#ofc i have my own ideas of who it might end up being

[enden-k]

OK OK FORST THOUGHTS ON THE ECHO THING. Very rushed impressions

-Their idea of "self" is very weird. They cling to it, wearing the names physically (a reminder?) And at least from what we see in Yoma (?) (Bad with names, too new to catch my errors yet lol srry if i mispell/confuse ppl) initially they seem to really cling to what made the OG person "them". Probably a hyper awareness of the fact that they seem to be fragments?

-Gotta love the pug- i actually didnt even notice Bo was talking in my first read! I did notice the name in the collar tho lol. Again, very odd to me that they seem to cling to that. Stands out. The loreeee

-Poor guy inherited the asmtha lmao. Can't win

-"Og Jin was in an abusive relationship that left scars" meets "Echo seems to be a bit of a masochist". Again, something about it stands out to me as if it were their actions trying to maintain their own sense of self and the person they merged with ending up with fucked up mockeries of the initial habit

-PUUUUUG

-Just what happened to OG Yoma? I didnt gather much from the original hospital setting, since the mask could be due to his asthma so it might not have been what originally put him there. What did stand out to me was the fact that it seems to not have been long thay he stayed there, and the lack of family/contacts as his belongings remained mostly the same. Might have been that everything was sudden enough that family didnt have to deal with a dying person's belongings, might have been that there simply is no family to do so. But there is also the issue, if he were renting, stuff could have been thrown away if he missed enough payments (gotta love landlords/neg) so that's another one on "must be recent" side of the scale. Unless he owned his house/apartment/studio?

-THE THING WITH OG YOMA AND ECHO YOMA. COLORED ONE. AAAAHH THAT MADE ME SO SAD

-I have to know just what the energy thing is referring to. Particularly bc of the whole Jin feeding the other echoes that seemed to be tied to his proclivity to pain (unless I read that backwards and he's sadistic. But I'm pretty sure it was an M situation) just what is the process??

-Did that just say that Jin eats gold

-Can echoes even do that

-Google what is echo biology

-I'm glad Yoma found something that ties him to the artistic side, even if it's not what he originally was after! He deserves a hobby

-And a nap

-Someone get that guy a weighted blanket

-Also Yoma seems to be his last name too lol-holding back the urge to guess his other name bc this one seems to be a bit harder and I have stuff to do tomorrooooow

-very excited 🦜

ill try to answer in order AHHA i also hope it makes sense bc im sleepy and words are hard jsdbvkj

echoes disconnect from the body if they forget who they are rn. for some reason, they cant hold on to the name by memory (thats a thing abt echoes) so once they lose hold of the identity, they lose the body (rejecting them). thats esp a case for older echoes (echoes who took on lots of creatures) since they went by many names

bc yoma didnt merge w his OG properly, hes too aware of himself which is usually not the case (for new echoes); he rlly tries to cling to OG yoma and what made him him but actually just develops himself, a step that usually comes after years

echoes are beings that copy other beings and collect fragments and pieces of each being they are and were. they piece those together to become a "self" - they are called echoes (or doubles or other classic terms) by the public but if u wanna be more accurate to what they do (which the public ofc doesnt know since theyre so mysterious and scary to them and ofc theres bad echoes that makes humans go "omg so theyre monsters" bc humans are like that huh) its prolly more accurate to call them a "mosaic" of everything they were, rather than just an "echo" of who they are

bo is one of the completed echoes; they have developed their self but still goes by bo the pug for seis sake (the fact they can talk like a human shows how they already pieced themself together)

jins masochism isnt a cruel mockery of the OGs abuse; its a trauma response he inherited

anything regarding OG yoma is what yoma is going to find out himself so whatever happened (and whoever the OG was) is stuff to come

echoes tend to have one thing they resonate with and charge themselves with when they didnt merge w a creature yet; thats why yoma was hanging around hospitals, he resonates w blood (the most human) - there are different types of "elements" echoes resonate with (see it as smth similar to earth, fire, water, air)

despite that they cant feed on those "elements" they resonate with alone forever and they grow weaker and smaller when they stay without a body. only when they complete their self, built their energy, can they shape their form freely however they want instead of just a perfect copy and they can exist as their self so thats why they need to copy and merge.

once theyre merged, they live through the living creatures body with no problems or worries but they do occasionally bask in their "element" to replenish their energy (or heal their bodies bc they can heal/restore themselves when theyre injured. they cant die unless you behead them)

thats why jin occasionally eats gold (yes he does lol); he resonates with metals, gold specifically bc he likes the color and shine. giving yoma energy makes him consume more gold to replenish his own

yoma is a "broken" echo compared to anya, bo or jin; echoes live through a creatures (living) body. since yoma merged with a dead body, he cant live off the OGs energy which disconnects him a lot. he needs blood just like he did in his natural form since he resonates w it so jin provides it

nopee, yoma is his first name

i hope it all makes sense w my explanations kajbscjk bc it does in my head but wording it is a different thing wahh

thanks for the asks!!!

[hyuuukais]

POLL TIIIIIIME !!!!!

so.. zombie au :) i'm always so torn on main love interests. ofc it's skz, why wouldn't it be? (tw of just the word suicide)

so the idea is still cooking, but basically mc starts out as a part of a government organized quarantine zone, chosen to be trained in combat and sent out with a squad to find out what happened to another qz that's gone radio silent. mc has been led to believe there's genuine hope in this suicide mission, only to discover it overrun and destroyed. she barely makes it out, falling into the hands of a group of survivors.

ofc, she wants to make it back to her own qz, but has even more conflicted feelings and doubts about the life she once knew. her only other option is to join the group in trying to find a mythical "zombie-free city". will she and the group make it? does this city even exist?

so.

anyway!

love interest ideas? lol

also! warning, many major character deaths!

[ichthyorelationships]

an idea i invite anyone else to write about / run with lol....

the premise that The Change gets all messed up for alberto, say it's something that can happen from stress, &/or happens rarely and you just have to wait for it to resolve itself....used as some parallel to struggling through some emotional turbulence / upheaval / questioning / Realizing Things, etc etc

[olive-main]

oooo if you’re interested would love to see your take: reader is Azriel’s mate, nobody knows. The inner circle keeps trying to set him up with females (including Elaine & Gwyn). They like reader but don’t view her as an option for being his partner. Lots of angst, she’s hurting, she overhears them saying she’s not an option for him. Up to you what happens for her and Azriel. Loved your last story, and that you wanted more angst ideas!! And if this isn’t what you’re looking for, all good!

Between Us Alone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s mate overhears a conversation that shakes her confidence in their hidden bond, but he reminds her that love, even in shadows, is unbreakable.

Wc: 1.2k

A/N: Annndddd welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming. This time I come with the gift of some fluff (with angst ofc bcs duh—who do y’all think I am?) Enjoy the happy endings while they last…..evil laugh

Masterlist

——

The corridors of the House of Wind were quiet, save for the faint hum of conversation that drifted from Rhysand’s office. You’d gone looking for Azriel, hoping he might steal away from his “boys’ night” early and join you at your shared apartment.

A secret, the two of you. Hidden in plain sight. Quite fitting for Rhysand’s spymasters.

It was exhilarating at first—the quiet smiles across rooms, the fleeting brushes of hands, and the stolen glances when no one else was looking. But there were cracks now, small fissures of insecurity that made you wonder if keeping the bond private had been the right choice.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared Rhys’s office, voices clear now, though you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were about to knock when you caught the sound of Cassian’s boisterous laughter.

“Oh, come on, Az,” Cassian said, his tone teasing. “You’ve been spending all that time with Gwyn. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Gwyn’s sweet,” Rhysand added. “And she clearly enjoys your company. You’d make a good pair.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

Azriel’s reply was quieter, almost unreadable. “Gwyn is a friend. I’m not looking for… that.”

Cassian scoffed. “You say that now, but it’s been centuries, Az. When was the last time you even tried to let someone in? Gwyn’s perfect for you—kind, strong, clever. She gets you.”

“She’s not the only option,” Rhys said smoothly. “There are others. Nesta’s mentioned a few priestesses who would be good matches.”

Cassian nodded in agreement. “There’s also Y/N.”

You pressed your hand to the doorframe, your breaths shallow as you heard Cassian say your name.

“No, I don’t see them together. They rarely speak to each other outside of missions and a few shared words at dinners.” Rhysand says with a shake of his head as if the thought of you and Azriel together was the most unlikely thing he could think of.

You shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have listened, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. They didn’t mean to hurt you—you knew that. You’d always been on the periphery of their circle, a friend but never a true equal in their eyes. Azriel’s shadows had been your sanctuary, his quiet love a solace you cherished.

But to hear them speak so casually, as if you weren’t even a possibility…

Azriel’s voice cut through, firm and unyielding. “I don’t need you to play matchmaker. I can handle my own life.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Cassian said, clearly amused.

“Drop it,” Azriel snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

The room fell silent after that, but the damage was done. You turned and fled, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step.

—

The space you shared with Azriel was small but cozy, tucked away in a quiet corner of Velaris where no one thought to look. It was your haven, the only place you could truly be yourselves without prying eyes or whispered questions.

But tonight, it felt suffocating.

You sank onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as the doubts clawed at your mind.

This charade was necessary. You both knew that. If they ever found out you and Azriel had been together for months—years, now—it would complicate everything. Not just for him, but for you.

As Azriel’s partner, you worked in the shadows as he did, your work as vital and delicate as his own. Secrecy was second nature to you both, and you’d agreed early on that revealing your bond—to anyone—was too risky.

You’d thought you could handle it. But moments like this, when they talked about Azriel’s love life like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t his, made you question how much more you could endure.

You told yourself it wasn’t Azriel’s fault. He hadn’t encouraged them. He’d even told them to stop. But the weight of their words lingered, stirring fears you’d tried so hard to bury.

What if they were right? What if Azriel deserved someone like Gwyn, someone who could stand beside him without the need for secrecy?

You didn’t hear the front door open, too lost in your thoughts to notice the familiar sound of Azriel’s footsteps until he was standing in front of you.

“Something’s wrong,” he said immediately, his hazel eyes scanning your face. His shadows swirled around him, restless and sharp. “What happened?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

His brow furrowed, and he crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You looked away, your throat tightening as you tried to hold back tears.

“Y/N,” he said softly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. But you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I went to Rhys’s office,” you admitted quietly. “I was going to find you, but… I heard you all talking.”

Azriel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What did you hear?” He already knew. There was only one part of the conversation that could’ve had you so distraught.

You swallowed hard. “They… they were trying to set you up with someone. Gwyn, mostly. Rhys mentioned others.” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “They said I wasn’t even an option.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his shadows curling tighter around him.

“They didn’t mean it to hurt me, I know that” you added quickly, seeing how Azriel was ready to go back and pummel his brothers. “They don’t know about us. But… it still hurt.”

He exhaled sharply, standing and pacing the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “They had no right—”

“They care about you,” you interrupted. “They want you to be happy. And maybe they’re right. Maybe you’d be better off with someone like Gwyn. Someone who—”

“Stop.”

The word was a command, sharp and unyielding. Azriel crossed the room in an instant, kneeling before you again. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle.

“Don’t you dare doubt this,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare doubt us.”

Tears spilled over, and he reached up to brush them away, his touch achingly tender.

“You are my mate,” he said, his voice breaking. “You. Not Gwyn, not anyone else. You are the only one I want, the only one I will ever want.”

“But they—”

“They’re idiots,” he said flatly. “I’ll deal with them. But don’t let their ignorance make you doubt what we have.”

You searched his face, finding only unwavering certainty in his eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his voice softening. “More than I thought I was capable of. And I don’t care if they don’t see it. I see it. I feel it.”

A broken laugh escaped you, relief washing over you like a tide. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the world.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never wanted you to feel like this. I thought keeping the bond private would protect us, but if it’s hurting you—”

“It’s not,” you said quickly. “Not really. I just… I needed to hear this. To hear you.”

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours. “You’ll never have to doubt me again.”

——

Aren’t they just so sweet *sigh*. Thank you for reading <3

Requests are still open ;)

[lunaandco]

guys my age; part two

pairing: alexia putellas x ofc

summary: claudia is getting on alexia's nerves. a punishment was long coming

warnings: smut, spanking, age difference, power imbalance, angst

author's note: many wanted a part 2, and i usually deny any request, but after i had this idea i kinda had to... there will be a final 3rd part and that will be it!

masterlist // part one // series masterlist // I do not take requests

Claudia was doing it on purpose. Alexia watched her as she sat on Salma's lap, giggling about something she was showing her on her phone, her pretty smile directed towards someone other than herself.

Alexia knew she was being punished, in a childish petty way. Claudia was pissed at being denied more of their illicit activities, since Alexia insisted their one off in the hotel room had been a unique mistake that would not happen again.

She should be happy Claudia was finding someone else to be with, but jealousy was blinding her completely.

Alexia needed a full intervention, if she wanted to keep her dignity and reputation. A twenty year old starlet could not be the end of her.

The worst thing was, it was starting to be obvious. The night before, Irene had looked at her with an arched eyebrow and the knowing curl in her lips of a woman that was being lied to her face, when Alexia said nothing was going on with Claudia.

She obviously ended up caving. Irene was not necessarily approving, but she didn't blow off at her either.

"Sometimes we want thing that we can't have," she told her. "Be wise, capi."

Alexia hated how much that nickname reminded her of Claudia and what happened between them.

"Capi?" Alexia shot her gaze back to Claudia, who had left Salma's lap to approach her silently. "Can you take me home, please?"

"Can't Salma do it?" Alexia didn't mean to be rude, but as they got closer, Claudia started to get lifts almost exclusively from Salma.

"She's got family stuff she can't be late for."

"Ah."

Alexia should come up with an excuse. Say she also had something with her family or a dentist appointment. But just as it was unprofessional to sleep with her players as a captain, it was to avoid them at all costs.

So she ended up leading Claudia to her car, heart risen to her throat as she watched the youngster buckle up her seat belt. They had been in this situation cuntless times, but this was the first since they had... well, Alexia did not want to think about it too hard.

It would get her in trouble.

Claudia didn't seem to care about the tension—or percieve it at all—as she connected her phone to the Bluetooth to put her own playlist, humming one song or another.

"You've been avoiding me," she stated calmly.

"I—" Alexia didn't want to deny it, it would only add gasloghting to the list of crimen she had committed up until now. "We should keep a profesional distance. That is what I'm trying to do."

"Bullshit."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said bullshit."

Claudia's eyes were blazing with emotion.

"You want me. I can see it." Claudia's whole body was turned towards Alexia.

"Claudia we..."

"No. You. All our issues are actually your fears." Fire started filling Alexia's veins. "You're just a coward. You don't have the balls to take what you wan—"

Alexia took the wrong turn, and began driving in direction to her home, not Claudia's. It was closer and it had private parking. And her bed was there, if things escalated. Which theye were going to.

"What—"

"Silence."

Claudia gulped, the fight gone from her body. Alexia might have skipped a few traffic laws in order to get them there sooner, parking in her garden and exiting the car immediately. She swung open the passengers door, grabbing Claudia by the arm and quite literally dragging her inside.

The girl had very little time to stare at her surroundings and drink in Alexia's living space, before they reached the bedroom. She was not going to cower under Alexia's wrath, though. With a quick turn, that drove rival players insane, Claudia got on her tip toes and kissed Alexia, relishing in the way the captain returned the kiss.

But a sharp slap hit her ass.

"You need to be taught a lesson on repeat," decided Alexia. "I am your captain. For better or for worse. You will address me as such."

"Yes, capi," she breathed. Alexia gasped. She was still not used to that fucking nickname coming out of Claudia's pretty pink lips.

Still, she was not deterred. Alexia helped Claudia strip, who obeyed without protest, too enthralled by Alexia's sudden burst of passion. It was what she had been hoping for, by being a little more touchy with Salma than was necessary.

Once she was completely nude, Alexia sat on her bed, still dressed. She palmed her lap a clear non-verbal order. Claudia draped herself across her thighs, her ass right in front of Alexia, who squeezed one cheek.

"I presume you already know what is going to happen, you've been hoping for it, haven't you?"

"Yes, capi."

"You wanted this?" A harsh slap fell on the cheek she had been groping.

"Yes, capi."

"You understand this is a punishment, not a reward?"

"Yes, capi."

Another harsh slap on the other thigh.

"I would give you a count, but I don't want you to know how much is left."

Claudia gasped. It was as if Alexia already knew what she needed. The onslaught on her ass was non stopping. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, as she cried out. Claudia loved it.

Once her vision was blurry, and her throat was dry, Alexia's hand returned to gently squeeze the reddened skin.

"You were good, baby," she praised.

"Thank you, capi."

💙❤️

Claudia woke up later that evening. The sun was long gone, there was a dull throb on her backside, that had been clearly treated for the bruises with cream. A blanket was thrown over her body, and Alexia was sitting in silence by the foot of the bed.

"Capi?" she called with a stuttering voice.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure?"

Alexia's face was lined with worry. Claudia's body tensed, as if she could feel the thoughts swirling through her captain's head.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I really liked it, earlier. I—"

"It should not happen again."

Ah.

Claudia knew this would happen, in the back of her mind. Alexia clearly wanted her, there were already two instances of her doing exactly what she said they shouldn't, but the rejection still stung.

"Oh, c'mon. It's not a bad thing, I know you're hungry up with the age difference, and the captain thing, but I'm sure there is a way for HR to—"

"I said no, Claudia."

"Alright."

Furiously, Claudia got up from the bed, quickly finding her clothes and putting them on, even if it ached in the bruised areas of her ass. If Alexia still insisted she didn't want her, then Caludia would not beg forever.

"Wait, let me wash you up and make you some dinner at le—"

"No!" Interrupted Cludia with tears of frustration streaming down her face. "You don't get to reject me and then have aftercare. If you want to be all sweet and attentive, then fucking date me!"

Alexia looked hurt, but Caludia didn't care, storming off the house.

[dolicekiss]

Hi I'm not sure if you're taking requests (i don't know how the request work so sorry)

Could u write a one-shot, where Reader and Duncan have a mission and them go to the place but before do the work, they arrive at a hotel and them only rent a room with one bed (obviously) Duncan tells her that he'll take the bed and she'll sleep on the floor, then he go to take a shower and she doesn't care about his request and takes the bed, Duncan comes out and them start to fight because she didn't listen him, until she suggests that both take the bed (Duncan don't like the idea but don't decline and just does it) after a while she stars to tempt him at first he's angry bout all the situation, but the moment takes another path and u alr know (smut) if u r comfortable with ofc. (And sorry my english isn't great sorry for the type errors)

This is an idea of one chat with a bot of c.ia but the bots r not as good as a writer <3

♡: anon i know about this bot and i have done some freaky stuff w it 🤭 i love this request

Contumacious

PAIRING: Duncan Vizla x Bratty!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), unprotected sex, age gap (reader is in her twenties), bratty reader, dominant duncan, tension, oral (male receiving), duncan calls reader ‘little girl’, overstimulation, choking, hair pulling, biting, slight blood, degrading, talkative duncan, slight (very minor) fluff at the end.

SYNOPSIS: On a mission, Duncan decides to stay at a hotel room for further planning and to rest. But when he orders you to take the floor and decides to stake his claim over the bed, things become heated between the two of you.

Duncan didn't expect to see a single bed in the room when he stormed in, along with you, who carried your own bag of basic necessities.

Frustration was as clear as water on his rough features when he realized he'd have to sacrifice a good night's sleep if he were to allow you slumber along him.

So he didn't sacrifice shit.

The man dropped his duffle bag over the bed, in a way branding it as his. “I get the bed, you get the floor.”

You couldn't even oppose because he'd already left for the bathroom, assuming to take a shower. Your lips formed a frown, brows furrowing. Just who did Duncan Vizla think he was? You both were equals on this mission, sent by Damucles to strike down a Mexican mob boss.

Duncan being older didn't mean he could do as he wished. You stood firm on give respect in order to receive it, age had nothing to do with it. You also placed your bag on the bed and slipped off your boots, sprawling across it.

If you had to take the bed forcefully, then so be it.

When Duncan was finished with his shower and came out, he was the least bit pleased with the sight afore him. You on your stomach, laying on the bed, feet up in the air and oscillating.

His bushy eyebrows scrunched in irritation. The man stormed towards you, standing right in front of you and you lifted your gaze up fron the pistol in your hands. Only to acknowledge him before going back to toying with the weapon in your hands.

That only worked to raise his anger more.

“I told you the bed is mine. Get your little ass off it.” You lifted your head, to face him and then slid off the bed. Now standing right in front of him — gaze unwavering and posture strong. Duncan knew you were one hell of a stubborn brat. He'd come across you before and he hated every bit of it.

You placed your hand on your hip.

A pose that struck him with a lash of irritation.

“It is a big bed and who are you to claim it first? Just because you're old, you think you can come in here and order me around?” Duncan’s eyes flared up. Nostrils expanding and the anger on his face was like embers swirling in lava.

He took a step forward. “Listen here, little girl. I might be old but you could never reach the amount of missions I have been successful at, nor do you know real struggle. Try sleeping in the Siberian Winds with no clothes, not a single thread to cover your damn body.”

You couldn't believe it.

He was rubbing his life experiences in your face as if he didn't himself chose to work for Damocles.

He became the black kaiser because he wanted to.

In the heat of the prickling anger, you also stepped forward. Your chest brushing against his. “You chose that for yourself but I won't let you choose the bed. Either we both sleep on it together or you take the fucking floor. There's no way in hell I'm sleeping on the floor.”

Duncan groaned.

He knew of the abundance stubbornness you possessed. There was no way you would back out, knowing that the way you got yourself snuck into his mission was by being completely adamant and demanding money if not allowed in.

But he too couldn't retreat, as his pride was on the line. “I could easily throw you on the floor, little girl.”

You snickered. “I'd like to see you try.”

Duncan stared at you. Drinking in your petite form and how small you were in comparison to him. Primal and dark was what stirred within the base of his abdomen when his mind finally grasped on how pathetic you were. Indeed you were a trained killer, amazing at martial arts too but Duncan knew against him you stood no chance.

Due to the diligence of your work and mission, Duncan never really focused on your features.

Your challenge nearly caused him to pick you up and toss you on the damn floor. Duncan raised his hand — fingers opening to wrap around your throat. The inside of his fingers brushed across your throat and you swallowed tightly, waiting for him to act out his aggression.

Duncan’s hand fell.

Your brow raised at his defeat. “Fine but you better keep at your side. If I see a damn leg or arm of yours on my side, you best believe I'm choppin’ it off.”

You dismissed him with your hand and Duncan’s hand formed into a fist. He really wanted to teach you a lesson. Hating how you paraded around Damocles like you were the only one, an egoistic but skilled assasian.

Just for the sake of the mission, Duncan let it go.

He settled on the bed on one side and watched you take out your own clothes from the duffle bag, making your way to the bathroom. In your hand were some panties and a loose, button up shirt. It was what you'd managed to pack in a hurry when you were told about your mission with Duncan.

Honestly, you sort of looked up to him.

No one was as heavily respected in Damocles as he was.

The Black Kaiser.

Aim perfect and sharp. He knew so many ways to discard the enemy and you'd only witnessed a few of them on this mission. It filled you with unbridled excitement when you'd finally landed yourself with him.

Your shower was relaxing. Warm water soothing all your strained muscles — the combat sure taking its toll on you. Slow hands caressing the skin, ridding of it any dirt that lingered. After done shampooing your hair and washing your body, you dried yourself and changed into your clothes.

The outfit was sultry to say the least but you knew Duncan was a man who would never find you attractive.

You knew of his irritation and annoyance aimed at you. It was honestly adorable at times how he got pissed, finding joy in pushing at his buttons.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, Duncan’s head snapped into your direction and his expression hardened. There you sauntered towards the bed with bare thighs and plush breasts peeking out from within the confines of your shirt.

He swallowed, his adjustment of himself not slipping past you.

You laid down on the bed and let out a sigh, finally finding peace. A good night’s rest was surely needed and this bed could provide it all. As you shifted to find a comfortable position, your shirt rose up in the friction exposing the black lining of your panties.

Duncan caught a glimpse of it.

His eyes darkening.

“Could've worn something warmer.” Duncan said, not looking at you. A scowl made its way across your face as you sat up, body strength on your palms. Leaning forward made your loose shirt fall by your sides, cleavage revealed.

“You got a problem with everything, old man.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Is that your only retort? Calling me old?” He snapped, staring at you. For a moment his gaze lingered to your lips and then back up to your face. Eyes filled to the brim with frustration and something – dark too. Lust or maybe anger.

“Are you not old? I bet you can't even get it up anymore.” You chuckled and that seemed to have crossed the line. Duncan reached for you, hand entangling in your hair. You felt him tug on the roots and pull you closer, face only a mere inches away from yours.

Your breath hitched.

Fighting him right now could get really dirty and you wanted to see how far Duncan was willing to go. His action only working to entice you. “You really should watch your damn mouth, little girl. I don't take nicely to such disrespect.”

You let out a chuckle. “Accept it. You cannot get it up, old man.”

Duncan’s fist tightened, nostrils flaring at your impolite words. You stared at him, your tongue slithering out like an enticing snake and running across the plump of your lips in an attempt to seduce him. “Or can you? I've heard older men fuck better. Is that true, Duncan?”

Duncan growled.

He tugged you down, to between his legs. Duncan nuzzled your face against the tent in his trousers. His bulge protruding as he shoved your face against it. “Does that look like I can't get it up, little girl?”

You shook your head slowly, hands hastily moving to pull down his trousers, paired with his briefs. His cock sprung out, nearly hitting you in the face and a soft gasp escaped your lips. It was big — fucking massive and you hadn't expected a man of Duncan's age to have such a big cock. Precum sheened over his tip.

It was thick and you knew the pain of the stretch inside you would be delicious. Veins ran from its base, disappearing underneath the pink tip. Your mouth watered at the sight, fingers gently wrapping around the girth.

A sweet hiss fell from Duncan’s lips.

You parted your lips and pushed out your tongue, running it in little licks over his tip, managing to taste his salty precum. Duncan’s breath grew heavier along each lick — chest moving in a slow rhythm.

His fingers still drowned in your hair. Duncan tugged harder, an indication for you to pick up. So you did, wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking it in, taking his fat cock all the way into your tight mouth until it had fully disappeared. You could feel it slip past the little uvula hanging in the air of your mouth, the warm flesh feeling like embers over your tongue.

“Jesus, you're pretty good at taking a cock.”

A giggle almost slipped — you attempted to breath through your nose and salvated around his throbbing dick. Your eyes met Duncan’s drowsy ones and as you whimpered, the vibrations from your throat shot straight through his abdomen.

His hands guided down your head furthermore, burying your nose into his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

Duncan pulled you up, only to slam his cock back inside your mouth. A repetitive action, his thighs shaking and flexing whenever the wetness and constriction of your throat welcomed him. Panting like a hungry beast, he fucked himself into your mouth.

Hips snapping up in desperate thrusts to gain his release.

“Good little girl. This is what your mouth is made for—what it's supposed to do.” He grunted when your struggles began in the form of small hands lightly punching at his thick thighs. “You're only a cocksucking little bitch.”

Tears stung your eyes from how horribly you gagged all over him. His tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat while moaning out loud. Divulging his pleasure to the people outside the hotel room.

Duncan loved the way you gagged around his cock. Tears sitting prettily in your beautiful eyes and he couldn't help but feel himself come near at the sight of you, this weak and pathetic underneath him. If he'd known sharing a bed would lead to this, the man would've given up in one single breath.

“Fuck—fuck. I'm close, I'm so fuckin’ close, my little girl. Keep suckin’ my cock like that, like the filthy bitch you are.” Duncan was vocal.

That was for sure and you enjoyed every bit of it.

After fucking your mouth for quite some time, Duncan finally shot loads of warm fluid down your throat. You struggled, kicking and thrashing everywhere but he didn't let go. He only continued to ride out his orgasm, feeling his own cock lubing up in the process of fucking his cum down your throat.

When he let you go, you promptly pulled back with a loud gasp. A sharp intake of oxygen. Cum and saliva dribbling in rivulets down your chin, tears wetting your cheeks. Duncan watched as your tits rose up and down, bouncing down slightly whenever you dragged in air.

Your eyes widened when you saw how Duncan’s soft cock suddenly became hard again, rising up. Curved and strong — tip caressing his abdomen. It was embarrassing for you because you'd called him out for not being able to get it up, here he was. In his late fifties, ready to fuck you dumb.

“Fuck you lookin’ at? Hop on.”

Your pussy throbbed. An insatiable ache that only his delicious cock could satisfy. You tossed one leg over his waist, while holding his cock with your hand. Aligning it at your hole, you finally sunk down on it. Duncan and you groaned in unison.

Feeling his cock enter you was such an indecipherable feeling. He filled you all the way, his tip reaching your womb almost. You placed both your palms over his chest, running your nails into the grey and black hair on his chest. Your lips parted, eyes rolled as you fully consumed him.

“Such a hungry fuckin’ pussy you've got. Taking me all the way in.” Duncan raised his hand and smacked your ass. “Cmon, move now.”

You obliged — beginning to grind your hips. In a slow back and forth rhythm. Duncan’s head was thrown back, pressed into the headboard while both his hands settled at your hips. Helping you grind down on his cock. You didn't even want to move, that's how much you fucking relished in him filling you up but then he lifted you, slamming you back down on his cock.

“Yeah, just like that.” He growled when you started to slide up and down. Hopping like a damn bunny in heat, feeling his veiny thick cock rub at your sensitive walls. Your whines were loud and prominent through the room as you held tightly onto his broad shoulders.

Lips agape and hair wet from the shower, it made you appear ten times prettier than you were. Duncan’s cock only hardened more, if possible inside you. The tremor in your whole frame was slowly becoming known to him and he scoffed, a breathty grunt leaving his lips. “Can't even fuck yourself on my cock and you have the audacity to speak to me with disrespect.”

“I'm sorry,” came a whimper from you. Nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, dragging them down into tiny slits.

Duncan helped you ride him, both his hands tugging at the flesh of your rear. He drove himself into you, in and out, in a fast rhythm. It was all too hot. Your body felt like it was boiling up and Duncan’s hands moved up to hold your breasts, thumbs flicking the nipples.

Dark brows furrowed and lips fallen apart, he let out aggressive grunts like some hounddog that couldn't have enough of you. “Pathetic whore. Jus’ a pathetic little whore who needed to be fucked. If—fuck,” he grunted, balls throbbing. “If you craved a cock this badly, you could've said so.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and walls gripped him like a vice. Duncan leaned forward and bit down on your shoulder, teeth digging into the skin hard enough to draw blood. He continued making you ride him, loving the way your tits bounced in his hands. A feeling driving him delirious.

The sound of skin against skin grew.

A languorous heat spread in your lower stomach. An indicator of your upcoming orgasm. Duncan’s hands kept playing with your soft mounds — his teeth littering bite marks at where your neck and shoulder became one and the way his hammered his cock inside your cunt was enough to push you over the edge.

Your arms flew to his shoulders, holding him tightly. “Duncan, ‘m gonna cum. ‘m so close, please.”

He looked up at you, loving the warmth you produced when you'd clung onto him like a koala to a tree. He pressed his lips over yours, something he himself was in shock at. His teeth tugged at your lower lip, sucking on it and as the kiss warmed, so did your cunt.

Duncan groaned as you slammed down on his cock repeatedly. A strong and soul chilling orgasm tearing through you. Eyes rolling back to your head and whimpers of sensitivity echoing in the room. He held you tightly as you came, enjoying how your little frame suffered from convulsions under his hold.

Duncan didn't give you a chance to even register your climax. He'd already began thrusting up your cunt, arms wrapped around your waist in a bone crushing hold. “Wait—wait! I still— oh my god.”

He didn't let you relax.

After all he too needed to cum.

Duncan could feel the throbbing sensation in his balls and the pulsating of his fat cock inside you. With a few, harsh strokes delivered inside your pussy, he released himself and your head buried in his neck from the feeling of being filled to the brim. His hot cum shot out, rope by rope, decorating the gummy walls of your pussy.

You could feel all of it.

Heightened sensitivity.

Your body went limp over his, leisurely dropping and Duncan held you. Both of you panted like wild animals who'd just got done finishing their preys. Your breathing was uneven and your throat was parched. Duncan heaved out, his low groans sending waves of sparks to your aching cunt again.

Thick fingers running up and down your bare back, with his other hand he caressed your hair. He wasn't rough when it came to sex but at times he felt like destroying your cunt whenever you'd speak to him in that stuck up, vicious little tone.

Duncan’s hand that played with your hair suddenly tightened, fingers pulling on the soft locks and you whimpered.

You were thrown off his lap on the bed. Appalled at his actions, you turned to look at him but Duncan only pressed your head further into the bed with his large hand. His other hand pulled your lower body, bending your knees.

“Wh-What are you doing?” You gasped out, the question coming out muffled.

Duncan let out a chuckle. “You thought we were done, hm? There ain't no way we're done with one round, little girl.”

You couldn't even resist as Duncan sunk his cock into you. Back arching and spine curving, a muffled whine of need and satisfaction echoing. He held you down as he thoroughly fucked you, his hips colliding with yours. Balls hitting the swollen stripe of your cunt.

“Look at you.” His bated breath increased your libido, as you were also speechless at his. Duncan was still ready to go on meanwhile you were struggling with staying still. Tired and drained from all his harsh strokes.

His grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you up to his chest, locking you firmly. Duncan pulled out then pushed right back into you, his tip reaching your womb. A small bulge forming on your stomach everytime he slammed back into you. Tears of overstimulation dropped like pearls on your face and Duncan moaned in your ear.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He praised.

Your walls clenched.

Duncan hissed and felt his strokes become steady, dragging across your spongy walls to feel them. Then he climaxed inside you, filling you up again once more. This time his cum dripped out of you, making a mess on his own cock and your thighs. Pussy glistening from the slick, cum and your own climax.

Duncan pulled out and pushed you back down on the bed.

He also collapsed next to you.

Chest rising up and down, breath a broken rhythm. You sniffled into the pillows, thighs shivering the overstimulation you'd suffered at the hands of Duncan. He wasn't as cruel as you'd depicted him to be. Duncan reached for you, pulling you closer to him and wrapping an arm around your waist.

His large arm covering the expanse of your chest.

“Sorry, little girl. You piss me off a lot.” He whispered and you flipped to face him, burying your face in his chest. “And I'll continue to piss you off.”

Despite the fact that he'd pretty much blown your back out twice, you still held on to your defiant traits. He let out a laugh, reaching over to grab a cigarette and light it up.

Dragging in a smoke, he brought the cigarette to your lips and your parted them, allowing him to settle it between them. You pursued his actions and released the smoke through your nostrils.

“That feels good.”

Duncan smiled. “Better than my cock?”

“Oh shut up.”

[noemilivv]

Could I please request a Vox, Adam, and Lucifer x GN! Reader who’s typically very chatty and hyper when excited. And maybe somebody says something like “you talk too much”, and it obviously gets to the reader. And how Vox, Adam, and Lucifer would respond and/ or defend their s/o? Thank you!~ :3

ofc!! this is very fun to brainstorm and write for haha (especially for Vox)

Warnings: S1 finale spoilers in Lucifer’s section, randos + Alastor being shitheads

Adam, Lucifer, Vox x Reader who talks a lot

Adam

He had absolutely no idea you felt this way until you two were having a conversation before bed, and he said something he didn't mean

“Geez, you talk a lot.” Adam commented with a light hearted chuckle as he looked down at you, snuggled into his chest and the covers of your shared bed, he didn’t mean any harm though, it was more so commentary.

“I can stop…” You murmured, embarrassed. “No no no, it’s okay, keep going.” He said, rushing to cut you off, as he snuggled your face deeper into his chest.

Adam won’t hesitate to jump in if somebody says something, because only HE can do that.

“You talk too much, you need to calm down, it’s not that serious.” An angel said, while at a meeting, your shoulders dropped before you heard your boyfriend pipe up,

“And? Who gives a fuck? It’s fucking Heaven, bitch. People are allowed to talk and be happy, damn bruh, you’re a fucking party pooper!”

Lucifer

He has his own tendencies to go on endless rants here and there so honestly you both just talk nonstop, and he doesn’t mind a bit!

If someone were to say something to you, he’d have a reaction similar to his reaction with the Charlie-Adam fight, but more tame cause the person didn’t physically harm you

“Stop talking and let me finish!” Alastor said cheerfully with a grin as he went to continue his sentence.

“You don’t get to talk to my partner that way, you smiling freak.” Luci said with a forced grin between gritted teeth, turning his focus away from the conversation with his daughter and her girlfriend and putting it to the conversation between you and Alastor.

“I’m the smiling freak? Look at you! You’re face is all messed up, especially that god-awful smile.” Alastor remarked, poking the bear that was the very protective Lucifer Morningstar, both when it came to his daughter and his partner.

“OKAY!” Charlie said attempting to separate the two, with Vaggie rushing to her aid.

Yeah, if they weren’t stopped, that wouldn’t have ended well😀

Vox

He doesn’t mind your talks, he’s a good listener, but he might not catch everything if he’s working, but if he’s not? He’s all ears.

He’ll act super nonchalant about it, but he thinks it’s the cutest thing.

Normally, he isn’t willing to cause a scene because of his status, but when someone insults the thing he loves most about his partner? Yeah, that shit isn’t flying with him around.

You were scrolling through the comments of the most recent interview that Vox had on his show, which happened to be with you, and you couldn’t bare what you were reading. Mainly the comments like: ‘Omfg Vox’s partner doesn’t stop talking’ or ‘Vox can do better’ or ‘Can they just shut the fuck up? Like bro it’s not that hard.’

You just shut your phone off and slammed it onto the night stand, as tears trickled down your face, all you wanted was to be enough for him, if these people think these things, he probably would to.

You hear someone enter your shared bedroom, with you curled up in blankets and sniffles coming out of you, you feel the bed dip next to you, and a robotic voice that has to belong to Vox ask, “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“People are just mean…” You mumbled, turning on your other side to face him and picking up your phone and handing it to Vox, you watched Vox scroll for a moment, watching his eye twitch angrily.

“I will handle it, sweetheart. I’ll be right back, don’t you worry your precious mind about a thing.” Vox said, stroking your hair, as he got up and left the room.

Turns out, Vox did a bit of…digging. He got the contact information of the main commenter who gave you issues, and sent them, a little surprise video…

The video showed Vox in office chair, he got straight to the point immediately, banging his fist onto his desk. “Listen here, you little bitch.” He growled, he was glitching out of anger already, damn.

“You don’t get to talk about my partner that way.” Vox stated, waving his pointer finger at the camera, “And if you do?” Vox asked rhetorically, giving a fake grin, before he became more visibly angry then you’ve ever seen him.

“I will personally find you myself, you low-life, fucking loser, and I will tear you apart. Just because your a sad sad, 40 year old virgin man, who still lives with mommy and daddy rent-free and plays on your VoxBox all day, doesn’t mean you get to insult my partner, and you should know better to not EVER pull that shit again, and if you even think about trying to I’ll fly drowns all throughout Hell and make sure they fucking find you and rip you apart, you hear me?”

His anger falters as the glitch does in his voice, “Anyway, have a lovely day, and don’t fuck with my partner again.” He said with his usual show grin as the screen went black immediately.

Yeah, don’t expect him to do that often.

[onceonafullmoon]

Ikepri Yandere chart (least to most dangerous)

(These are just my interpretations on the 8 princes ofc, and I’ll def do another hc collection for the other suitors if y’all want!! The princes in the color lists below aren't in any particular order, so you can rearrange them in your head) Warnings: implied kidnapping, violence (towards reader and other people), murder, noncon elements and manipulation

Green- not a threat Orange- you’re on thin ice Red- pretty dangerous Pink- you’re screwed

Yves

The most sane prince of the bunch arguably, so he’s also the least likely to become a yandere and the least dangerous one.

He’s too soft and sensitive to manipulate, and he doesn’t have too many connections in Rhodolite due to his Obsidian heritage. The only thing he really has going for him is talent with the sword… which isn’t all that great.

But while Yves doesn’t have that many talents, he’s a hard worker and he’ll definitely do his best to keep you by his side, no matter what.

Honestly, it’s more like dealing with a really annoying pushy guy who can’t take no for an answer than anything really scary, but there’s always the underlying fear that he might snap on you whenever you’re alone.

Nokto

Nokto is pretty unstable and sensitive despite the front he puts up, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.

Nokto has plenty of connections, so not only are you at risk of being hunted down by a rich benefactor’s mercenaries, any attempt of escape to another country be thwarted by his foreign allies

But don’t let his sly nature fool you, Nokto is deep down just a brat who wants to be held. And despite his manipulative nature, he’s hesitant to use those tactics on you because he truly does want you to love him back.

He’ll definitely try to come onto you a few times, but the likelihood of him forcing himself on you is practically non-existent, and he’s too squeamish to hurt you.

That’s being said, you’re still trapped with him for a lifetime, and you might just end up giving in.

Jin

With his aversion to love and the fear of becoming like his father, Jin becoming a yandere isn’t too likely… but sometimes fixation on not being something leads to being like it.

Jin’s a pretty physically tough guy and he’s well enough like by the people, so he’s got a few connections, but the most terrifying thing about him is the way he can get you to let down your guard.

He always uses whatever you’ve confided to him in secret against you by gently nudging you to go along with his ideas… after all, you trust him, don’t you? And if that doesn’t work, blackmail is definitely on the table.

Jin isn’t too scary, but he’s a bit… much at times, just a bit forceful when manhandling you. But he’ll never force you himself on you, swearing to himself that he’s at least better than his father in that sense.

Clavis

Oh sweet Clavis… despite his mischievous demeanor he really is just a pure hearted guy… that being said his desperate need to be loved can twist him.

Clavis has skills with the sword, shady business partners, and most terrifying of all, a very inventive and brilliant mind though he often underestimates himself.

I mean, (spoilers) he literally keeps an entire colony of people a secret from all the other princes (save Chevalier), how hard can it be to hide away one more person?

Not to mention, while he’ll never hurt you or force you to do anything you don’t want to do, he’s not above doing anything to put you in a more… vulnerable state.

You’re just going to have to pray he doesn’t figure out how to concoct a love “potion” for your own sake.

Leon

You might be surprised by his ranking here, but Leon despite the fact that he might not be very likely to be a yandere, is *very* dangerous.

Not only is he a talented swordsman, he has something that most of the other princes don’t have, a social life.

Okay, jokes aside, Leon is so likable and well respected that even if you do escape, hardly anyone will believe you, or if they do, they won’t even bother to care.

Leon isn’t completely deranged though, he’ll still allow you to push back and fight against him, but he has his limits too you know? Just don’t push too far, he’s not above roughing you up just a bit.

Chevalier

Yeah, you probably expected that he’d be pretty high up, huh? Well while he’s unlikely to fall in love, when he falls, he falls hard.

Chevalier might not have connections, but who needs connections when everyone is afraid of your sharp mind and skill with the sword? Not that escape from him is very likely anyway with his smarts.

The thing about Chevalier though, is despite his demeanor, he’s against unnecessary violence, so any worry about him attacking you in anyway is entirely unnecessary.

That being said, you’re not sure if the about the people you care about are in the same boat, and he knows that, so he uses that fear to keep you in check.

But he’s a genius after all, he’s sure he can make you fall for him eventually, it’s only a matter of time.

Licht

I bet you didn’t expect the babiest of baby boys to be so high up, but make no mistake, a man with nothing to live for has nothing to lose… except you, and he’ll do anything to keep you with him.

Licht is rumored to be one of the top swordsmen along with Leon and Chevalier, and while he doesn’t have any connections himself, Nokto is pretty willing to go along with whatever his twin brother wants.

But the thing that makes him so scary is the fact that he’s completely obsessed with you, he worships you, don’t you know?

Unlike the other princes before on this list, he has no qualms killing people if it’ll keep you with him. And he’s so obsessed he might force himself onto you if he thinks it’ll keep you around.

Be gentle with him. Not for him, but for you.

Luke

I mean, isn’t he basically already a yandere from what we’ve seen on his route? Platonically or romantically, if you catch this man’s attention, he’s going batshit insane for you.

It’s true that he’s the prince with the least resources having only known of his royalty for a few months, but he’s also the prince most willing to risk everything because of it.

After all, what care does he have for this kingdom? He only needs you, and he’ll do whatever he needs to keep you with him.

It also doesn’t help you that he has (spoilers) connections with the literal prince of Obsidian. If he needs to he can just grab you and cross the border.

And he’s honestly not above breaking a few of your bones if it means keeping you with him, though he might not force himself on you… hopefully. Just try not to set him off, he’s like a firework ready to explode at any minute.

[samitostuff]

ART DUMP ART DUMP ART DUMP ART DUMP ART DUMP ART DUMP ART DUMP ART DUMP ART DUMP ART-

a little angst, otherwise it wouldn't be a DC AU, ofc

in this drawing, i was thinking about p&f reader's arrival at wayne mansion and how alone she must have felt since no one really cared to spend time with her and, if we go the route where her mother died, she just went through a traumatic event and has literally no one to support her through her grief

and I can even see people around her just brushing off her feelings, since she was adopted by a rich family, so it doesn't matter if she lost someone important for this to happen, she should be grateful that she isn't in a worse situation yadda yadda

in this one I was just having fun with the idea of the crossover between gravity falls and this au, which is a brilliant one! I literally can't stop giggling while thinking about how dangerous, big, incredibly bizarre and probably traumatizing adventures these three would get into

(and if you saw what I did there, you did it, If you didn't, you didn't)

ohohohohohohoho this one

I kept thinking about p&f reader helping this alternate version of Batman solve the vampires case while stuck in their dimension, and then waddling away as soon she's done with it and still making It in time for dinner

I just hold this scenario very dear to me

I might move this one to digital, I still don't know if it's worth the sleepless nights I'll probably have, but we'll see...

I also remembered our our lord and savior @yanmuffins mentioned once that these two versions of damian were going to end up fighting once because of p&f reader and that information just stuck in my brain in a way I just can't get rid of it

aside from that, maybe I should make vampire!reader with a mullet, I feel this would make her hotter-

It will probably never happen, but imagine if jon manages to confess and it ends up being reciprocated? or p&f reader just found out some very important things about herself, like an allergy or smth

I couldn't do an art dump without tim being paranoid about perry, sorry, it was stronger than me

more crossovers, mORE, MORE, MORE

(and again, if you saw It, you did it, If you didn't, you won't)

It doesn't look like It, but the thing in the ground is a book... the journal kinda book

and last but not least, the p&f reader in the vampire!reader dimension, but she got yoinked outta the mashine she builted by her own father who immediately recognized the extremely intelligent and problematic genius in her blood, which was all the fucking confirmation he needed to confirm that she was, infact, his daughter

the fifty seven hours without sleep didn't help his case either-

[shaanks]

Okay I gotta ask this silly question bc I see this headcanon around a lot and I want to hear your take on it: do you think Shanks bathes? Like I don't think he has a five-step skincare routine or anything but I also don't think he's severely lacking in personal hygiene either, y'know? Any thoughts? 😅

I have a little backlog of Shanks asks in my inbox but THIS one I absolutely have the energy for.

I have no idea beyond like. A desire to apply this universe's pirate era hygiene to the OPverse's residents, and/or a need to kind of downplay a fictional man's standards by applying IRL men's aversion to soap to them, why or how people have come to the conclusion that Shanks stinks and never bathes and all his clothes are greasy and so on and so on ad nauseam. Weird work weird behavior, even from the folks who like want him real bad.

Like to a degree I can see where a group just starting off might end up a lil stinky if they're like. On a skiff like Luffy Zoro and Nami started out on in the baking sun or whatever but like?? Shanks went from Roger's crew on Roger's big nice ship where prime Rayleigh was and where they also had facilities, money, and a doctor on board, to his own crew and the shortest stint ever as Regular Pirates before becoming a Yonko himself and acquiring the Red Force which is also a big nice ship with facilities and a doctor on board.

Not only would hygiene be easy to keep up with, but any doctor worth their salt (which Crocus and Hongo both certainly are) wouldn't let them get the battery of preventable illnesses that come from not keeping themselves clean.

Additionally?? And I covered this briefly in another ask, but like?? Shanks has nice clothes! Are the prints on his pants silly? Sure. But everything he wears is nice good quality fabric, his hair is thick and soft, he keeps his facial hair, brows, and nails trimmed nicely? Aside from just like. Being a guy, I would love to know what part of his appearance suggests he doesn't take care of himself. Because I truly don't see it.

Also ALSO additionally it's canon that Shanks is very attractive and well-enjoyed by loads of folks but esp women, and I can't imagine if he was gross and filthy and stank that that would be the case. To each their own, ofc, but like. Statistically speaking.

tl:dr I think that while he probably isn't doing a 12 step K beauty routine or whatever, Shanks is clean and well kept and smells nice and takes care of his teeth and the like. Definitely not a man who would be shy about washing his ass, you know what I mean?

[transmutationisms]

idk if you're autistic (or if you're willing to share that, ofc not my business) but how do you square the idea "neurotypicalness doesn't exist" (a statement i.......kind of agree with but well) with the fact that, at least in mine and other autistics i know experiences, we absolutely interact with the world in a fundamentally different way. ofc i agree autism is a naturally occurring variable way for a person To Be, but doesnt that mean being non-autistic and/or neurotypical is also as such - is it bad, in the meantime, to describe our experiences this way? much of my own suffering is not just from a lack of societal accommodation but from a fundamental inability to connect with others who are not autistic because, to me, they operate in such a distinctly alien way to me, a way i find very difficult to square with how my own brain works. like i guess its like is there worth in doing away with this labels first before doing away with the forces that cause people like me ("autistic") to suffer in ways non-autistics do not? if im making sense. like, how do we go forward. i value my ability to describe how different i am and how different i experience the world from most of the people i meet - is that compatible with antipsychiatry's end goal?

this is exactly what i mean when i say proponents of the neurodiversity paradigm do not want to give up their extremely monolithic understanding of psychiatrised people. please, produce your definition of 'the' autistic 'difference' that captures everyone who self ids with that label and no one who doesn't. then we can have a conversation about what we might lose if we dethrone such labels.

[kinzhae]

Hi hiiii! Okay so... I'm not quite sure if you accept like request and all but i enjoyed your vlog so much cause been craving for Gojo angst that hurts my heart and i love it 😭😭

And i have this idea... You know Toga Himiko right? So like i have this idea in mind where Gojo neglected the reader, like the bully fic you made? And so, in the end Gojo was like dyin (In his teens where he still didn't know RCT). Reader having the same power as Toga Himiko so yeah you know what happens next.

That episode ached my heart so much that i cried and i kinda wanna see it in Gojo x reader part. You don't have to make it just sayin my idea and all 😅

Omgg hello, you are actually the first person who requested to write something so ofc I will do it. I didnt continue watching MHA after season 2 so I might not capture Toga Himiko's quirk that well </3 but I still tried and hoping you will like it.

Note: it ended with a slight angst.

Past Wound That Will Never Change

The world had always been cruel to those who were different, and you learned that lesson early. Your cursed technique was rare, one that made people uneasy. By consuming the blood of others, you could take on their appearance and, to a degree, their abilities. It was powerful, yes, but it was also isolating. People whispered behind your back, called you a parasite, and avoided you like a curse waiting to manifest.

Gojo Satoru, of course, had been the worst of them all.

He wasn’t just cruel; he was relentless. With his unmatched abilities and natural charisma, he had no reason to think twice about how his words or actions might hurt you. To him, you were a joke, a walking anomaly he could poke fun at when life at Jujutsu High grew dull.

“You ever think about how creepy you are?” he’d say, his friends laughing along. “Like, do you just look at someone and think, ‘Wow, I wanna drink their blood’? That’s disgusting, man.”

The words stung every time. You tried to fight back, to pretend his insults didn’t matter, but he had a way of cutting deeper than anyone else. The more you tried to stand your ground, the more he mocked you.

“You’re not even a real sorcerer,” he said once, his voice dripping with disdain. “You just leech off of everyone else. What’s the point of keeping you around?”

No one defended you. Geto sometimes gave you a pitying glance, but even he didn’t dare go against Gojo. They were close friends after all. You were utterly alone, and every day felt like a battle you were losing.

It all came to a head during a mission gone wrong. You’d been sent out with Gojo and another student to exorcise a particularly nasty curse. Things had been going well until Gojo, confident as ever, underestimated the enemy. The curse turned its attention on you, nearly killing you in the process. You barely managed to survive, but when the dust settled, Gojo shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“You’re fine,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Stop being so dramatic.”

That was the moment something inside you broke. That night, you packed your things and left Jujutsu High without a word. If they thought you were a parasite, then so be it. You would survive on your own terms, far away from their judgmental eyes.

---

Years passed, and you became someone entirely different. The pain of your past hardened into a cold resolve. You used your cursed technique without restraint, earning a reputation as a rogue sorcerer. People feared you, and for the first time in your life, you felt powerful. You no longer cared about proving yourself to anyone. You lived by your own rules, taking what you needed and leaving destruction in your wake.

But fate had a twisted sense of humor.

You found him in the ruins of a cursed battlefield, slumped against a crumbling wall, his once-pristine uniform soaked with blood. Gojo Satoru, the untouchable, was dying.

He looked up at you with bleary eyes, his usual confidence replaced by something fragile.

“Figures,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Of all people… it had to be you.”

You stared at him, your emotions a tangled mess of anger, bitterness, and something you didn’t want to name. He looked so different now—vulnerable in a way you’d never imagined. For a brief moment, you considered leaving him there. It would be poetic, wouldn’t it? Letting him die alone, just like he’d left you to fend for yourself all those years ago.

But you couldn’t do it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said coldly, kneeling beside him. “I’m not doing this for you.

He didn’t respond, too weak to argue. His blood pooled around him, staining the ground a deep crimson. You bit into your hand, drawing your own blood, and then leaned down to press your lips to his wound. The metallic taste filled your mouth as your cursed technique activated, his power flooding into you.

It was overwhelming. For a brief moment, you were the strongest, the infinite possibilities of his Limitless technique unfurling in your mind. You used it to heal his wounds, channeling his power with a precision that surprised even you. When it was done, you pulled away, wiping your mouth as you staggered to your feet.

Gojo sat up slowly, testing his limbs. He looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“You saved me,” he said quietly.

“Don’t read into it,” you snapped. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

He frowned, guilt flickering across his face. “Why? After everything I—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “You don’t get to apologize. Not after what you did.”

He fell silent, his usual arrogance nowhere to be found. For once, he looked small, almost fragile.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was a fool back then. I didn’t—”

“Stop,” you said, your tone icy. “I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it. Just live with it, Gojo. Live with what you did.”

You turned and walked away, leaving him sitting there, his words hanging in the air. He didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t call after you. He simply watched as you disappeared into the distance, the weight of his guilt settling over him like a shroud.

---

Gojo recovered, but the encounter haunted him. He searched for you, hoping for a chance to make amends, but you were always one step ahead, always out of reach. The guilt of what he had done to you lingered, a constant reminder of his failures. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t fix what he had broken.

You, on the other hand, continued to live on your own terms. Saving him hadn’t changed anything. It hadn’t softened the bitterness in your heart or erased the scars he left behind. You didn’t forgive him, and you didn’t need to.

In the end, the past was a wound neither of you could heal. He was left to carry the weight of his guilt, while you carried the scars of his cruelty.

[adventuringblind]

Hi, I noticed (mainly bc u read a lot of your work) that you write a lot of dark/ self harm based/themed fics so I was wondering if you would be comfortable with writing a lestappen x reader with an Ed. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to so ofc feel free to ignore

(Your work is always very well written and I look forward to reading what you post next)

One for you and One for me

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst/hurt comfort

Summary: Nobody is immune to the toxicity of social media, Charles and Max help their girl through it

Warnings: HEAVY ED, toxic media, body dysmorphia, sexual acts are mentioned but nothing happens

Notes: You must be psychic because I you sent this while I'm struggling with my own ED. I hope this helps you as much as it did me! 😊

Masterlist

Social media is something that everyone seems to revolve around. In theory, it could be great. Getting to see photos of friends and family and updates from celebrities you wouldn't otherwise interact with.

But here's the catch: in practice, the entire thing falls apart. People are left with images of things that are unachievable. Photoshop and filters have become everyone's new best friends. People put only their best foot forward and try to look as perfect as possible.

And those who don't? The ones who are criticized? The ones who will never meet that expectation? They are left trying to swim to the surface of a never-ending ocean. Drowning under the weight never being enough.

So, they do what they can. Nothing can be that bad if it makes them feel better, right? What's one meal skipped every day to cut back on calories?

In her case, she'd cut it all out. The idea of perfection and control weigh heavy in the pit of her stomach. The one that is currently growling as she weighs herself for the fifth time that day alone.

It's addicting, really, the feeling she gets from having gone another hour without a meal. The elation of seeing the scale drop in number.

The media and fans had been all over her appearance after going public with Max and Charles. She'd tried to ignore, but there was a piece of her looking for an excuse to dive back into the habits of her teenage years.

Her mother said she never looked like she had an eating disorder. Her father only started compliment her on her appearance once she was significantly underweight.

Max and Charles had been there for the fall. Her habits finally catching up to her when she started working with Redbull. She didn't have the energy to keep up with the schedule and one day had simply collapsed.

She'd gotten better. Promised the two boys they would never be on the verge of losing her like that again.

Now here she is, breaking that promise over the triple header by not eating at all. She'd started slowly, but now she has a chance to speed things up before the two boys notice anything. Too busy to really pay attention to her weight.

Maybe it would've been better if they hadn't been caught eating together. The fans might have a little less leverage to use on her. Maybe if she wasn't wearing something more revealing to a party in Monaco then they wouldn't have noticed how she looks.

The number on the scale is far from perfect, but it'll do for now. She slips on her teamwear that is looser than it was a few days ago. A satisfied but tired smile plays on her lips as she walks out the door.

The paddock is busy prior to the race. cameras are everywhere and she does her best to avoid them. Thankful her job is away from the majority of people. The less the cameras see of her, the better. A small part of her wonders if it would simply be better to disappear or become invisible. Maybe if she's thin enough, she'll be invisible from the side.

The day seems to drag on. The race is good and ends with both Max and Charles on the podium. It's the last race of the triple header meaning they will want to celebrate properly tonight. Maybe they will compliment her more now that she's lost weight. There is a prominent gap in her thighs and maybe will even be light enough for them to carry. The though makes her swoon.

The cheery conversation in the car quickly turns to logistics. Plans for dinner are made and she claims to have eaten while finishing up her work. To hungry to wait any longer.

There is a hesitant pause. They like knowing she ate with visible proof. That being the reason they eat together or at least someone is there to tell she ate if asked. Even if it's a bite.

They don't mention it. Charles orders in while Max drags her out of ear shot. She assumes it's because he is pent up, nothing surprising after a race. But nothing happens and she is left mildly disappointed.

Max cups her face. "I'm sorry we've been so busy."

"That's not your fault."

"No, but-" Max looks hesitant. "We know you haven't been eating. You're exhausted and your clothes don't fit. We can feel your bones when we hold you at night." She looks at Max in horror. "We thought maybe if we just made sure you felt comfortable that you would come to us but it's bad again."

Charles puts hands on her hips. "We'll take it slow, like last time. But please, we love you too much to see you become a shell of yourself again."

They say in that embrace until there is a knock at the door. Max is quick to answer it. He comes back holding their dinner. An extra box sits on top. One she assumes is for her.

"We got you a small salad. Nothing massive, no dressing, just vegetables." Max sets it all out on the table. They keep up casual conversation, so she doesn't feel horribly uncomfortable. Until they notice she is just playing with her food.

"How about, we continue talking, but we take turns taking bites? If you manage three, we'll call it a night," suggests Charles. Goal setting was helpful last time around. One week she took one bite of every meal, the next was two, and so on.

She manages three bites. Each of her own followed by one of theirs.

They all clamber into bed afterwards. Exhaustion hits her hard.

No, it's not perfect or straightforward. Relapses happen but healing is full of ups and downs. But she has people who care and who love her for who she is, not what she looks like. They'd rather her be healthy then bringing herself to the brink of collapse. And she loves them enough to try her best which is all they can ask for.

[definitelynotshouting]

Hi I’m obsesseddddd with your hunger au and after reading the lore doc and the fic I have a couple questions if you don’t mind

Ok first off this isn’t really a question and more like a “huh wouldn’t that be fucked up” thought but uhhhh. So og grian was pretty much trapped in a box and constantly watched while the larva developed right. Did the watchers ever feed off him? Bc I imagine being trapped and just waiting to die wouldn’t be great for your emotional state. Or would they not since he is hosting the larva and that point so they can’t/wont feed on a host? Oh also you said that he made the deal to become a watcher while under duress. I imagine that duress could easily be heightened by some hungry watchers. And having your brain lightly fried would probably make you more susceptible to agreeing to a fucked up situation

And for my second question I was curious how aware the general populace/the hermits are of watchers?? Like are they a known thing and ppl just aren’t sure how they work or what. Because the rescue group had to puzzle out that grian was benefiting from their suffering in some way, but pearl seemed to have some idea of what grian was with the whole “eating our brains” bit so I’m curious what levels of knowledge they’re operating with here

Anyways thanks for reading my silly little thoughts on your amazing au!! It’s so fun I’m having such a good time with the horrible things happening

Im so glad you like the fic, anon!! :DD im always so touched when people tell me they enjoyed it enough to read the lore behind it-- gods ive gotta update that, there are a sizeable amount of newer asks i havent added to it yet, plus my beloved friend @/corvidaearts made a proper carrd for it on my birthday that i plan on replacing the google doc with!!! Just, uh, as soon as i add aforementioned posts dkcjsjdjfj

That would be super fucked up if they fed on him while he was trapped, OUGHHHH.... id say in canon probably not, because feeding off of one Player is really really dangerous for them, and Grian was now a host for their experiment to see if they could bring their population back up. If anything, nobody touched or interacted with him beyond the bare minimum it took to keep him safe from any potential respawns, and it was likely only the colony elders who even had direct access to him in the first place. THAT BEING SAID..... GODS THATS FUCKED UP I LOVE IT. And, well, i suppose one Watcher did feed on him.. which was Grian himself, as he emerged from his Player cocoon. Player!Grian's final moments of agony and terror were amplified to the max as his Watcher-self's very first meal, and that haunts Grian a lot late at night if he lets himself think about it

The duress he was placed under to become a host in the first place involved a significant amount of heightened emotional leverage though, thats for sure. One of these days i need to map out how exactly that went down, but i know that it involved an offer that was not actually an offer, several lies through omission, intimidation tactics that spanned the entirety of Evo in the first place, and using Grian's own fear-- both of them, and for his friends-- against him. Real fucked up situation all around 😔😔😔😔

General populace does not know much if anything about the Watchers!! The Watchers are, aside from this one colony, pretty much extinct; even before that, they relied quite a lot on camouflage and secrecy to keep their presence from being discovered, both by their prey and by the Seekers that hunted them.

Some very very old Players might know whispers of information-- rumors from the tail end of a game of telephone, as it were. And there are for sure a few individuals here and there who know of them due to personal experience (including the entire Evo crew, which was ofc a special case), but because Player information is not centralized in any capacity in this universe, the vast majority of Players have zero knowledge that Watchers even exist, let alone what they do and how they feed.

Pearl, with her previous knowledge and experience with Watchers and how they operated while involved with the Evo server, made some really good educated guesses about how Grian works and what's going on with him. And ofc everyone on Hermitcraft, plus all the lifers, knows that Grian at the very least can manipulate Player emotions to an extreme degree-- putting those context clues together, you can piece together quite a few connections. She doesn't have the full picture, but at this point in time she's basically figured out a good chunk of it. The rest will have to come from Grian himself >:]

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 5

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: domestic violence, physical abuse

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Daphne watched her patient across the table. He was bending over two flat boards, gouging out a shallow square in each of their centers with a chisel she'd borrowed from her youngest brother, Mikkos, claiming she needed it to fix a window. Mikkos, ever the dutiful sibling, had offered to fix the window for her, but she insisted she could do it herself, saying she didn't want to take him away from his regular carpenter work. It was such a bad lie that she feared Mikkos might turn up anyway, but it looked like he believed her.

Romulus was trying to make a wax tablet. It had all started the other day, when Daphne came back from her usual rounds in the village to find out her goat, Amalthea, had broken into the garden and was contentedly munching on some of the seedlings she'd just planted. Daphne had given Amalthea a stern talking-to and planned to raise the garden wall so the goats couldn't jump over it—she didn't have to worry about Midas, who was a good boy and knew the garden was off-limit—but what really worried her was that she didn't know what Amalthea had eaten exactly. Some of the medicinal plants were poisonous or at least harmful to a goat, and the poison could pass into Amalthea's milk, harming the kids as well.

"Don't you remember what you've planted?" Romulus asked, when he heard her scold Amalthea.

"Well—yes, usually," she stammered. "But I've been busy taking care of you so I wasn't paying attention." She ran an irritated hand through her hair. "Time like this, I wish I knew how to read, so I can label my plants and medicines."

Romulus stared at her. "You don't know how to read?"

Now it was her turn to stare at him. "Of course not. Around here, one doesn't need letters to be shepherds." The only person in the village who knew how to read and write was the chief, Master Kavos, and even then, only enough to write down thei villagers' names in the tax roll. Daphne had always wanted to learn, but she knew she shouldn't get ideas above herself. She had once been courted by a scribe in the nearby town of Adala, and when she suggested to him that she should like to learn to read, he had only laughed at her, thinking it was a joke.

Thankfully, Amalthea was none the worse for wear, but Daphne had a stressful day watching the goat for signs of poisoning or bloating. That evening, over their meal, Romulus suggested casually, "I can teach you to read, if you want."

"Why?" Daphne asked warily.

"It'll be something to do," he said with a careless shrug.

In the end, Daphne had agreed. She could see no harm in it, and she rather liked the idea of having neat rows of labeled jars and jugs, like the apothecary's shop in Adala she often visited. And Romulus was right, it would be something to do in the long hours when it was too hot to work outside. He was still pushing himself too hard with his exercises, and often Daphne had to remind him to go into the shades and rest or he would have a sunstroke. He struck her as a restless sort of person; no doubt he was tired of being cooped up inside. This would give them both something to fill their time.

So now he was making a wax tablet for their lessons. She could tell he was not used to woodworking, as he held the tool awkwardly and his chiseling was uneven, but he seemed determined to get it done. He frowned over the chisel, sweat dripping down his forehead, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. The expression contrasted with his usual scowl, giving him a rather childish look, and Daphne had to turn away to hide a grin.

She wondered why she kept him around for so long. It had been a month since she brought him back, half-dead, from the Balikh, and he had made a remarkable recovery. Perhaps not enough to walk all the way to Edessa, but certainly enough to leave on a cart or a wagon. Yet she kept putting off his departure, telling him—and herself—that something could happen to him on the road, that his wounds could open up again, that his fever could come back. She could never live with herself if she let her patient die from negligence. But other than professional pride, there was another reason she kept the soldier around, the same reason she'd saved him in the first place—for companionship.

In the years since she received the message that Galen was not coming back from Caledonia, and since she moved into the hut following her grandmother's death, Daphne had been on her own. Of course, the villagers were always around, but they never stayed for long. The only time Daphne had had a patient stay with her was when Ione, the little girl who lived on the next hill, broke her leg running down the hill after her father's goats. After Daphne had set the bone, the little girl had become so taken with Amalthea that she'd insisted on staying, and for the next three weeks, Daphne had had a rather chatty housemate who hobbled around, got underfoot, and made a mess of all her herbs and potions. Daphne had rather enjoyed it. Even now, whenever she had to leave the village for longer than a few days, she still entrusted the care of Amalthea and her kids to Ione.

It was hard being alone. It was the one thing that her grandmother, for all the wisdom she had imparted to Daphne, had failed to teach her. When she first moved into the hut, Daphne had thought she would enjoy it, after years of growing up with two younger brothers and never having a moment to herself. But the novelty had worn off quickly. Sometimes, on winter evenings, when dusk fell early over the hills, her own fire giving up little warmth, she would sit and watch the smoke from the huts down in the valley blend in with the gray clouds, feeling so lonely that she might even risk her father's wrath to come back to the village. But in the end, fear of her father always won out, and she remained in her hut, wondering how her grandmother had managed it all those years.

Now, it was a comfort to return to the hut after a long day to another person, who was waiting for her. It was a comfort to hear a voice other than her own and see another face across from the table during mealtimes. It was a comfort to fall asleep knowing there was another person just on the other side of the wall. A simple sort of comfort, perhaps, and it would not last, but she would take it for as long as she could.

One might say that an irascible, arrogant, and quarrelsome legionary did not make for a very good companion, but Daphne didn't mind. Had he been courteous and good-humored, had he asked for her help with politeness and accepted it gladly, it would have made her nervous, afraid that she would offend the noble patrician with her coarse peasant ways. His roughness put her at ease. It was simply that he, like most men, was used to having his every order followed and his every whim catered to. His undoubtedly high status only made it worse. She had had her fair share of men like him, men who insisted they were perfectly fine until the moment they tumbled over from pain. Patrician or plebeian, at the end of the day, they were all the same. She knew how to deal with them.

The only thing that bothered her was Romulus's reticence. After a month, she knew nothing about him except for his name, and that may not even be real. To all of her questions, he answered none and only gave questions of his own. He'd stopped making her taste his food and medicine, but she knew he still slept with his dagger under his pillow. Well, she couldn't blame him for being suspicious after having so narrowly escaped death. Who was she to judge anyway? She hadn't been exactly open with him either.

That day he walked around and got himself lost on the hillside, it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Galen. When she turned around and saw him sitting at the door with his back to her, dressed in Galen's old tunic, for a heart-stopping moment, she'd thought he was Galen. They had the same build, sturdy and broad-shouldered, the same dark curls and eyes. The difference was that Galen had been quick to jest and to laugh, while Romulus was always scowling. But for some reason, she felt shy about mentioning Galen to Romulus, and so she had kept those memories to herself.

After the boards had been chiseled out, Daphne melted some beeswax and poured it into the hollows, while Romulus fashioned two styli out of twigs, and the lessons began. Daphne took to it with an enthusiasm she didn't know she possessed, and soon learned to write her name, the names of her animals, and the common names of the medicinal plants in her garden. Romulus seemed to enjoy the lessons as well, and she often caught him watching her with a curious expression, without his usual wariness. When they tired of the writing and reading lessons, Romulus made another board, marked off a series of squares on it with his knife, and gathered a handful of pebbles from outside—half of them black and the other half white—and placed each of them on a square. It was a Roman game called latrunculi, or draughts, he said, and proceeded to teach Daphne to play. In this, she proved to be a quick learner as well. Once she'd grasped the rules, it only took her five games to beat Romulus. This brought on another scowl, while Daphne laughed at him for being a sore loser.

With such occupations, the long, hot days of early summer went by quickly. Romulus seemed calmer, though he remained wary, watchful of every little movement outside the hut. One afternoon, Daphne was coming in from the garden with some vegetables. She had just stepped through the door when an arm yanked her into a corner and a hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her half-formed scream. It took her a moment to realize it was Romulus, who was standing with his back against the wall. His eyes were enormous in the dimness of the hut, and sweat was pouring down his face. Daphne tried not to notice how tightly he was holding her, how his arm was circling her, pressing her back to his chest. He smelled of sweat and leather, and for a confused moment, she was reminded of evenings when she went to the edge of the pasture to meet Galen coming back with the goats. They had been courting then, though they had always known they would marry, so it wasn't as if Galen had to do anything to woo her. She would throw her arms around him and press her face into his neck, and he'd smelled just like this...

She twisted out of Romulus's arm and hissed through his fingers, "What in Hades are you doing?"

"Shh!" He held up his dagger, precariously close to her face. "There's a man coming up the path." His breath was hot against her ear.

"One of the villagers?"

"No. I've never seen him before. He looks shifty."

"Stop being so damned suspicious!" she snapped. "You haven't seen everybody from the village. Just go into the bedroom and let me see who it is."

Reluctantly, he lowered the knife and let her go. Once the bedroom door had closed behind him, Daphne picked up the vegetables that had fallen out of her basket and looked out the door to see who the mysterious visitor was.

Her stomach dropped. Staggering up the path was her father, Timon. His robe was disheveled—more disheveled than usual, his head bare, his face bruised. Each of his feet was having a very different idea of where it was going, and she could practically smell the wine on his breath from where she was.

Silently cursing, she went out to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Chaire to you too," said Timon, sounding friendly for once. "You're looking well, daughter."

Her guard was instantly up. Whenever her father was being nice, it was because he wanted something. She eyed his bruises and had a pretty good guess what it was he was after. She asked anyway. "What do you want?"

"Can't I just visit and see how you're doing?" He sat down by the front door and looked up at her with bleary eyes. "Your mother misses you. When was the last time you came to see us?"

"I just saw Mother the other day," she said coldly. She wished he would just get on with it and leave.

Timon peered into the hut. Daphne followed his gaze warily, hoping Romulus hadn't left the wax tablet or the latrunculi board lying around. She knew her father would come down on her with all the wrath of Zeus if he found a man living with her. There were two cups on the table, but thankfully, Timon didn't seem to notice.

"Looks like you're doing well," he said. "Lots of patients, lots of coins..."

"What coin? When have you ever seen any coin around here?"

"I don't need much." And there it was. She knew it had to come out sooner or later. "Just a few coins to tie me over." Always the same. If she had saved all the coins she'd given her father "to tie him over" throughout the years, she would've been rich by now.

Daphne sighed. "How much do you owe?"

"Ten drachmae," said Timon. Daphne groaned inwardly. Ten drachmae was a large sum even by the standard of a sizeable town, where a man could subsist on half a drachma a day; here in their village, where they lived by bartering and some had never seen so much as an obol, it was practically a fortune. "Those snakes at the nomad camp tricked me!" her father snarled. "They said it was just one game, for fun, and before I knew it, they've taken everything I got! It wasn't my fault!"

"It's never your fault, is it?" Daphne snapped. "Mother and Mikkos work their fingers to the bone, and Attikos sends home everything he can, but it's never enough for you, because you insist on falling in with every low-life and criminal you come across!"

"You're one to talk!" Timon stood up, and Daphne had to turn her face away from his wine-sour breath. "You'd never have this place if it wasn't for me! And here you are, living in the lap of luxury, while your family starves!"

Daphne grimaced. Her father's drunken insults were nothing new, but they never stopped grating. He made it sound like she was dining on roast mutton and fresh fish every night. "Go home," she said. "I have nothing for you."

"We'll see about that!" said her father. He stormed into the hut and started going through her herbs and potions, searching for where she might have hidden some money. Jars clattered to the ground. They didn't break on the soft earthen floor, but their contents spilled out, leaves and roots scattering everywhere. Daphne trembled in terror, not of her father's wrath, but of him opening her bedroom. If he burst upon the knife-wielding Romulus, it would be catastrophic.

"Stop it!" she shouted, trying to shove him outside.

"Perhaps I ought to take your goats," Timon said, staggering out the door. "Or that donkey. They should fetch a pretty sum."

"No!" Daphne went cold all over. Knowing her father, her animals would end up at the butcher's right away. She grabbed the back of Timon's robe, and he went sprawling on the ground.

"Is this how you treat your father, you ungrateful whore?" he slurred, scrambling to his feet.

"I will treat you as a father when you start acting like a father!" she shot back.

This earned her a backhanded slap across her face. Timon was so drunk that it didn't hurt much, yet Daphne could feel hot blood dripping down her cheek. Putting her fingers up, she realized the slap had caused the cut on her cheek to open again. She glared at her father. This was routine for him. Once he failed to appeal to her sense of filial duty, he would resort to violence. It had always been the same way in their family, even when she was a child. When one of them didn't do what he wanted, he would hit their mother or one of the children until they submitted to his will. Her grandmother had been the only one standing between them and Timon's beating, and it was only after she took on her grandmother's mantle that Daphne found the strength to start standing up to him. In fact, Daphne was surprised her father had made the trip up here himself. Usually, he would force her mother to go in his stead, knowing Daphne could never refuse her mother anything. Perhaps this time he had realized, and rightly so, that her mother's bruised and battered face would only infuriate Daphne and get him nowhere.

Daphne pressed a corner of her stole to her cheek. If there had only been herself, she would have fought harder to drive her father away. But she wasn't alone. No doubt Romulus had heard their struggle. She had to get her father out of the hut before Romulus became even more agitated and did something foolish.

Going back inside, she gathered up some amphorae of wine that she'd just picked up from the village, a payment for curing a shepherd of his toothache. She dumped them into a basket and pressed the lot into her father's arms. "Here," she said. "It's the only thing I have that is worth something. Take it. Treat your gambling pals to a drink and maybe they'll give you an extension on your debt. Or you can drown in it for all I care."

Timon raised his hand again, but this time Daphne had foreseen his intention and ducked. Losing his balance, her father had to hold on to a boulder to keep from falling over. It took the fight out of him, and he took the basket from her with a brightening face.

"You're a good girl, Daphne," he said as if nothing had happened. "I know you'll take care of us." He reached out to pat her cheek. She flinched away. "Speaking of which, have you given Izkur's proposal another thought? He's very keen, you know."

"No," she said, trying to keep calm. "I've told you, I'm not going to marry again, and certainly not to that old lecher. Go home now. And try to stay out of trouble this time," she added, knowing it wouldn't happen.

Daphne watched until his stumbling figure disappeared down the path, before returning to the hut. She was cleaning the blood off her face when Romulus emerged from the bedroom, still holding his dagger.

"That was your father?" he asked.

She sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"You've never mentioned him."

"What's there to mention?" she said with a shrug. "He's the terror of the village. If it wasn't for my grandmother, our whole family would've been driven out of this place years ago because of him."

"Is that why you insist that I hide?"

"Yes. I would not have him accuse me of misconduct." She didn't say that the secrecy was for her father's protection as much as hers and Romulus's. Then suddenly she realized what she was implying by "misconduct", and her cheeks grew hot even as the pain from the cut subsided. Romulus didn't seem to notice.

"What did he mean when he said you wouldn't have this place if it wasn't for him?" he continued.

Daphne wrung out the bloody cloth and hung it up. "This was my grandmother's place," she explained. "She left it to me on her deathbed, even though I can't inherit. My father is her only son, so it should've gone to him. But I convinced him to let me stay here and continue my grandmother's work."

Romulus was quiet for a moment. "I have some money," he said. "You could've given it to him."

"I'll not touch your money!" She had seen the pouch on his belt since the first day and heard the clink of coins inside it, but had refused to even open it on principle. Then she added, in a softer voice, so he wouldn't think her ungrateful. "Besides, it wouldn't be enough. It would never be enough for my father."

Romulus looked at her strangely. She turned away, not wanting him to see the bruise forming on her cheek, and started gathering up the spilled jars.

"My father—" Romulus began.

Daphne turned back to him with interest, for this was the first time he had ever mentioned anything relating to his personal life. Only whatever it was he had to say seemed stuck in his throat. She waited, but he closed his mouth again. With a sigh, Daphne returned her attention to the jars.

Without another word, Romulus put the dagger away, got down on his knees, and helped her.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, as he handed her a jar.

Her smile seemed to startle him. And then, slowly, hesitantly, a corner of his mouth lifted in return. It was the first smile she'd ever seen from him, and brief though it was, it still lit up his face and wiped away his scowl. It made him look younger and friendlier, and Daphne no longer wondered why she kept him around.

Chapter 6

As you may know, in the "Gladiator II" script, there is a deleted line that reveals Geta and Caracalla's father was abusive. While this has no basis in history (same as much of the movie), it does align nicely with what I already had written about Daphne's own abusive father, so I had to add a little moment between Daphne and Geta as a nod to that. I'd like to think that Geta's childhood trauma made him more sympathetic toward Daphne, though he may not be ready to admit that yet.

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

[bellewintersroe]

okay i'm glad! then i'm sending this in if you ever get back in a BoB mood, but no pressure :)

can i request headcanons on how some of them would react (i was thinking mainly Liebgott, Roe and Speirs, but absolutely feel free to add anyone you want too like Luz or Malarkey) if the Easy company gets dispatched in a town near the sea/has to sleep in a beach or similar, and the sweet and kind nurse that is always dispatched with the second battalion (who everyone is crushing on ofc hahaha) as soon as all the high ranks are gone just, takes off her uniform (so she is like in her bra and underwear) and just bolts it towards the sea, calling for the others to join her and play around in the water, because she just loves the sea that much?

i just thought something fun and light could be cute, since the boys definitely need some fun time :)🫶🏻

heyyyy omg so sorry it’s taken so long to reply but thank you thank you thank you for your request! I love this idea sm!! I have altered it slightly to make it more realistic (don’t ask why cos I bend the rules all the time) but I hope these head cannons are okay!!! &lt;3 <3 <3 <3

Band of Brothers x Nurse!Reader Headcannons

General HC’s for 2nd battalion + some more men reacting to their well loved nurse having some fun in the water.

So first let me set the scene, you’ve all just been told you’re being shipped back off to the pacific and morale has somewhat dropped again.

theres so much anxiety snd tension in the air that nobody really can unwind, so after one particularly gruelling training session, 2nd battalions nurse decides to have a little fun…

It’s a boiling hot day in Austria, the lake looks so inviting, and she’s such a sweetheart she just wants to boost morale. All the men absolutely adore her, if they don’t have a crush on her they find her endearing and a comfort to them.

“fuck it.” She mutters, stripping off her uniform as she runs closer to the pier, dropping each piece of clothing behind her.

One by one all the men’s heads turn and then suddenly begin whooping and whistling in excitement. Joe Liebgott:

Stunned to see you stripping off, in fact he remains frozen with his jaw dropped for a few moments. He’s so used to seeing you all covered up and oh my god boobs.

“Close your trap, Joe, you’re trapping flies.”

wouldn’t take much convincing to get in, I think he’d be super playful with you, splashing you and dunking you.

deffo splashes you a little too much, but when you’d jump on his back and he feels the press of your boobs against his bare back- uhhhh his brain turns to mush.

“It’s so nice, isn't it Joe?”

“Uh- yeah, so nice…” deffo gets a boner.

Eugene Roe:

Maybe a lil different scenario, I feel like if there was a group of you he’d probably sit on the side watching and laughing in amusement.

he’d watch you strip off and immediately avert his eyes out of respect but ohmygodogogososo he’s blushing- he hasn’t seen a woman like that for years.

you’re already super close, so to be able to have downtime together creates something more… intimate.

if you’d jump in at the end of the day, the sun setting when it’s just the two of you I don’t think it would take much convincing to for him to get in the water.

you’d float further back from the surface with a smirk as he undressed, jumping in and purposefully splashing you.

would be a little more shy, especially if there’s more men around, but the second you joke about how he might need to give you cpr and the kiss of life he’s smirking and acting all cool and omg.

his hands would snake lower and lower down onto your butt and everybody would be none the wiser around you guys if there was others there.

who knew Roe could be such a flirt?

Ron Speirs:

Now this guy being your literal superior probably wouldn’t linger around to see you, 2nd battalions own nurse, strip off to go for a swim whilst all the horny men giggle like children from the land.

he’d deffo know he had to be more respectful, but let’s change the time a little, it’s just after the German army surrendered, you’re both wasted.

Rob asks you like ‘so what were you doing in the water the other day?’

You’d tell him in return you were just having some fun and he should’ve tried it. Ron, in a celebratory mood, and captivated by how fucking beautiful you are just thinks ‘fuck it’ and makes the decision to go on a ‘walk’.

You end up pushing each other into the water.

for a moment you’re probs shocked that this is literally Captain Speirs you’re swimming with, but things get… heated and there’s no time to think about being intimidated.

you’d deffo probs have the hottest, spontaneous sex with him in the water lmaooo.

George Luz:

You just know this man would be the first one to jump in with you OMG.

he’d be so excited like finally, somebody’s just as fun as he is…

Probs like that kid on holiday that takes it too far and dunks you to the point you’re so out of breath.

I feel like you two would physically play fight to playfully drowning each other. Would be chaos central and anybody who tried to come near you would get a face-full of water.

Don’t be surprised if you wake up the next day with bruises.

kinda sweet tho, you’d lay on the beach together the same night and he’d be all sweet, apologising and checking he didn’t take it too far?

Don Malarkey:

Everybody knows Don needs this time to unwind and just have some fun.

for the first time in months he feels more like himself, the two of you already have a very close bond so it makes you both so mutually happy to the see the other so care free.

I think he’d be laughing like crazy, probably throwing you off the dock and then jumping in after you, cos even tho he’s playing around he doesn’t want to be too rough with you.

would happily shove any of the other men in the water so that the two of you are left standing on the land together.

When he see’s you in your wet bikini oh my godddd- his brain turns to mush and he practically avoids even making eye contact with you he’s that nervous.

when you sit on his lap later that evening he’s done for.

he’s a little stunned cos you’re always so sweet and innocent… but it feels like a dream come true for Malarkey.