could ever do in her eyes.

It's just something about the Peter Pan types that really captivates her. Not just in stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, but in being self aware of your strengths and using them to do right by those who are not in the same position of privilege.

This is how she figures out that her little crush on you was not just a little crush anymore.

She overheard you and another agent talking about life before the crisis, and found out that you used to do volunteer work every weekend delivering essentials to the homeless in your city and how much you missed your community outreach.

That and she watched you sock a guy in the face after he attempted to grope your friend at a bar.

It's healing for her and her inner child and she finds herself looking up to you as a role model - she's aware she's no angel and has done many questionable things to survive out there in the wasteland.

However she hopes that now as a part of Overwatch, she can be better and similarly to you, that she can use her position to help others less fortunate.

Dez is fine with casual or short term relationships and has had plenty in her time, she doesn't necessarily need to know someone to be attracted to them - but when she built that emotional connection with you, that's when she knew she was in for the long run.

The best part about dating Dez is that she isn't embarrassed easily - she's very open from the beginning which means conversation flows naturally with her. The downside of this is that for the first few months of being together, getting to sleep was nearly impossible, three am deep conversations just hit different.

This also means if you ever need anything, she is more than happy to accommodate.

Sick? She keeps note of the medication you need and when you need to take it so she can make sure you take it (and bring you water in your comfort water bottle to boot). That time of the month? If somehow the stash of your preferred products are out, she knows what you use - she will get you more without you even needing to ask (she will however check if you crave anything in particular on the way out).

Expect to be doing the same for her when she gets sick - she becomes the biggest needy baby when she's not feeling well.

She's stuck in bed? Yep. So are you.

Not even by choice either, she cages you with her arms and well that's that. There's no fighting this goliath of a woman.

Loves her cuddles - all positions.

Her favourite is being the little spoon though. It's not often that she gets to feel protected and cocooned (can you really blame her).

Loves PDA - particularly keeping an arm around your waist or you attached to her arm at all times, though she's known to do a casual steamy kiss in public when she's feeling particularly jealous.

If you're not one for PDA, she respects that boundary... However she will pout at you with those big red puppy dog eyes.

Absolutely hopeless at cooking and baking though not for lack of trying. Wakes you up regularly cursing about burning her toast.

Of course it's not all sunshine and rainbows.

Speaking of waking you up, Dez has nightmares somewhat regularly.

She's always so thankful to have you there to vent to if she needs it and cuddle with until she's calm enough to fall back asleep.

NSFW CONTENT WARNING

NSFW Headcanons (18+)

Sex to Odessa is powerplay, a safe space to be strong and vulnerable all in one.

Hard dom top - that control means everything to her.

This woman loves a good scrap (duh), if you choose to be a bratty sub, she eats that shit up.

Go ahead, try and buck her off of you, she's not even using half her strength. She can hold you down much harder.

Expect to be begging for mercy.

The two of you develop a safe word very early on in your relationship, Odessa would never forgive herself if she pushed you past your limit.

Definitely has and regularly uses an appropriately sized strap (ouch).

Dez has her kinks. Sex between the two of you is rarely vanilla unless other feelings are involved. She's entuned to what you need and your emotions, she knows when you need the gentler and less complicated sex or when you honestly just need someone to hold you.

That being said, she has a reasonably high sex drive. She can manage on her own if you can't or don't feel like it, but say the words and honestly she's ready when you are.

Though she really would prefer you called her Dez, Odessa, babe - really anything other than her title outside of the bedroom, call her your queen between the sheets - she'll go berserk.

Dabbles in pain play, something of an every now and then addition to the bedroom, it's not something she needs and the both of you really have to be in the mood for the more intensive side of sex. She does however love to see you take Gracie's hilt in every hole.

Unless you'd consider overstimulation a form of pain play. There is nothing she loves more than watching you struggle and beg with tears leaking from your eyes, completely at her mercy.

Light bondage when she doesn't feel like physically restraining you herself.

Claims your face as her throne whenever the mood strikes.

Speaking of claiming, your neck, collarbone and tits are never safe from her demanding mouth.

There aren't really many kinks that Dez would feel uncomfortable with, she would try pretty much anything before she knocks it.

Definite no though - I feel like she'd laugh at ironically calling her 'mommy'/'mummy', especially if you have a different accent, but considering her complicated family past, it just hits a little too close to home to take it seriously especially during sex.

Obviously amazing at foreplay, she knows what she likes which makes it so much easier from the start (not to mention her cheekily buying vibrating piercings just to mess with you) but honestly the best part is that she's enjoying herself just as much as you.

It's all give and take with Dez, you give as much as you get.

[byunpum]

I can't find if your requests are closed, but if you're open, and not totally loaded with requests, may I request a human reader that is curvateous? Like, thicker thighs or a light belly, maybe larger breasts, since I noticed male and female na'vi tend to have a general shape that is rather thin and lanky (and their skin looks oddly tough and leathery?) With literally anyone, be it general HCs or a oneshot (if it is the latter, could you please do Neteyam? Ofc if it's general it can be anyone!)

Pair: Neteyam x human reader (like a mix of navi x human)

Tags: fluff, teasing, crushes, playful biting

Warning: None, the characters have 20’s

+More about my navi-human reader "HERE"

The waves crashed on your legs as you collected some shells and snails from the sand. Your hands were wet, and full of sand. But you were so happy, or so neteyam could see. He was sitting in front of you, holding a basket. A basket he had prepared for you, a nice gift that he thought would be perfect for you. You liked collecting snail shells, it was the only thing that kept you distracted. And having neteyam accompany you always put you in a good mood, it was always in the evening just as the sun was setting. As the waves crashed against the two of you.

"Look at this one!!!" you speak showing him some shells, it was brown with black dots. Neteyam shakes his head to the side, and examines what you are holding in your hands. "mmm I think you already have that one" says neteyam, reaching into the basket and pulls out a piece just like it. You laugh and drop the piece in the sand and keep looking. You keep talking while you keep looking for shells in the sand that was covered with water. Meanwhile neteyam's eyes search for a new point of attention. You had bent over the sand, you were on all fours as your face approached the wet sand, you wanted to take a closer look at what was peeking out of the wet sand. It was a harmless apt you were not doing it to tease neteyam. But neteyam's gaze rested on the exposed skin of your thighs.

His eyes followed the drops of water running down your chubby thighs, he knew it was so soft. He had touched them several times, unintentionally, as you climbed onto his ikran. How they made your body look more attractive and curvaceous while you were in this position. You were wearing a Metkayina outfit that was similar to the bottom part of a bathing suit. And your breasts were covered with a white tube top. You had made something out of some fabrics you had found lying around. His eyes wander back to the basket, as you sit back down in your previous position. Neteyam's eyes widen when he sees that all the fabric on your breasts was wet, exposing everything. His tail starts to wag quickly, he was trying not to look.

This had never been something he noticed, among the navi nudity is not something that is sexualized. But it's also not necessarily something the navi don't notice. It's normal for navi to physically interrupt each other when they like someone, and you were neteyam's crush. And this curiosity and backwardness that he had about you in the last few months was because of ao'nung. The fish boy had started talking about the differences about you, but it wasn't in a bad way. Your body was unlike any other Navi woman's, you had big, soft thighs. Big breasts, and not to mention your strange beauty, had begun to attract the attention of many Metkayina men.

"Have you seen how your thighs are so plump when she sits down….uhhhhhhh I love it" says ao'nung putting his hand on his chest dramatically. "hey careful how you are talking about Y/N. I don't want you to talk about her like that" says neteyam pushing ao'nung a little. "I'm sorry…but you have to admit. That her body is very eye-catching" neteyam tries to keep calm. "Yes…she is very beautiful" neteyam says. He hated that ao'nung talks like that about you, getting up from his place walking towards his marui. From that moment on his head began to spin. And now he was looking at you nervously, lowering his gaze. As he started playing with some shells from the basket. You begin to notice his strange behavior, usually neteyam was giving you his full attention, looking at you and talking all the time. But now he was very quiet. "Is something wrong, nete?" you ask him, moving a little closer to him. His ears twitch, and his pupils dilate as you move closer to his face. You notice this action, and quickly move away. "No…me, I'm fine" says neteyam, he was nervous. "Seriously…you don't look fine" you speak up.

Neteyam laughs nervously. "Not just…" neteyam gives a small glance at your chest and then looks at you. You notice this action and lower your gaze. Seeing that your top was wet, you adjust your clothing more. But it seemed strange to you, he had never cared. Well… no one cared. "Are you looking at my breasts?" you ask him. You swear you could see neteyam's cheeks turn a little purple, the boy tried to get comfortable in the sand. "No, N- it's just…nothing," he stammers. You cross your arms, and laugh a little. "If you were looking at them…it's okay. I don't mind if it's you" you laugh a little, you knew your whole existence was a little curious to neteyam. So you ignore him and start looking at the sand again.

Neteyam tries to calm down, he was lucky that you hadn't bothered him. Not much time passed, but you could feel him still looking at you. You could feel his eyes traveling all over your body. You quickly settled back and looked at him intently. "Ok…what do you want" neteyam looks away embarrassed again. "Hey…don't ignore me. I can feel your eyes penetrating me" you tease, and move closer to his face. Gesturing at his eyes. He gets more nervous and hugs the basket to his stomach. "It's just that I…mmm sorry, I know it's inappropriate" he tries to apologize. "Don't worry…you're not the first one to be that curious" that comment makes neteyam become alert, how could someone else have the nerve to look at you like that? "Who's looking at you like that? ao'nung!!!" neteyam gets a little upset.

You laugh. "Why are you laughing?" neteyam is confused, he wants me to answer him. He is talking seriously. "So yes, you are looking at me and ao'nung has something to do with it. Come on tell me?" you speak, you had caught him. He felt embarrassed about how he was acting. "Mmm he's been talking about…about…your body" neteyam speaks, you move closer to him. "He says…it's nice" neteyam says. The boy's hands play with the edge of the basket. "And you think so, too?" you ask with pity in your tone. Neteyam had always been quite shy with you. "I…mmm no" you look at him sadly, as he tries to adjust his words. You start to get up from the sand, you didn't want to hear his answer, maybe you had gone ahead with Neteyam. You shouldn't have asked that. Suddenly you can feel neteyam holding your wrist, turning you quickly as he feels a coolness on your left thigh.

You had just come out of the water, but this cold was something different. When you turn and look down you see how neteyam, bent over, is gently biting your thigh. You were shocked and couldn't say anything. The navi boy looks up, while gently biting your soft skin. He stays like that for a while, as he starts to open his mouth and move away from you. "Yes…yes I like it, and you are very soft" says neteyam bluntly. "You just bit me" you are surprised, you hadn't even moved. "I'm sorry" he laughs nervously. He is surprised when you move closer to his face, placing your hands on his shoulders, moving up his neck until you reach his ear. Biting down quickly. "Auhhhh" neteyam moans. You pull away and laugh. "I didn't bite that hard" he says. Feeling your hands settle on the side of his face, rubbing your thumbs on his face. "First you have to tell me and then you can bite me" you speak up, laughing a little. "You're not mad at me?" she asks.

You walk away and sit back down on the sand. And you start picking up snails, as if nothing happened. This makes neteyam nervous, just as he was about to protest you speak up. "I heard what you said to ao'nung. nete…" you look at him carefully. "If you have any questions you can ask me directly," you say. Neteyam relaxes a little, watching you go on with your work. You feel Neteyam move closer to you, moving his head to the side of your shoulder. Biting down a little. "You're soft here too," the boy says, laughing stupidly. "You're going to keep biting me,you can touch me with your hands" you laugh. "Can I touch you?" neteyam's eyes light up, while now it was your turn to blush.

P.s: Sorry if it took me too long to answer this request!!! I hope you like it, virtual hugs!

[szollibisz]

Do you have any hcs abt how Curt and Owen "came out" to one another? (Using the term loosely cuz obviously they can't just be like "IM GAY") And also how they got together (who fell first etc etc)

Ok, so to preface this, my favourite thing about curtwen is just how many ways you can interpret their pre-canon relationship.

I try to keep their story relatively loose in my head, save for a few headcanons I very strongly believe in, because it's more fun this way.

For me, the #1 headcanon that's in all the iterations I think of, is that they hated each other at first. I think their personalities clash way too much for them to be all buddy-buddy on the first day. (Physical attraction? maybe. Was it minuscule compared to their irritation with each other? yes.)

I just think it's interesting how the two of them gradually (and begrudgingly) start to care about each other.

I think their "friendship stage" is one of my favourite parts about the whole thing. Now I refuse to believe either of those men have friends. Maybe coworkers and acquaintances, but not friends. Which is why this stage lasts so little.

As their work their way up to care for and respect each other, both of them go a little crazy about it.

It's the first time in years or even decades they felt genuine affection and maybe even trust, and both of them are extremely starved for it. So it really doesn't take much for them to fall for each other. (especially since the aforementioned physical attraction was always there and only getting stronger as they learned to tolerate each other)

I imagine, because of this, Owen was the one who fell first, and he employed his usual tactic for dealing with unwanted feelings: Being an ass and depriving himself of good things. He got more intense about his work, trying to immerse himself in it, so he'll stop thinking about Curt. He stayed up late, didn't even try to take it easy when he had a migraine, drank shit coffee and other great things.

It technically worked. He looked like shit, which in turn made Curt worried, and if Owen completely invalidated his worries the two of them would get into a fight, be mad at each other and not interact so much. Owen thought this would make him not yearn for Curt so bad (he still did, in fact, yearn for him that bad)

When Curt realized he was in love with Owen he was pretty horrified. Like listen. If someone has commitment issues it's Curt. Maybe he had a boyfriend or two during his teenage years/twenties, but they didn't end well, and since then he's been trying to keep everybody at arms length. He convinced himself Owen wasn't so bad because hey. They were just buddies (and Curt desperately needed a buddy.)

He tried to shove down and ignore his feelings, but moaning your friend's name while banging another guy may just be a little more than what you can avoid.

He never understood why Owen turned so cold suddenly, and he was terrified Owen just didn't like or trust him anymore. In turn he was also mad at him for trying to shut him out.

Their little hate renaissance could only last so long though. They were still each other's only friends and no matter what they did they kept being drawn back to each other.

This was a super long preface but. I am not normal about those two.

So. different scenarios and headcanons and whatnot

1. Either one of them somehow discovers the other is gay. This would probably mean Owen finding out about Curt, because, I wholeheartedly believe that man would leave during a mission sometimes just to get a quick fuck in. Maybe Owen finds out with evidence (fast & easy method) or he just starts strongly suspecting with his great spying and deduction skills (slow & torturous method, he'd try to convince himself he's just seeing what he wants to see) either way, the confrontation would be very uncomfortable for both of them. Curt would deny it ofc, and Owen would go through the internal battle of "tell him it's fine, you won't rat him out, but be a little homophobic about it, so maybe you can keep the only friend you have, but also be ok with the fact that he'll always be with other men and never you" or "tell him you're gay too, maybe he likes you, maybe not, and potentially risk losing your job and livelihood and everything you've ever worked for" He'd most likely end up doing the latter, surprising both Curt and himself. (He's already way more into Curt than he admits to himself) And things escalate from there.

2. Dramatic post mission (maybe a "I thought I'd never see you again" moment) This is where their friendship gets really interesting to me. For a scenario like this the months long yearning is a given, maybe even a lot of unresolved tension between the two (which would probably be resolved with violence anyways) They care very deeply about each other by now. They know each other better than anyone, and their idyllic relationship is only made into a living hell by all the pining. At this point I mean, they'd buy each other birthday gifts, go over to the other's house when they were in the same country and share way too much info over drinks. Their job is always dangerous, but even they can get scared. Maybe we're talking being crazy outnumbered, or a torture/hostage situations, or hell even a collapsing building. Point is, id either one of them thought the other (or both of them) may die, at this point they'd be impulsive enough to just say I love you or kiss the other. In the moment neither of them would care, and later on, when you'd normally talk about things like near death makeout sessions, they'd just. not. do that, because communication is for guys with better life prospects. This one has absolutely no coming-out talk in it, simply because they don't need it

3. Possibly drunk hookup Now clearly, we are talking about two of the most down bad men ever. This is one scenario, I think could also work really well when they still really hated each other. Maybe throughout their first few mission they both gathered enough evidence and sussed each other out, and after (yet another) explosive fight they might just. Alleviate the tension by not beating each other up but by. other means. They don't end up talking much about it, but it keeps happening, and wait maybe they don't even hate each other all that much. (This is the more sober option) The other one is where the "possibly drunk" comes in. If they've been friends for a while, they probably got used to working around each other and finding comfort in the other's presence. This includes little habits, inside jokes, and even (very small) physical touches. This probably wouldn't go down during a mission, it's more likely to happen at either Curt's or Owen's house, maybe during some holiday. Both of them realizing it's a pretty bad idea early on, because, without all the stress of the missions and navigating a foreign country all that's left is them and the feelings they have for each other. Owen would probably say no to drinks for the first few times, just to avoid a potentially dangerous situation, but Curt would wear him down eventually. Now, with both of them drunk and comfortable, it wouldn't take much for things to escalate. Maybe Curt forgets to take his hand off of Owen after patting him on the back, or Owen holds Curt gaze for a little too long. Either way, those two end up fucking. The next day both of them are a little horrified, but they manage to come clean about their feelings (even if it's in the most backwards and convoluted way possible)

Happy ending (or not) There's many more ways it could've happened, but I already wrote wayyyy too much I think.

In the end I don't think they'd ever have a proper conversation about homosexuality, even way into their relationship. It's something they slowly pick up on from each other. How ashamed are they, what makes them tick, what you shouldn't say etc. And then of course, since they don't communicate properly and sometimes purposefully hurt each other, they'd throw it all back in the other's face.

I'm not sure this is what you meant when you asked for hcs, but I got carried away.

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 12

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: injuries (to an animal), non-explicit sex

Chapter word count: 4k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

Chapter 12

As they made their way back to the hills, Daphne wondered, for the second time, if she was making a mistake bringing Romulus home with her again, though this time, the uncertainty was not about him but about her own heart. He was never going to stay, she tried to remind herself. He was always going to be just a diversion, not a constancy.

In the following days, they went back to how things had been. She busied herself with her garden, started harvesting herbs for her potions and salves and tinctures, and made her usual rounds in the village. Romulus helped her with what he could around the house, while still taking care to stay hidden.

Something had changed in Romulus after the trip to Adala. Before, there had been a dark restlessness in him, like an animal lying in wait for its prey. She had witnessed its release when he attacked the robbers, and although it had been for her protection, his savagery had frightened her a little. At least he'd stopped when she told him to. If he hadn't, she might not have brought him back with her. But now that darkness seemed to have been drained out of him. He was quieter, less irritable, but also morose, bewildered, like a lost child who had given up all hope of ever being found. She supposed the news of the war ending and the former emperor's death had affected him more than he let on. Sometimes, as she came back from the village to find him sitting in silence at the door, his eyes watching the hills with a desolate look, she wanted to reach out and hold him, comfort him, but the uncertainty in her heart would stay her hands, and she would turn away.

But when he came to her in the middle of the night and touched her wordlessly, she never turned away. She gladly took him into her arms then, though after they were finished, he always returned to the bedroom, leaving her on her little cot. She tried not to mind it. She tried to tell herself that it mattered little to her, this furtive intimacy they shared in the dark. It was purely physical, a primal, simple need, like eating or breathing. But no matter how much she tried to tell herself that, it was no good. When he left her, she felt alone, and lonely. She longed for him to come to her not just for her sex but for herself, longed for his arms around her, for him to hold her just like he had after their encounter with the robbers, like there was no one else in the world but her. She hated herself for wanting him when he had no regard for her, and felt guilty about wanting him when she thought of Galen. Why should she feel guilty about Romulus, when she hadn't felt guilty about any of her other lovers, she didn't know. She vowed to turn away the next time he came to her, but she never did. She hated herself for that too.  

One morning, a few days after their trip to Adala, Daphne noticed one of the goats was missing. In the summer, she let them roam free, but Amalthea was very good about coming back to be milked in time. Now Daphne saw her trotting toward the house with her white kid in tow, but the black one was nowhere in sight.

She quickly called Romulus for help. A frantic search up and down the hillside yielded nothing, until a faint bleat led Daphne to a bush near the cistern. There she found the little goat, lying on his side, his back leg bent at an unnatural angle, with a bite on it that was still oozing blood. She scooped him up.

"A jackal must have gotten him," she said to Romulus. "Then perhaps he managed to break free and hide in the bush... Poor mite." She smoothed down the black fur on the goat's head and neck to calm him, but the little thing was too tired to move. He had stopped bleating and was lying limp in her arms; even his breathing was weak.

"What can we do?" Romulus asked, hovering anxiously by her elbow.

Daphne sighed. She had seen this plenty of times before with her grandmother's goats. Life was tough for the little ones; either they fell ill or a wild animal caught them. She was used to it, but it didn't make it any easier. "There's not much we can do, I'm afraid," she said. "The wound is severe. The best we can do is to put him out of his misery."

She started walking toward Ione's farm. Her grandmother had taken care of these things herself, but Daphne had never had the stomach for it. Ione's father would do it for her. Amalthea, sensing her kid's distress, trotted after her, so Daphne quickened her pace. Best not to let the mother see this.

"Where are you going?" Romulus asked, panic in his voice. "What are you going to do?"

"It is kinder this way," she said. "Even if he lived, he would be lame in one leg and always be weaker than the other goats..."

Horrified understanding dawned on Romulus's face, his new, boyish, vulnerable face, without the beard. "No!" he screamed, grabbing her arm to stop her. "You've healed wounds worse than this. You've healed me. Why can't you heal him?"

She stared at him. "You're human."

"And that makes my life worth more?"

"Of course." Even as she said it, Daphne realized how cruel that sounded, but she didn't know how else to explain it. It was the way she had been taught growing up. Life is hard, and there is no sense in mourning those who cannot survive it.

A strange look came into Romulus's dark eyes as he stared at the goat. "If you won't heal him," he said, "then I shall." He snatched the animal out of her arms and marched back to the house.

Following him inside, she found him searching her shelves for bandages, making a mess of all the jars and packets she had painstakingly labeled and organized, while still holding the goat with one arm.

"You're just going to get your heart broken if he doesn't survive, you know," she said gently.

"He is going to survive. I will make sure of it."

There was no stopping him then. With a sigh, she went and found a straight branch to serve as a splint, and helped Romulus wash and dress the wound on the goat's leg. She didn't know why she did it. Perhaps she had seen, in Romulus's concern for the goat, something of herself. Or perhaps it was for the same reason that she'd pulled Romulus out of the stream, the same reason she'd brought him home and let him stay against all sense and wisdom. Or it was because she was a healer at heart, and when she saw a wounded thing, she would try to heal it, any way she could.

"Why didn't you name these goats?" Romulus asked, once they had splinted and bandaged the kid. "You named their mother."

The question took Daphne by surprise. "I don't usually keep male goats," she explained. "When they're big enough, I would trade them with another herd, so—"

"It's easier to give them up if they're not named?" he said.

The thought had not occurred to her, but now she nodded. "I suppose, yes."

"I think I'll name this one Achilles," Romulus said, turning back to the goat. "Or Vulcan. On account of his leg, you see."

"Achilles died, didn't he?" she reminded him.

"Oh." He gazed at the goat, now lying quietly on the earthen floor. "Yes, I suppose it would be bad luck to name him after a hero who was killed by a bad leg. Vulcan it is then."

Daphne wanted to tell him to stop being so strange and contradictory, infuriating and frightening one moment, and sweet and kind the next. Her heart was confused enough. But she said nothing and only went out to bring back an armful of hay and spread it in a corner of the hut, to make a bed for little Vulcan.

***

Geta sat on the floor, watching Vulcan breathe laboriously on his bed of fragrant hay. Every breath the goat took was like a cord twisting Geta's insides. The poor thing was weak, so weak. It had been five days. Even though the wound had knitted, the little goat remained on his side, not eating the fresh new grass that Daphne had foraged for him or the grains she had soaked and softened. Following Daphne's instruction, Geta tried to get Vulcan to stand as much as he could, but the moment he removed his hands from under the goat's belly, the poor thing would collapse again. If it hadn't been for the honeyed water that Geta dribbled into his mouth, the goat might have perished long before this.

Behind him, Daphne finished stoppering the jars of aromatic salve she had concocted from herbs and oil and beeswax, and stood up from the table with a weary sigh. "Go to bed, Romulus," she said.

Geta didn't move. He was afraid that if he went to bed, his charge would be snatched away by Thanatos. Would Death deign to come for just an animal, or would the goat just simply cease to be?

"You sitting here all night won't help him heal faster," Daphne continued.

She had been rather short with him ever since Vulcan's injuries. At first, Geta had thought she was simply cross at his stubborn refusal to let the goat die, but then he realized it wasn't mere annoyance. It was as if she was building a wall around herself and keeping him out, yet he couldn't think of what he had done to offend her. She had brought him back of her own volition, hadn't she? He hadn't forced her to shelter him or take him into her bed every night. So why was she giving him the cold shoulder now? Women really are the most exasperating creatures.

He turned his attention back to Vulcan, to something more urgent and more comprehensible. Yet here he was faced with a confusion of thoughts as well. He didn't know why he had insisted on saving the goat. Surely Daphne had been right, surely it was foolish to waste so much effort on such an insignificant creature. Back in Rome, he had seen so many animals slaughtered in the Colosseum for entertainment. During his campaigns, he'd seen draught animals being pushed to the point of exhaustion and death, and thought nothing when a lame war horse was put down. Yet now, it was vital for him that this little goat lived. He wanted to prove—to whom? To those fools at the tavern in Adala? To Daphne? To himself?—that he was no tyrant, that he could be kind when he wanted to. He'd thought that the gods had spared him so he could strike down his enemies, but perhaps this was what he was meant to do—become a just and benevolent ruler.

"Do you think me cruel?" he asked suddenly.

Daphne, who was putting the jars of salve on the shelf, paused. "No," she said, sounding surprised. He noticed that she'd said it quickly, without thinking. 

"But I've done—terrible things."

She sat down next to him. "You're a soldier," she said. "You only did what you had to do."

He looked into her eyes, wishing more than anything in the world to believe her. Of course, she didn't know, but he clung to her words nonetheless. Yes, what he'd done, he'd had no other choice. He'd had to do it to survive. But this, this saving of a helpless creature? He did it because he could. He returned his gaze to Vulcan, following the rise and fall of the goat's flanks.

Daphne looked at Vulcan thoughtfully. "Tomorrow I'll make him some bean cakes," she said. "If he eats that, then there is hope for his recovery yet." She gave Geta's shoulder a brief squeeze. "Now go to bed," she said.

Geta brushed his hand gently over Vulcan's head one more time, before blowing out the lamp and retiring to the little cot—he had switched rooms with Daphne so he could keep an eye on Vulcan and not disturb her sleep. Daphne lingered at the door to the bedroom. Geta could feel her eyes on him, watching with a strange expression, just as she had the night they'd first slept together, searching for something only she knew.

Then she crossed the room, her tread light and quick, sat down next to him on the cot, wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you don't have to leave yet," she murmured, her lips brushing soft against his neck.

Her touches, her voice, and her words went through him like the sweetest, most tender arrow from the bow of Cupid. It inflamed his blood and settled in his heart, the heart he hadn't known he still possessed, making it ache with longing. He pulled her down onto the cot with him, hoping to ease some of that ache.

Yet he didn't push into her immediately, as he usually did, although every fiber in his entire body was screaming for her. With a tenderness that surprised even himself, he lifted a hand and caressed her cheek, lingering at the scar on the side of her face—the scar that he himself had given her.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.

"No," she said, her voice quieter still, like a whisper, her eyes never leaving his. "Not anymore." She reached up to touch his face as well, her finger tracing the line of his lips longingly. He grabbed her hand and put it away, almost instinctively. The light in her eyes dimmed a little.

"Why won't you kiss me?" she asked.

"It's nothing to do with you," he said. "I just don't like it."

"Can I kiss you then?"

He looked at her. She shifted slightly, pressing that lithe body against his. He felt himself teetering on a precipice, and the descent was so, so sweet. "Not on the mouth," he said. If he let her kiss him on the mouth with those lips, it would be all over for him.

She grinned at him, a wicked little smile that he'd never seen on her, a smile that sent his blood pounding through him. Turning her head, she kissed his hand, just a gentle brushing of her lips. Then, with a quick twist of her body, she spun them around and dropped little kisses down his neck, his torso, getting hungrier and hungrier the lower she went. The feel of that mouth on his skin was more than he could bear. With all the strength of his mind, if not of his body, he pushed her off.

"Enough," he said through gritted teeth. "No more."

Daphne looked hurt for a second, but she didn't move away. Instead, she slid a hand under his tunic and started caressing his bare skin. "But this you don't mind, do you?" she asked.

No, he didn't mind it. He just didn't want to waste time with it. His sexual encounters had always been quick, anonymous, no matter with whom—slaves in the palace, whores in the cities, camp followers on his military campaigns, or even highborn women brought to him during his provincial tours. None of them ever expected anything from him. They served him, and it was a privilege to serve the emperor, so there was no payment, and certainly no tenderness or affection. Yet when Daphne took his hand and guided it to where she wanted, her breath quickening, he followed her, matching the movements of her deft, gentle fingers on him with touches of his own. A cry of ecstasy escaped her. Quickly, impatiently, he found her center, just as luscious and warm as her mouth. He tried to turn her on her back, but she held fast to him, pinning her thighs around his waist, keeping his hands on her lips, locking their bodies together.

Their eyes met, and his breath hitched. In the silver light of the moon streaming through the window, her eyes were like two green pools. She had looked at him like that in the cave when she saved him, gazing down at him with affection and care, even before she knew him. His self-control crumbled in those eyes. In bed, he had always been a taker. Yet now, with her body moving so seductively above him and her eyes looking at him, hazy with desire, he found himself wanting to give her everything he had. His thrusts into her came harder, faster, and faster still, driven by a force outside of himself, a passion he could not rein in. When she threw her head back with another trembling cry and collapsed on top of him, he couldn't help following with a whimper of his own, as he enfolded her in his arms, never wanting to let go.

As his breath and his pulse returned to normal, his mind also cleared, and he eased off his embrace, embarrassed at how close he'd come to losing himself. Daphne, with her head on his chest, didn't notice the change and only snuggled closer to him.

"Was that good?" he asked, trying to gather up the tattered remnants of his old self.

Daphne lifted her head to smile at him. "You're getting there."

Her half-shy, half-satisfied grin assured him. Perhaps he could still regain some control after all. "I wager that husband of yours never gave you anything like that, did he?"

The moment those words were out of his mouth, he knew it had been a grievous mistake. Dapne's smile disappeared. She sat up, her eyes hardening. "Don't you dare mention my husband," she snapped, her voice harsh like a whip. "You're not half the man he was!"

She stormed out of bed. Something made Geta reach out and stop her. "Daphne, wait!" She pulled against his hand, savage as a trapped animal, but he held her tight. "That was foolish of me," he continued. For a confused moment, he tried to remember the last time he admitted guilt, but couldn't. It did not matter. He only knew that the thought of being alone after what they'd just shared was unbearable. And so he uttered the words he had never said in his entire life, "Forgive me." He pulled her closer. "Stay. Please."

At the contrition in his voice, the cold fire in Daphne's eyes died away. "You told me you disliked sharing a bed," she said in a softer voice.

"Not when it's with you." He laced his fingers through hers, and repeated, with sincerity, "Stay with me. Please."

"You fool," she said, not with anger but with gentle mockery and perhaps—dare he even hope?—affection. "If you ever say something stupid like that again, it's back to Adala with you, you hear?"

"Yes, Domina," he said, calling her by the most respectful form of address, only reserved for Roman matrons of high status.

Daphne may not understand the Latin word, but she understood his tone well enough, and she let him draw her down onto the cot with him. Soon she was fast asleep, curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder, one arm tucked against her body, the other draped across his torso in a posture that was both possessive and protective.

What had possessed him to utter such an idiotic thing to her? Was his manhood so threatened by tenderness that he must push it away and stomp on it and act the tyrant whenever he felt it? And just when he was trying to prove himself to be the opposite!

With a start, he realized this would be the first time, in all twenty-eight years of his life, he'd be falling asleep next to another person, a woman. All the women he took to bed were sent away immediately after he was finished with them. He looked at Daphne again. It struck him as rather ironic that he had sent those women away for fear of assassination, yet it was only after he had been assassinated that he'd learned to trust a woman enough to share her bed.

As he had done once before, he reached out and lightly ran the tips of his fingers over her features, over the frown lines between her brows, now smoothed out by sleep, over the long lashes casting shadows on her cheekbones, and over the soft, plump mouth, wondering what it would taste like. Daphne didn't open her eyes, but she must have sensed his touch somehow, because when his hand reached her mouth, her lips opened and closed around his fingers like a kiss. Then she grabbed his hand, pillowed it under her cheek, and slept on. He was trapped now. He couldn't get up without withdrawing his hand and waking her. But such a tender trap it was, and he didn't mind.

"Sleep, my sweet laurel," he whispered, and fell asleep himself.

***

The next morning, Geta woke to find himself alone on the cot. The front door was ajar—Daphne must have gone out to see to the chores. Out of habit, he cast his eyes to the pile of hay in the corner, and his heart dropped.

The hay was empty. There was no sign of Vulcan.

Geta leaped out of bed and ran outside, calling for Daphne as he went. Please, Jupiter, Minerva, and Mercury, he prayed, don't let me find her burying the poor little thing. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw her shaking the olive trees to water the garden, as usual.

"Where is Vulcan?" he asked.

"Was he not inside?" replied Daphne. "He was when I woke."

"You didn't close the door?"

"No." Daphne usually left the front door open in the morning, to let in some cool air.

Helpless fear gripped at Geta's chest. Could some wild animal have gotten into the hut and dragged Vulcan away?

As they looked wildly about, searching for some clue as to where the goat could have gone, a small bleat caught their attention. Both turned to each other, eyes widening. Following the noise, they came upon Amalthea and her white kid by the garden, breakfasting on the grass growing at the bottom of the stone fence. And next to them was Vulcan, still limping a little, but standing on his feet, contentedly munching on the grass with his mother and brother.

At the sight of the goat, Geta's heart soared.

"He lives!" he shouted, elated. He picked Daphne up and twirled her around, heedless of his old wounds, startling a laugh out of her. And then he laughed as well, rejoicing in the miracle of nature, before remembering that he was still holding Daphne clear off the ground. He gently set her down and would have gone to check on Vulcan, but Daphne held on to him, her hand on his cheek, eyes gazing into his. This time there was nothing severe or critical in her gaze, only tenderness, and he basked in it.

Then, abruptly, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Unlike her scorching kisses the night before, this was sweet, almost chaste, yet the warmth of it still burned him to his core.

"I must see to the garden," she said and hurried away, leaving him with a lingering memory of her lips. Somewhere deep inside him, the ache he'd felt the night before stirred again, a gentle reminder that he still had a heart.

Chapter 13

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[princelylove]

My Dear Prince,

As much as I love reading your posts about part 5 and other stuff you have given to us(I've been eating them up like a 2 week long starved woman who's having a bad case of uterus shedding) I can't help but notice I'm not seeing a lot more other parts. This is my fault ofc oopsies 🤭

May I request how yandere Jotaro (specifically part 3 but any other part is fine) would be like as a yandere from your godly perspective and writing? So sorry if you've already done something similar to this my memory is so bad.

Sorry for rambling, pretty please and thank you. 💞 ✨

A lot of- if not almost all- of my earliest posts are about Jotaro, actually. It’s so strange to think that that’s the semi-distant past, it doesn’t feel like it’s been six (or five?) months of having this blog already. I don’t mind going back to the same topic very much, it can be fun to update an interpretation. 

Jotaro has a certain difficulty expressing his feelings, which is funny considering his blunt and honest nature. He’s direct, yet not very expressive. Emotionally distant yet always physically present. His mother’s overbearing nature only backfired- Jotaro doesn’t like talking about his feelings because he didn’t want small things to be a big deal, and as he’s gotten older, he’s only shut himself off more.

He dislikes a lot of attention. The philosophy Yoshilage Kira holds- “I merely want to live a quiet life”- is more or less shared with Jotaro, but he just keeps attracting fuckin’ freaks. He’s cursed. He’s cursed, and somehow this is his fault- or, rather, it’s his spirit’s fault. 

Star Platinum is semi-sentient, it’s like Jotaro’s feelings are acting on their own rather than entirely separate from Jotaro. It obeys mindlessly, but often acts out of Jotaro’s curiosity. It finds amusement in picking up your clothes- whether it be a frilly skirt Jotaro gave you, or a shiny accessory it wants to put somewhere else- but it isn’t toying with you on purpose. While Star Platinum is good natured, Jotaro is… well, the intention is there.

Jotaro’s naturally introverted, I’d put his mbti as INTJ when he’s younger and INTP when he’s older. He’s analytical, likes to think things through, but you know what? Jotaro is impatient and rash when he’s caught up in his feelings. It gets better with age, but in his prime, it’s hopeless. It’s no wonder the initial manifestation of his stand forced Jotaro to self isolate, Jotaro doesn’t know how to handle bad things, and doesn’t want the attention that not being fine comes with. 

When he’s hit with another problem, he buries it. He’s never had a crush before, he doesn’t know it’s not supposed to be so… all-consuming. You know how when girls get all boy crazy, or whatever? Jotaro would say it's like that, but just for you.

Jotaro doesn’t like to lie, but he gets a bit choked up whenever he’s with his darling. He’s avoidant, and he’s not good at improv, so if his darling seriously drills him on his behavior, they’ll be met with huffs and grunts. 

Jotaro has a protective nature, it’s why he finds it so hard to just let things be. He’s attracted to smaller and considerably more fragile people. Of course this fragility is perceived, you could be ripped and Jotaro would be convinced you’d snap at the slightest bit of pressure. It makes him anxious to see you alone, what if a big bad wolf comes and snatches you up? Regardless of your capabilities, Jotaro thinks of you as a precious treasure that’s clearly labeled ‘Handle with care.’ 

He’s a very typical delusional type to me. Even if you flat out tell Jotaro one thing, he’s fixed into believing whatever he wants to. It doesn’t matter if you don’t need him, it doesn’t matter if you don’t even want him, Jotaro loves you. His love is very overbearing, although he himself wouldn’t word it like that. 

[legoflowrs]

HII i was wondering if you could do some hcs like you did for Kyle and Kenny but with Craig?? No pressure ofc! 💗

HEADCANNONS

cw: drug use, drinking, smoking, slight nsfw

AGED UP TO 18 PEOPLE

a/n: hiya! so in the head cannons craig is with tweek but obviously in the relationship ones he’s with reader xx

i’m also in my craig era rn! hope u like this anon <3

Craig Tucker

- I’m a firm believer in Peruvian Craig!

- He was adopted by Laura and Thomas but Tricia is their biological child.

- Struggled a lot with identity issues when growing up because he didn’t know much about his birth family.

- Laura being the angel she is worked extra hard to make sure Craig was in touch with his birth culture. Took him to a lot of events and tried to cook the food to the best of her ability.

- Out of all the families in South Park I think the Tucker family is the healthiest.

- Craig decided to not put a label on his sexuality. He just wants to go with the flow and see where life takes him.

- That being said it took a long time for him to accept he was attracted to guys. He had a lot of internalised homophobia because of the culture in South Park.

- He was petrified when he realised he had feelings for Tweek.

- I think his family were his rock during this time.

- Still flips everyone off. He thinks it’s peak humour (dumbass).

- Plays football 100%

- Dies when he sees that Tweek is cheering for him on the sidelines.

- Has a touch of the tism (lol).

- I think he really struggles to verbalise his emotions so he sticks to physical touch and acts of service.

- I think he’d probably also plays violin he finds it super calming.

- Listens to R&B.

- Goes to the gym a lot it relieves his stress.

- Goes for runs when he can’t go to the gym.

- Gets a job at Tweek bros and all the grandmas love him.

- Tea drinker!! His favourite is chamomile and honey.

- Tries to do some boxing with Tweek. Gets beat up by Tweek.

- Plays Roblox religiously.

- Likes cooking but hates baking.

- Wears slippers in the house like a little meemaw.

- I think he’d sell vapes on the dl lmao.

- HATES school dances but his friends force him to go anyway.

- Might not act like it but would die for his friends, he has a super soft spot for Clyde. They have been bestfriends for years.

- I head cannon he would become a firefighter lol (i have a fic idea in my head like firefighter!craig and paramedic!reader lol).

- Is still super obsessed with astronomy.

- But absolutely hates astrology he thinks it’s so dumb.

- Will go to the planetarium very often.

- Still wears his hat all the time. But in high school learnt to style his hair so started wearing it less often.

- Smokes weed with Kenny.

- Takes his alcohol well but gets super clingy when he’s drunk.

- He would say he hates parties but somehow is always at them.

- He HATES reading.

- Prob had to be tutored by Kyle during high school.

- Kenny pierced his nose.

- Has a good relationship with Tricia even though they bicker a lot. He takes her for ice cream.

- Loves kids but they find him intimidating lol.

- Is really good at calming babies down (meow).

- Royal blue is his favourite colour.

- Got into the bad habit of smoking cigarettes after having a fight with Tweek.

- Would have sleepovers with Tweek often. They make breakfast together 🥹

- He starts doing media in high school and buys a video camera. Makes little montages of his family and friends. Probably makes them for his friends birthdays as well. (this head cannon is inspired by the fic “ladies and gentlemen we are now floating in space” on ao3, go read it bc it changed my life).

- Plays chess.

- Listens to classical music.

- Likes hiking and discovering new trails.

- Guilty pleasure is Dolly Parton!!!!

- Avid milk drinker makes fun of others for drinking alternative milks.

- Grows flowers and gives them to Tweek. It takes ages cause he always forgets and they end up dying.

- Only drinks room temperature water.

- He has so many tattoos that Tweek designed (my head cannon is that Tweek is really good at art).

- Fucker is tall. 6’2!!!

- Is pretty defined from all the physical activity he does.

- When he’s older he rides a motorcycle.

- Exclusively wears converse. All his friends draw and write on them.

Craig in a relationship

- Okay let’s get down to business hehehe.

- Once again my major head cannon is firefighter!craig and paramedic!reader.

- He is super affectionate with you because that’s how he verbalises his love for you.

- Will do little things for you like tie your shoes or refill your water bottle without you asking.

- Absolutely froths when you wear his letterman jacket.

- He loves linking pinkies with you.

- He has a polaroid of y’all in his phone case.

- You guys have sleepovers often!

- You, him and Tweek go on day trips together.

- He’s not the best at consoling you when you’re upset but he really tries

- Y’all play Roblox together.

- He sends you gym gain updates (meow).

- Loves when your head is on his chest, he strokes your hair.

- Y’all always share headphones whenever you go anywhere.

- You are his passenger princess!!!

- He’s pretty experienced with sex. Loves making you feel good!

- Will hold your hand during sex he finds it super intimate.

- Is super insecure that you’ll leave him for someone who’s better at dealing with their emotions.

- I think he might have a tendency to blow up during arguments. He kinda shoves his feelings down so it all comes out during arguments.

- Goes for a run after y’all fight.

- Also head cannon that he will be super protective over you if you’re pregnant 🥹

- Would love to have a mini version of you guys running around.

- Likes to stargaze with you in the back of his truck.

- Y’all go camping together and roast s’mores on the fire.

- You beg him to go midnight swimming. He caves cause he can’t say no to you.

- Bends down to give you kisses.

- Loves holding your waist or hips.

- Holds your face in both his hands and gives you tender kisses on your nose.

- Will literally body slam you on the mattress cause he thinks it’s hilarious.

- You guys and Tweek have movie nights super often.

- When he falls in love he’s in deep.

- Will propose to you under the stars.

- Makes a video of all your friends saying happy birthday and a heartfelt message from him. Makes you cry for hours.

- Will pick you up when he hugs you.

- You braid Tricia’s hair and go get your nails done together.

- His parents adore you. Laura is a second mum to you.

- All in all Craig is super in love with you 10/10 boyfriend.