#that i can usually remember if i like or dislike it though

[soxcietyy]

Trouble

Yuta x reader 18+

forbidden romance, enemy’s to lovers

You are now an instructor at Jujutsu tech because of your protective older brother Megumi. He’s seen your bad luck with romance so he sets one rule in place. "No dating sorcerers, especially the ones who are heads of clans." Sounded easy enough until one comes into your class. Yuta Okkotsu.

Part 2

Hours pass, and Yuta slowly regains consciousness, his eyelids fluttering open. He glances around the room, confused, before his gaze settles on you sitting next to him. His eyes suddenly falling on you.

When they did his eyes grew wide but suddenly relaxed. He must of remember what had happened.

"You're really taking this caretaker role seriously, huh?" He tries to wiggle his fingers but still feels no response. "How long until I'm moving again?"

"Couple hours."

He stares at you for a real response.

"Maybe 8 hours…"

His eyebrows furrow slightly, his frustration clear.

"Eight hours?! You expect me to lie here like a invalid for eight more hours?!" He tries to sit up but his body remains unresponsive. "This is torture..."

"Shouldn’t have underestimated me Yuta." You point at his chest.

He glares at you as your finger touches his chest. Who knows what he would have done if he wernt paralyzed. You guys had a mutual dislike for each other so you wernt going to be surprised if he gets you back later on.

"Right, maybe next time no weapons and then we’ll see who is the better one." Yuta smiles.

You shrug and begin your walk to the bathroom. You pull out a few things from a closet and bring it back to the room where Yuta was resting.

"I need to get you out of here before my brother shows up." You say as you open a bottle. You put the liquid onto a Cotten ball and wipe it of a cut he has on his cheek.

You watch as he scrunches his face from the sudden stinging. Surprisingly he didn’t complain about the pain. You would have done this earlier but you didn’t want to wake him up from his sleep.

"You have a brother?" He asks.

You looked at him shocked. Megumi had asked him to help with funding your class. He didn’t tell him you guys were related. Which was weird…

"Yes I do. He’s very overprotective and isn’t fond of men the men in introduce him to or the ones I bring to my home."

You doubted he would show up today though. He was very busy with his duties that he usually only called one a month to check up on you. What was the chances of him showing up today?

"Hungry?" You ask him.

"Well, if you insist on winning my affection through food, better make it delicious." He smirks.

You roll your eyes at his response but decide to be nice to him since you manage to get him into this predicament.

"Can you make curry? And a side of tonkatsu. Crispy breaded pork cutlet. Don't forget the miso soup too. And maybe some gyoza on the side." He says with a straight face.

You let out a laugh. "Do I look like your personal chef? Not like you could afford one anyways. You’re lucky if you even get noodles from the convenient store."

His brow raises at what you just said. He didn’t bother to say anything else but decided to close his eyes.

You sigh before getting up to the kitchen. You’re only making it because this is your fault. After today no more being nice, no more being pushed around. This was only a one time thing and then you ain’t have to see him around anymore. You just needed to deal with him until the poison ware’s off.

After a few hours you come into the room with a tray full of food. When you walked in he was resting peacefully with the sun shinning on him. He almost looked like a nice guy.

"Wake up, lunch is here." You say placing it on his lap.

He glances up at you, a hint of frustration mingled with appreciation in his eyes. "Yep, still paralyzed. So... unless you want me starving amidst this feast, you might have to help." Despite the inconvenience, a playful smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

You take a seat next to him on your bed. Reaching over him you grab the spoon and scoop up a full spoon of curry. You lift it up towards him but quickly redirects it into your mouth.

He watches in disbelief as you eat the bite meant for him, his eyes wide and slightly hurt. "Hey! You’re here to feed me not yourself."

You laugh and got another spoonful of food for him this time. He chews slowly, savoring the rich flavor before swallowing. "It's really good..." He admits reluctantly, his gaze flicking between your face and the spoon in your hand.

You kept on feeding him until the bowls of food were cleaned off. He mentioned being full a while ago but you didn’t cook all of this for it to just be discarded at the end.

You gently wipe his face with the napkin, Yuta blushes slightly, unused to such intimate gestures. He watches you with a curious gaze. You ignored him and pulled your hand away once you finished cleaning his mouth.

You quickly pick everything up and put it on the tray. Removing it from his lap and taking it to the dinning table. You wernt sure what you were supposed to do now. It’s not like he would fall asleep anytime soon.

As you thought about something to do you hear a loud knock startling you. You quickly stand and face the door to see a shadow standing there.

You didn’t invite anyone over, nor would anyone find voluntarily unless…

"Who is it?" You yell.

You wait for a few second until you heard a loud sigh from the other side of the door.

"It’s me, now open the door."

You recognized the voice anywhere. It was your one and only brother Megumi.

You run to your room and reach for the handle. Yuta looked at you confused but you had no time to explain, you slam the door shut and run to the front door to see him standing inside already.

"What took you so long?" He asks.

"I uh, was ironing my slacks! Didn’t want to leave flat iron out like that. Anyways what brings you here?! Arnt you busy?! Since you know, you’re the head of the Zenin clan?!" You say.

He gives you a small smile, "I was just nervous for you. It’s your first day and all."

"No need to worry Megumi it went by smoothly." You grab his arm and direct him towards the exit.

You had to get him to leave immediately. If Yuta somehow managed to leave the room these two boys would meet each other and you would never hear the end of it.

"That’s not what I heard." He gives you a hard look.

Uh oh what did he hear? Did one of the workers see you dragging a boy home? You knew you should have been more careful. These women have nothing better to do than gossip around.

"What are you talking about?" You ask nervously.

Megumi walked away from you towards the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out some dumplings you were saving for later. Normally you would of snatched them out of his hand but maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do right now.

"You got into a fight."

You stared at him stunned. You didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or still be scared. He knew about Yuta but not that he was currently 20ft away.

You didn’t say anything scared that something might slip out. Images you watched him warm the dumpling up and how he walk to the pantry to pull out a sauce.

"With Yuta Okkotsu, do you know who he is? he-"

"He’s the one who funded my class I know already and it was a mistake. Not really." You mumbled the last part under your breath.

"He’s more than just that actually." Megumi sighs and takes a dumpling. He blows on it to cool it down before taking a bite out of it.

"I actually don’t care who that asshole is." You sit next to your brother.

Your stomach rumbled as you watched him eat. Right you haven’t gotten to eat all day because your busy playing caretaker. You were planning on eating before your brother had shown up though.

You look down and see that your brother pushed the plate towards you. You couldn’t help but look at him with a guilty expression. He wanted you to not involved with sorcerers but here you are betraying him.

Were you though? There was nothing romantic going on. You were just paying for what happened.

You take the chopsticks from his hand and took a dumpling. It was the best thing you’ve eaten all day.

"Before I go, I wanted to ask one more thing." He says standing up.

You were too busy eating to ask him what it was but there was no need. He asked the question immediately not giving you time to swallow the food in your mouth.

"Who else is here?"

You froze. Eyes slowly averting to meet your brother’s gaze.

How the hell dod he know?!

"How could it be possible for you to be hungry when I see a tray full of empty dishes on the counter? Not only that but two pairs of shoes in the entrance, one clearly belonging to a male."

You curse yourself for being so stupid.

"Megumi, please don’t embarrass in front of him. I know that you dragged me here to get away from men and romance for a bit but I couldn’t help it. I met him when I stopped by a breakfast bar. It was just meant to be." You had no idea what you were saying.

He glared at you before turning around and walking to the door. He didn’t bother looking back at you as you called out his name.

He quickly slipped his shoes on and kicked Yutas shoes to the side.

It wasn’t long before he was out of your sight.

"Fuck" you run your hands over your face.

What now? He was clearly mad about the situation. He would have been furious if he found out he wasn’t a normal person.

He couldn’t be mad forever. You just had to give him time.

"I can’t believe it. Your Megumis little sister."

You turn around so quickly that you almost fell. That voice… there’s no way it’s-

"Yuta, how? What?!" You looked at him confused.

"I see it though, you guys have the same facial features and expressions." He steps closer and cups your face in his big hands.

How was he here right now?! He should be incapable of doing any movements.

"My body is pretty good at flushing out toxins. Not saying that they don’t work but it takes half the time for me to get over the symptoms. Now what here you saying? Something about us meeting being meant to be?"

You slap his hands away from you and walked passed him. He didn’t seem hurt by it seeing he had a smirk on his face.

"I was just saying things so he would leave. Me and you? Pft don’t make me laugh." You slide back into your seat to finish the dumplings on the table.

Yuta followed right behind you. Watching your every move. If he was feeling fine he should leave soon before your bother decides to come back.

"What’s wrong with us being a thing?" He steps closer and puts his hand on the back of your chair.

You don’t bother to look at him, instead you put your full attention to the food in front of you. "I’m not allowed to date sorcerers." You state.

"Is that right?" You hear a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

"I also don’t date assholes." You smile at him.

Yuta puts his other hand on the table. Trapping you into your seat. He was so close you could practically smell his cologne. Tobacco with a hint of wood.

A smirk forms on his lips, finding your rejection amusing rather than offensive "Strong words from someone who hasn't even given me a chance. You know what your problem is? You're too used to being treated like a precious doll. Let me guess - your brother wrapped you in cotton wool, right?"

His hand finds a place to rest on your thigh making you shudder. You guys were bickering not too long ago so what changed?

"I thought we had a mutual disdain for each other." You look at him trying to figure out if this was some sort of sick joke

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair "I don't know, maybe it's because you're siting there, looking at me like you hate my guts, when all I can think about is proving to you that I'm not as bad as you think I am."

"so how are you going to prove that your not a bad person?"

Without warning, he reaches out and takes your hand, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle "By starting over. I wasn’t so nice when we met today but after all of this… I see your not such a bad person after all. your a really kind person and it’s hard to find someone like that in the Jujutsu world."

He sighs fusterated," what I’m trying to say is that I want you to get to know the better me. the kind person I was before I became…" He stops talking and looks at you with a small smile.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bad person. Maybe he just needed someone by his side? You wernt sure if you were going to regret this. Dating someone you hardly knew. You just met him today too! But he’s somehow different.

"Fine, let’s start over."

Smiles genuinely, his eyes lighting up with relief and a hint of excitement "Good." He drops your hand but stays close, his tone softer now, "So, since we're starting over, let me ask you this - do you always cook and let strangers into your house?"

@lysaray

[kerosene-saint]

my bad memory effects me in such weird ways.

[nightingale-prompts]

God's TV- DC x DP prompt

Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.

So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.

Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.

It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.

No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.

It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.

A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.

Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.

"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.

While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.

Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.

"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.

"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.

Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.

"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.

Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.

Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.

"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.

"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.

"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.

The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.

It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.

Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.

"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.

"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.

"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.

"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.

"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."

"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.

"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."

"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"

"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.

"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.

"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to their s/o wearing parfum

As usual, if you'd like to read more of my work, I have an ongoing Arcane fanfiction, Everytime It Rains (based on the alternative timeline). Click here! to read it. As for this headcanon, I had run out of my perfume stash and just restocked with Scandal, Black Opium, Honey Aoud, and Bianco Latte (all sweet with vanilla notes). So, this headcanon is my way of channeling the euphoria of my perfume obsession.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 |

Jayce:

He’s not overly sensitive to perfumes. If you spray it while in the same room as him, he doesn’t feel the need to leave because he can’t breathe.

For this very reason, it always takes him a little while—not to notice it, but to figure out where it’s coming from.

The sweeter the scent, the more likely his first assumption is that you’ve bought or baked something sweet while he wasn’t around.

When you laugh and tell him there are no sweets and it’s your new perfume, he’s a little embarrassed but in a sweet, endearing way.

He’ll hug you, press his nose into the crook of your neck, and take in as much of the scent as he can to memorize it.

He doesn’t have issues with any scent. Sweeter ones make him sniff you more often because they make his mouth water, while spicier, “evening” notes are something he enjoys when you’re resting against him.ù

Viktor:

He’s very sensitive to perfumes; freshly sprayed scents give him headaches and make him feel short of breath.

This is probably a lingering effect from Zaun—his body reacts viscerally the moment the air isn’t clean and well-oxygenated.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it. You just need to let the alcohol component fade a bit before getting close to him, or at least spray it in another room.

He’s a bit more reserved than others; he’ll sniff it from your wrist while holding it lightly.

“Mh… yes, I’ve always dreamed of being in a relationship with a pastry shop.”

“You mean a pastry chef.”

“No, I know what I said.”

Ekko:

This man is a truffle dog; he notices the moment you arrive with a different scent.

His talent is playing it cool, becoming flirtier, and acting like a caricature of a gentleman trying to court you.

He prefers spicier scents to sweeter ones. If you wear something with vanilla notes, he’ll tease you, saying you smell like “the cake served by a Piltie’s servants,” but he doesn’t actually dislike it.

If a mission is particularly bad or he has a bad feeling about the day, he’ll ask you to spray some of your perfume on a handkerchief he keeps in his pocket, so he can hold on to your scent and feel closer to you.

Vander:

You could spray it directly into his nose, and he couldn’t care less. With the bar, he’s used to strong smells from cleaning products, spirits, and late-night disasters.

The alcohol in perfumes doesn’t bother him.

The downside is that he doesn’t notice it right away—he just doesn’t pay attention to it.

He generally tries to give you his full attention, but these little details sometimes slip past him. When you point it out, he’ll immediately try to make up for it if he remembers noticing something different in the air that day.

He’ll sniff it from your neck, slowly moving downward, justifying it as “trying to see how it blends with your natural scent.”

Silco (old man):

He prefers bold perfumes with character, like amber or woody scents, and finds excessively sweet ones rather childish.

He won’t hesitate to share this opinion in front of you.

He’s the kind of man who enjoys tobacco, wears Acqua di Giò, drinks warm whiskey—in short, he favors bitter and spicy notes.

But that won’t stop him from quickly growing accustomed to the scent he initially disliked so much, the one that makes you recognizable even as you ascend the stairs.

He’ll look for something similar or with complementary notes to gift you himself, though he’ll never admit that he’s come to appreciate it.

Silco (young man):

It’s rare for there to be an occasion to wear perfume, which is why the same evening you show up at the bar wearing it, he notices immediately.

He doesn’t have a particular preference for perfumes. But his love language is sarcasm, so regardless, he’ll make an ironic (but not mean) comment before telling you it suits you.

When you’re away, he’ll look for a piece of your clothing with the strongest scent to sleep with so he can feel close to you. When he’s the one far away, he’ll ask you to give him something, anything, with a bit of your scent on it.

He won’t sniff you in public—only when you’re alone, in private.

Jinx:

She loves sweet scents and hates bitter or overly amber ones.

“You smell like a pastry.”

The sweeter the perfume, the more likely you’ll catch her sniffing you or your things, just a moment before she clutches her stomach, whining about craving chocolate, caramel, or something sweet.

She’ll ask for a spritz of your perfume too, so she can smell as if “she just walked out of a bakery.” too

She prefers when you spray it in her hideout or in one of her rooms, so it clings to things and improves the overall smell.

Vi:

She doesn’t notice it right away because it’s not the sort of thing she pays attention to.

On one hand, she doesn’t love perfumes or anything that covers up natural scents. She prefers your smell—your skin’s scent—the one that drives her wild.

On the other hand, perfume is a fancy thing that hasn’t been much of a reality in her life, except for the cologne Vander used to wear.

Which was suffocating because he always overdid it.

She prefers spicier scents over sweet ones but doesn’t dislike anything.

She’ll kiss your hand and offer her arm, mimicking a fancy Piltover couple, babbling nonsense about non-existent upcoming galas and the finest shoe polish brands.

Caitlyn:

“How does she react?” When? When she’s accompanying you to buy it?

If you’re torn between more than one perfume, she’ll buy you the other without letting you know.

She notices immediately when you wear it, smiles at you, lifts your face, and kisses you with the unspoken understanding that this small indulgence is your personal little secret.

Those days tend to heat up quickly, often ending on the bed before you even realize it.

For the most important evenings, she’ll suggest which one you should wear.

Mel:

She hates overly sweet perfumes, finding them suffocating and cloying.

She doesn’t overdo her own perfume either, spraying twice into the air and walking through the mist so it’s not too strong or unnatural.

She prefers it once it’s already faded, so she can still breathe when she kisses you.

Ultimately, she’ll grow accustomed to whatever you wear. Sure, she’d prefer a citrusy or more floral scent, but as long as it’s on you, anything is acceptable.

Sevika:

She prefers none at all. She likes the natural scent of skin, whether it’s faint or strong.

She finds perfumes draw too much attention.

She’d never tell you this outright, though. However, if your perfume is too sweet, she’ll tease you, saying she didn’t realize she was dating a brioche. If it’s too strong and bitter, she’ll joke that you’re giving her PTSD and making her feel like she’s at work.

She doesn’t mind when you wear it on nights out together, because if someone notices the scent and turns around, they’ll see you’re with her.

[bunni-v1]

Thoughts on a threesome with Lighter and Harumasa

MDNI!!

Tw: NSFW; VERYYYY OOC lol; double penetration in one hole (only mentioned at the end lol); Rough sex; Fem! Reader; unedited and written with a serious fucking migraine like my god

I’m so fucking sick today but I had an idea so… imagineeeeee with me if you will…

You and Lighter are walking around New Eirdu, picking things up for the girls, running errands, usual shit. It’s a nice little routine thing the two of you have. He gets his job done and gets to spend time with you, win win!

He turns around for one second — literally one second just looking at some flowers (for you, btw) — and when he turns back around your attention is occupied. Not only is it occupied, but it’s taken by Asaba Harumasa. Sweet talking, ever flirty Asaba Harumasa.

He’s not a bad guy, honestly, Lighter doesn’t dislike him. You’d mentioned once or twice how you knew the guy. Some kinda old fuck buddy, it wasn’t anything Lighter cared about too much. You were his partner after all, it would be stupid not to trust you.

Him, though, Lighter didn’t trust him one bit. Not with the subtle touches and the unnecessary flirty comments. He watches you two veryyyy carefully, taking it all in until he can’t take it anymore and he has to pull you into his side.

“Oh! Lighter, fancy seeing you here~” Harumasa purrs in such a sickeningly sweet tone.

He makes it very clear that you and he are and item, but that only seems to egg Haru on further… His little comments getting more and more bold, pointed and intentional in riling him up. You’re stuck in the middle of an ego war that you can’t break up (and have no idea why it’s happening).

Then, somehow, the conversation is steered toward your sex life. No one is really sure how or why, but Harumasa and Lighter are having a literal dick measuring contest in front of you when Harumasa suggests that they should “Find out who you like better.”

Anddd that’s how you ended up with Lighter pounding into your sopping cunt from behind and Harumasa fucking your throat like it was the end of the world. Their little competition forgotten in favor of making you squirm beneath them <3

You’d cum at least four times now and they seemed determined to make a fifth. They alternate what their hands are doing occasionally. Sometimes Harumasa is pulling at your hair, other times Lighter’s squeezing your tits in his hands. Regardless, not an inch of you is left untouched by either of them.

Harumasa pulls out from your throat, and in your fucked out state you try follow him only for Lighter to tug you back by your hair. You don’t even try to fight it when he manhandles you into a sitting position on his lap.

Your pussy is literally drooling down both of your thighs, and Lighter scoops some of it up and tastes it. Harumasa smiles at the sight, seemingly quite satisfied with himself, “Can I have a taste?”

You expect Lighter to maybe let him eat you out, or even just pick up some with his own fingers. Instead he pulls Harumasa forward and kisses him. You can only watch with big empty dazed eyes as they do so. You swear you hear Harumasa moan, but just as you’re getting to enjoy it, they seem to remember you’re there again.

“Feeling left out, baby?” Lighter hums as his fingers find your clit, rubbing fast circles.

Harumasa pushes your legs open, the two of them working to readjust you so your legs are thrown atop Lighters, Haru sliding himself between them. “I think she is, poor thing…”

You most certainly were not, but you weren’t going to say that. Lighter slides out of you, and you literally cry out at the loss of him. “Aww, I told ya she likes it. Look at her cryin’.”

Harumasa laughs dryly, tapping his member against Lighter still moving fingers, “Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you feel more secure.”

You whine at their arguing and they both coo back at you like you’re some kind of pet. They were plotting something sinister, you could feel it in the way Lighter kept pressing the tip of his dick against your ass. Certainly they didn’t expect you to take them both at the same time.

“There’s only one good way to determine who’s the best, right?” Harumasa purrs, nudging Lighter out of the way so he could properly tease your cunt.

“Mhm…” Lighter hums, “You can take both of us at once, right?”

Fuck.

[harrysfolklore]

how is piastri sis feeling with this being carlos last ferrari race? cuz i’m feeling emotional

AHHH CARLOS' LAST RACE WITH FERRARI 🥺 im so emo but also really really proud of him. and so is our girl piastri sis. enjoy!

READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

The motorhome is quiet, the usual post-race bustle muted by the weight of finality. Carlos sits on the couch, still in his race suit with the Ferrari logo that's no longer his, staring at nothing. You watch him from the doorway, heart aching at the emotion written across his face.

"I can hear you thinking from here," he says softly, not looking up.

You move to sit beside him, taking his hand. His fingers automatically intertwine with yours, a habit now.

"I keep thinking about what I said," your voice is barely a whisper. "At the beginning of the season. About hoping you wouldn't find a seat."

"Mi amor-"

"No, let me finish," you squeeze his hand. "Seeing you now, knowing how much the Ferrari exit hurt... I was so cruel. So insensitive. Just because I was angry about Oscar-"

"You apologized months ago," he turns to face you, eyes soft. "Went we grabbed sushi and said you were sorry for being harsh."

"I know, but..." you touch his face. "Watching you take that last lap today, seeing how emotional you were on team radio... it just hit me again how horrible those words were. How much you were already hurting when I said them."

He catches your hand, kissing your palm. "I wasn't exactly kind to you either back then. Or to Oscar on track."

"Still-"

"No, listen," he pulls you closer. "That comment? It led to our first real conversation. When you apologized, I knew something had shifted. And now look at us."

You lean into him, remembering how that sushi outing led to him kissing you after, and changing everything forever.

"Besides," he continues with a small smile, "I did find a seat. Williams is excited to have me. And more importantly..." he kisses your forehead, "I found you."

"Smooth little bitch," you murmur against his chest.

"It's true though," his voice gets serious. "Leaving Ferrari hurts, yes. But this year? Getting to know you, falling in love with you? It's worth every painful moment."

"Even when I was being a protective sister?"

"Even then," he chuckles. "Though I prefer when you're being a protective girlfriend now."

You look up at him. "I'm so proud of how you handled everything this year. The Ferrari news, the criticism, the uncertainty... you stayed professional through it all."

"Had someone pretty amazing supporting me," he pulls you into his lap. "Someone who went from hating me to loving me."

"I never really hated you," you protest. "I just... strongly disliked your on-track decisions."

He laughs properly then, the sound chasing away some of the melancholy. "And now?"

"Now I strongly like everything about you," you kiss him softly. "Even your questionable racing moves."

"Hey!"

"Kidding," you stroke his cheek. "I'm so excited to see you at Williams. They're lucky to have you."

He holds you tighter. "Will you wear their merch next year?"

"Of course. But I'm keeping one Ferrari shirt."

"Oh?"

"Your race-worn one from today," you smile. "For memories."

His eyes get emotional again. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," you rest your forehead against his. "Ferrari chapter is closing, but we're just getting started."

He kisses you deeply, pouring everything he can't say into it.

Later, Oscar sends a photo to the group chat Of Carlos's last Ferrari lap with you watching from the garage, wearing his team shirt.

"From enemies to this. Still wild."

Carlos saves it immediately because sometimes the best endings lead to better beginnings. And sometimes "I hope you don't find a seat" turns into "I hope you never leave my side"

[lumi077]

X-Men HCs

A/N: my hyperfixations are not very hyperfixating rn. literally they’re changing so fast. But take some nice little relationship headcanons, and the next Chapter of Winters’ Servants is coming soon!!

Characters included: Logan (Wolverine), Scott (Cyclops), Kurt (NightCrawler), Jean

Warnings: potential OOC, nothing else really. kept it nice and light.

Logan (Wolverine):

Logan would absolutely, if you use them, stretch out your new hairbands for you. If you express that you dislike using them unless stretched, he’ll offer to wear them on his wrists for a day or two till they’re stretched to your liking. It could be the most girly hair ties and he’ll proudly wear three on each wrist. When asked, he’ll happily tell them “Just stretchin ‘em for my woman/man/partner”

Scary dog privileges? Scary dog privileges. He adores making you feel safe enough to wear the most skin revealing or feminine clothing. You want to wear something revealing/very feminine but tell him you're scared? He’ll instantly assure you and tell you to wear anything you want. If someone says something, he won’t hesitate to shut them up before you even hear.

There’s going to be a point in your relationship that you’ll realize he absolutely doesn’t care about any of the gross stuff you do. Burp, Fart, don’t shave? He really doesn’t care in the least bit. Definitely the boyfriend that will go, unphased, into the bathroom while you're on the toilet and brush his teeth or shower without a care in the world. If you are comfortable that is, and he secretly preens when he realizes that you're comfy enough to do that stuff around him lol.

I wholeheartedly believe that when he realizes he wants you to be his forever partner, he’ll gift you his dog tags. His past is very personal to him, because he could never remember it for a good part of it. His dog tags are only second to him getting down on one knee. 

Speaking of getting down on one knee, sorry for all the people who want it to be a surprise, but he won’t make a big deal and will tell you about his plans beforehand. No surprise engagement, and no public one. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he wants to make sure you’re ready and want it too. He doesn’t put much on marriage because it doesn’t change much, and doesn't want you to feel pressured to say yes because there are people there. He’ll love you the same married or not, but he does note how pretty you look with the ring he bought you on your finger.

I personally believe he would be more likely to get in a committed relationship with another mutant. I just think a lot of the X-Men would want to be able to relate to their partner and have their partner relate to them, and Logan is going to live a long life so…I can't truly see him with a normal person. 

If you are apart of the X-Men, while he won’t baby you or anything, he finds himself keeping an eye on you the most. There have been a fair amount of times that you find yourself having a Logan shield on the field, and even more often if you are susceptible to projectiles. 

Dates are a norm at this point, Fridays are always the day he takes you out. It’s usually the same place, but he thinks it’s nice. 

Flowers are also a norm, if you mention you like them. 

He doesn’t do much on Valentine’s day because he already does all the normal valentine’s day stuff it weekly or bi-weekly. Does get cheat food so you guys can eat it and watch stupid rom com movies though. 

Scott (Cyclops):

First and Foremost Scott is such a golden retriever. Anything you want, he obtains quickly and with 0 thoughts of you getting him something in return. He just wants to see his partner happy and healthy, with a smile on their face as often as possible.

He is very big on PDA, likes to hold your hand, or slip an arm around your waist, put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, etc. Overall he just likes touching you, and just because you're in public doesn’t mean anything.

Adding on to his liking of PDA, I feel like he’s possessive. Like in the one X-Men movie, when Logan goes into the past and stops bad shit from happening and goes to touch Jean and he blocks him? Yeah he does that with you but with everyone. He likes people knowing your his and what’s better than you two being attached at the hip in public?

He likes when you wear his things as well, not so much for people knowing you’re his like mentioned above but just because you're adorable in it. Want his sweatshirt? He’s giving it to you even though it's negative 5 out. His cologne? Just take the whole bottle, even though it’s brand new. He’ll get another one!!

When he’s on missions and away, he gives you so many shirts and even a pair of sweats. Sprays the stuffed animals he got you with his cologne, same with your pillows. He will expect the same if it’s you going away for a long time. Or you’ll come back to him sleeping on your side of the bed where it smells the most like you, his face stuffed in one of your pillows that has one of your shirts on it. 

He is very vocal about being your boyfriend, and you being his partner. Everyone in the world knows, yet no one asked. He’ll gush about you to whoever will listen, the rest of the team is so done but they do admit his devotion to you is adorable.

All the ladies and gents and nonbinary pals who want an over the top surprise proposal, this is your man. It’s super romantic, he pays for your nails if you wear them, getting your hair done, and a new outfit. And you can’t even tell it’s because he wants to propose because he does this all the time. Then he takes you to your fav restaurant and pops the question.

Make no mistake though, he has to be 100% sure that you want him to propose to do so. He’s so attuned to you and your likings he gets your dream ring without having to ask everyone close to you first. Which also assures him no one can spoil the surprise.

He is one of the few ones who probably doesn’t care if you're a mutant or not, because his love is 100% blind. He would probably want a mutant partner, but once he falls he falls hard.

He also won’t baby you if you’re in the X-Men, but if he happens to laser them first? Not his fault.

Kurt (NightCrawler):

He is a very shy partner at first. But once he falls for you, and you make it obvious you have fallen for him it all goes out the window. He is a completely different person around you, confident and flirty. He is just so in love. 

Teases you almost constantly, he’s a teaser with everyone but he loves to see you blush and squirm from his words. 

Loves if you run your fingers through his fur, and almost emits a low purr when you do. If you brush it for him, especially if he doesn’t ask you but you WANT to, he swears he is going to marry you one day. 

He takes you places you told him you wanted to go to when you guys were in the talking stage. Paris? Done, let’s get some baguettes for back home! The Bahamas? Pack a bathing suit, and make sure to bring the detangling brush.

He loves non sexual acts of intimacy, like taking baths together!! Your fingers feel like heaven on his scalp when you massage the shampoo and conditioner in his hair. He also loves touching your body, he’s always careful with the fact he has claws but he would never dream of hurting you.

Big on cuddling and all that stuff in private, but I feel like he would want to keep it behind closed doors. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands on you otherwise. 

Long missions with him are never a problem, he’ll just teleport to you wherever you may be and spend time with you before heading back. 

He’s your call bird, and the gossip you two are able to share with one another? It is divine. He seems to know everything, and you know the most obvious stuff but he always makes you feel like Sherlock Holmes when you tell him things he already heard and was going to tell you about. Which is why he always makes you spill the tea first lol.

For marriage and proposing, I can see him accidentally proposing on a mission. Tensions are high, and he’s worried that one of you won’t make it home to the other. The thought alone makes him dread the upcoming battle, but he grabs your hand and looks into your eyes and states with all the conviction in the world “We’ll get married after this.”

You brush it off, after you both survive the battle, that he didn’t mean it. He just wanted you to know how much he loved you. But oh how wrong you are when you walk into a room with all your close friends and family, Kurt in the middle down on one knee and asking you to marry him. Your face was priceless, and lucky for him everyone took pictures. 

He definitely carries around a photo with you wherever he goes, and when he prays he takes it out and not only asks that God protect him, but you as well because there is no life beyond you. Even if you’re not religious he’ll still do it, just for the peace of mind. 

Jean:

She’s the black cat of the relationship for sure. I mean, she has a lot of issues but she always makes you her first priority. 

She keeps tabs on you constantly. What’s your mood, why? She’ll talk to you in your mind when you’re anxious to calm you, and let you know that she’s there with you. She’s probably an anxious persons’ best friend. You don’t even have to talk, she knows what you mean and changes accordingly. 

She is big on communication for sure. If you do something that bothers or hurts her feelings she will sit you down and talk to you about it. And she has this certain way of doing that doesn’t make you feel guilty. She’s just letting you know what she does and doesn’t like and won’t tell anyone else. These things are very private to her. And she expects you to do the same, and her feelings are never hurt by it. 

Jean’s type of love is selfless. She would put herself in danger tenfold just to keep you safe. Mutant or not, she would be the one to baby you if you’re a part of the X-Men as well. There’s always a kind of bubble around you, that not many but you notice. Hence, people think you’re indestructible because you’re the only one who came back uninjured for the fourth time. 

She wants to be independent, but also loves when you do stuff for her. She will never ask, but her heart warms so much when she sees you did something for her because you wanted too and not because she asked. 

She plans your dream proposal. She is almost a roommate in your own mind, she knows what you like and don’t like. 

Small extra blurb: imagine giving telepathic hints that you want a proposal. She thinks “Why are they broadcasting their ring si-ooooh. I see.”

She is so gentle with you, almost afraid that you’ll break and it’ll be all her fault. The way her hands gently caress you or how she holds your hand is so incredibly gentle.

[voikiraz]

— the 𝓽𝔂𝓹𝓮 of boyfriend to ☆ [ k.dh ]

Lovers . Bf!leehan x fem!reader w. Horrendously down bad ihan and reader puts hair ties on him ᐢᗜᐢ step ? #752 M.recordings [ first bonedo post omgggg, guys im obsessed with leehan can you tell ]

Syn. Leehan is the type of boyfriend to

𓈒 𐔌 𝓜.list ͡꒱ ۫ ʬʬ 𝐂licks ˚ tag ✶

Is the type to wake up for work early and move very quietly to not wake you up, and at the end he gives you a little forehead kiss as goodbye.

Is the type to just look at you with a little smile, a head tilt and glowing eyes when you're teasing him or simply just talking because he's just that much in love with you.

Is the type to let you go wash your hands after dinner as he sneakily tries to get some of the dishes done because he knows you do a lot for him.

Is the type to tie your shoes for you even though you told him a hundred times that you can do it yourself, still he picks you up and sits you on the high counter, letting your legs dangle down so he can tie your shoelaces.

Is the type to tell you that something important came up and he needs to leave on his only free day, only to go get you some flowers and your favourite chocolate bar. ( bonus points if he hides the calorie count on the back side of the chocolate bar if he knows that you're wary about your calorie intake )

Is the type to run his hands through your hair until you fall asleep in his arms.

Is the type to speak to you all gently no matter what because he knows you've been through alot.

Is the type to take your makeup off for you if you're too tired to do it.

Is the type to keep a hair tie or a hair clip in his bag for you because you always lose yours.

Is the type that has a locked note of everything you like and dislike, even though he remembers it all.

Is the type to take you out every week no matter what, even if he is busy he always figures it out.

Is the type to always sit down as you give him a haul of the new stuff you bought from your girls trip with your friends, twirling you around in your gorgeous dresses and letting you try the new hair ties on him.

Is the type to brush your hair just because he loves your hair as he says. ( i cry )

Is the type to feel his heart doing a backflip if you're chatting with his mother or helping her with something thinking that he hit the jackpot.

Is the type to literally giggle when you speak in a different language, even though you could be insulting him, he doesn't really care anyways.

Is the type to get you matching necklaces with your initials on his and his initials on yours.

Is the type to make your birth date his phone password. ( cringe T-T )

Is the type to be obsessed with your home cooked food, saying it tastes better than anything.

Is the type to keep a hand around your shoulder or on your lower back when you're in a crowded place or when he simply wants to keep you close.

Is the type to have a pair of shoes in his car because he knows your high heels make you suffer.

Is the type to notice if you're uncomfortable and ask if you were okay, even if you were attending an important event, he'll leave if you want to he doesn't care, all he needs is to make you comfortable.

Is the type to keep scolding you when you get a little cut by accident saying you should be more careful as he puts a little bandaid on your finger.

Is the type to go out of his way to get you a huge box filled with stuff you've mentioned over the year as your birthday present. + a lot of handwritten letter.

Is the type to help you study if you're struggling, even if he doesnt know much about the topic he'll try to atleast help you with flashcards, organising your space or making you a drink and sitting beside you to see if you need anything.

Is the type to have a spicific ringtone for you, he doesnt usually check his messages but for you, he sprints to his phone.

Is the type to bring you up in conversations so much no matter the topic at hand, and he doesn't even notice it.

Is the type to name one of his fish after you, and makes her fish tank extra pretty and special.

© voikiraz 2O24

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

“I love you.”

Various jjba characters and how they express their affection for you

Content: lots of fluff and physical affection, inclusion of Dio being shallow and manipulative, alcohol and alcoholism mentioned, slightly suggestive

Written in headcanons style

Characters: Joseph Joestar (part 2), DIO, Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, Guido Mista, Gyro Zeppeli

-Joseph Joestar: You will be drowning in his loud affection one way or another. Such a physically affectionate partner, his lips pressed all over you, a constant flirt with wandering hands (and sometimes wandering eyes). He always aims to impress you or show off, and makes an effort to remember your likes and dislikes. He might tease, but he’s usually careful to not push you too far. Always jumping in to defend you; your sad face cuts him deeper than you know. You shouldn’t ever have to cry out of anguish, it is something he simply won’t stand for. If you do cry around him, you can guarantee he won’t be resting til you’re smiling again. He puts every effort into making you feel better when you’re down; it’s one of the rare moments you see him choose to behave seriously in front of you.

-DIO: Love…When you’re around him and he says his affection for you is deep and endless, it is very believable. He had such a way with words he could convince you of most anything, honestly. He could tell you you were the only one he ever saw, his favorite, he wishes he could spend his eternity by your side and of course he would if it wouldn’t be so cruel to take your humanity by turning you into a vampire. Or so he says.

It sounds ridiculous when you reflect on it when you’re away from him. Of course he’s just telling you what you want to hear, why do you keep coming back?!

And yet you return and return and return. Even though it was only shallow lust, if it came from Lord Dio it felt like you were with your soulmate. Maybe that’s the limit of the affection he will ever feel for you. A lust, a desire just deep enough that he will put some effort into taking care of you. His “love” comes from words, waxing empty poetic to you. And, of course, promising to give you whatever it is you truly want. He will make it happen. All you need to do is swear your loyalty to him, and he will grant you any desire you seek…

And if that desire is him? You can have your fill whenever you please~

-Rohan Kishibe: He is not a subtle man, nor does he try to be. A mere glance will show you the true impact you have on him…after all…you so often appear in his works. And so blatantly too. This character has your eyes. That character has a birthmark just like yours. One says things you would say. One dresses in your style. A piece of you, each time. It is how he wants it. He is proud to admit you are his ultimate muse, his favorite inspiration. Whenever he’s fighting art block, he turns to you.

Though, he is not so good with actually verbalizing the depths of his affection for you. He’s not the best at physical affection either. He won’t hold hands for long, he often doesn’t know how to respond to kisses and hugs, and usually he doesn’t get too close at night, if he even comes to bed at all.

It is enough for you. It doesn’t matter so much to you that he isn’t an expert in verbal or physical affection. You feel every ounce of his passionate love for you when he asks you to model for him, even though you know an exceptionally brilliant artist like him doesn’t need you to do a basic pose for him. And it does not go unnoticed to you that the poses he requests are always very comfortable for you to hold on the couch.

-Bruno Bucciarati: He takes care of you. It is what he does, and it is how he shows his love. You’re eating at a restaurant, he will pay the check. Stuck in a crowd? His hand will be on the small of your back, maybe subconsciously, or maybe deliberately, so he won’t lose track of you. He’ll drive you home at night, and wait til he sees you’re safely inside. He is a sanctuary.

Though he is not the most in tune with his emotions, and clear communication is difficult for him sometimes, but damnit if he doesn’t try for your sake. He’s very busy, but he makes an effort to carve out some time for you where you can both have some peace and quiet, and a heart-to-heart.

When it’s just the two of you, he’s able to lower that guard of his. You can always tell he’s tired. But he puts you and everyone else he cares about first, every time.

You lean against his chest. He is so tense, but he allows himself to slump his shoulders and hold you close. He talks for a bit, just being honest with you, vulnerable. And then he goes quiet, his chin resting against the top of your head.

His breathing is soft, his hands gently slide down your arms…he had fallen asleep. A rare opportunity for you to take care of him without him protesting has finally presented itself…

-Leone Abbacchio: Sure he is a jaded and broken and horribly grumpy man but he is also very capable of affection and care, even if he’s not the best at showing it. Despite his crass personality, he has suffered so much, so he can also empathize much more than you’d initially think. Though that doesn’t make him great at giving you comfort or affirming speeches. His love comes from reassurance; usually words are unnecessary. He’ll always sit beside you wherever you go. If someone tries to take his spot next to you at a restaurant, he’ll drag them out of that seat if he has to. What is his is also yours. You want to drink his wine? Sure, don’t mind the purple lipstick on the rim of the glass. The depth of his physical affection is deepest when you share a quiet evening together. His hand on your shoulder, face pressed against your neck. Whether it’s him taking a quick moment to reflect (you’re his pillar, and he’s reminded of it especially when his troubles seem to melt away when he presses his forehead against the back of your neck), or he’s a little drunk and trusts you to straighten him out (his pillar, his pillar…even when he’s indulged in too many bad habits and slurs his words and stains your neck with purple lipstick as he falls asleep nestled against you, you are always so kind and patient to him, but always firm). He is broken, his regrets follow him like a vengeful ghost, he will never be good enough for you in his own eyes. But damn it if he won’t at least try.

-Guido Mista: His hand in yours, quick kisses up your arms all the way up to your cheek. His bullets swirling around him constantly gushing about how nice and amazing you are and begging Mista to go see you again so they can Also see you. The mercilessness when he digs his fingers into your skin and tickles you until he ends up getting hurt from your elbow hitting his nose on accident from your squirming.

He calls your name just to get you to look at him. He thinks you smell SO good, especially after you freshen up with your favorite scent, but he actually worries about looking weird around you so he might not say anything. Guess he doesn’t realize it’s much weirder to silently sneak in sniffs instead of telling you he likes how you smell. He’s even more impulsive than usual when you’re involved. If he has money in his pocket and you seem slightly interested in something you can bet he’s opening up his wallet and buying it for you.

You do a lot for him, a steady and familiar comfort in his crazy life…so let him blow a couple bucks on you when he wants to. Seeing you happy when he manages to get you something you like is one of his greatest joys in life.

-Gyro Zeppeli: Watch his hands, he’ll put them all over you when the opportunity presents itself. He’s not a gentleman, you already knew that. He doesn’t even try to talk like one. He loves how you feel in his lap, and he’s not shy about saying it out loud. One of life’s greatest joys is a drink in one hand, and his other hand supporting the back of a cute thing like you sitting on his thighs. If you walk by him, you Know that man is gonna try and playfully spank you. Put your hands in his hair, he loves when you play with it, but choose your timing because it might put him in a mood if you tug on it. And of course he’ll delight you with the spin, if you let him. He uses it so gently with you, easing your sore muscles after a long day, or sending pleasant sensations rippling across your skin. Or using it to cause a bit of mischief. A sudden jolt through your body when he wants your attention, or a relentless tickling that has you laughing and writhing and begging him to knock it off.

He holds onto you like a teddy bear when the two of you snuggle up for the night. His muscular arms wrapped around you, clinging to you, snuggling his face against you.

It can be suffocating at times. He’s just so. Big and strong. But damn do you feel safe, and you haven’t the heart to push him away when he wants to hold you at night.

He does this thing where he gives you something he values, so you can hold onto it for him and give it back to him later. It’s how he shows his trust for you. Hold on to one of his belt buckles, or his goggles, or his hat…give it back at your leisure. He insists. He knows you’ll keep it safe, and it’ll remind you of him if you hold onto it. In his eyes it’s a win win.

[saylor-twift]

Older and Wiser

~Word count: 2.4k

~Warnings: none!

~Summary: Through an unexpected birthday gift, the Wanderer falls in love with you a little more.

~Notes: A very much needed romantic birthday special for one of the best characters hoyoverse has ever created. I haven’t written anything in over half a year… yikes! hope y’all enjoy this shit lmfao

(divider from cafekitsune <3)

He remembers. He remembers a sunny afternoon mid-September, when the skies were free of clouds and, as per usual, the ever rambunctious streets of Sumeru were crowded with all likes of people from near and far. Wooden carts and stands and makeshift stages and of course, the blazing sun. He was irritated. Meaning, his mood was as average as it could be for such a typical day. He had just finished another lecture, one that of course he had absolutely not decided to attend of his own will. It’s always invites upon invites upon invites, and no matter how hard he tries to show disinterest, the well educated people of the Akedemiya never seemed to have learned how to take a hint.

The large hat he favors on a daily basis does well to protect the sun from blinding his eyes and scorching his fair skin, though it’s not like his puppet body could even form a sunburn. Not to mention it blocked his view from unwanted passersby if he tilted it at just the right angle. That way, he always had the excuse of, “Oh, I just didn’t see you” every time somebody accuses him of ignorance. It usually works, too. The majority of people are not brave enough to try and continue a conversation with him once they’ve seen that they’ve already been shut down. Most people, of course, can never quite equate to a whole. There’s always at least one person who stands out from the rest. And quite frankly, who that “one person” happens to be, doesn’t bother him so much.

“Hey!”

I don’t see you.

“Kuni, hey!”

Ah, wait, I know that voice. Nevermind, then.

A sweet smile and rosy cheeks, an even sweeter voice. Sweets are growing on him, dammit. Growing? No, they’ve long since planted their seeds and sprouted. He knows this.

“Yes?” He responds, and it’s not quite as irritable as it could have been. “Have you been following me?”

“No.” You respond, a little too confidently. “Well, yes. But it wasn’t my original intention. I was grabbing some groceries and I saw you walk out. I thought you weren’t meant to be done till five?”

He turns around to face you, tilting the brim of his hat upwards. You deserve to have his full attention, even if prior to hearing your voice all he desired was to return home and away from prying eyes. He offers a nonchalant shrug in response to your question.

“I was meant to be done. Turns out the old geezer could only stand to talk for so long. He wrapped the lecture up somewhat nicely, but there were so many unresolved questions and holes in his logic that anyone could see he was just trying to get it over with.”

You can’t help but laugh, at this point you can only find his penchant for exaggerating situations he dislikes rather humorous. The sound burns his ears, and until he met you all that time ago, he had no idea his puppet body could feel butterflies in his stomach.

“There is nothing to laugh at. The entire lesson was completely insipid.” He argues, but even the supposedly heartless puppet can’t help the way you make him smile.

“Well I wasn’t exactly planning on ever attending a lecture from the Akedemiya, but now I have reason to stay away on purpose.” You quip, smile never fading. He chuckles in response, and you admire how nice his features look at ease, when they’re not so tightly wound up in discomfort. “Hey, before you go…” you say suddenly, after a few moments of silence bordering on awkwardness. You reach into a small pocket in the folds of your clothing, and swiftly pull out a polished, silver key dangling from a long black string. The string is tied together in the middle in a neat little bow. You don’t miss the way his eyebrow raises in confusion. Before he has the chance to make any sort of comment, you are quick to explain.

“I found it in some pawn shop a few streets down. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t leave it alone. There’s.. not a whole lot that’s special about it, but I thought maybe you should have it.”

His eyebrow raises higher, if that’s even possible. “A… key? But it’s a necklace? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the gesture, but… there has to be some other reason as to why you purchased this.”

You reach over and dangle the loop around his slender fingers, and he holds it out in front of him in curiosity. You simply shrug in response. “It’s nice, at least a little, don’t you think? Maybe it was the design on the handle. If you look closely, it looks like little lotuses. Like your hat. Maybe that’s why I liked it so much. In any case, please keep it! You don’t have to wear it, but you can’t get rid of it, alright?”

“I..” he looks at the strange piece of “jewelry” as if one would a strange plant found in the wilderness. He appreciates the gesture, but still, he doesn’t quite understand it. “I do think it’s nice. I do. I will keep it.” He assures, offering something that could almost pass for a smile. You try not to let on just how pleased you are.

Today is January 3rd. Out of all the days of the year, The Wanderer has decided that this is the one he dislikes the most. Even if he tried to pretend it was just another day like he always had, he cannot possibly shake the nagging reminder that on this day, all those years ago, his body had been infused with the element of her, and been brought to life. Her hands that made him, her hands that cast him away, her hands that “freed” him. He wouldn’t rather trade the life he has now for much else, but still, he never can quite stop his mind from imagining how different things would have been had his creator not been shocked by his crystalline tears.

It has somehow become common knowledge that the Wanderer does not like to show his face to the public on his birthday. How everyone found out this certain day was even his birthday in the first place, he will never know. Henceforth, it has become somewhat of a tradition for the Wanderer to seek out different hiding places throughout the day and see how long they lasted, mostly for his own amusement. Of course, he really could just stay in his room the entire day, but with an aunt-figure like Nahida hovering over his shoulder and enforcing self care and improvement 24-7, that was not much of an option.

It seems his most recent choice for a place of solitude was his best work yet, because even as the sun descended over the horizon and the sky turned orange, no one has yet to find him. Except, the funny thing is, this isn’t really a hiding place. It never was. And he’s hoping the one person who knows of this little safe haven, tucked into the corner of a large branch near the top of The Divine Tree, stumbles in any second now.

His eyes have begun to peacefully shut, but one opens on high alert at the sound of shoes on wood as his person finally finds him. He smiles, more of a smirk, but a smile nonetheless.

“Took you long enough.”

“Right, like you haven’t been avoiding everyone all day.”

“It was a test to see if I was really worth your time. You passed, by the way.”

You laugh in disbelief, shoving his shoulder a little as you sit down. Carefully cradled in the gentleness of your palms is a small, yet dense package. It’s wrapped neatly in green patterned paper and topped with a neat little bow. He pretends not to notice.

“Test. Yeah, sure. Happy birthday.” You reply sweetly, your smile even sweeter. He tries not to show you the discomfort that phrase brings upon him. “It’s just a day. Nothing special about it.” He insists. His gaze is focused on the landscape down below, on the merchants slowly packing up their shops and the sun setting beyond the trees, his palm atop his knee.

“You always say that. It will never make me stop trying, you know. I care, even if you don’t.”

“I know.” He insists. “You always do. I know. I.. appreciate it.”

You smile. You were expecting more of a fight from him, to be honest. Although, over the months, he’s lost quite a bit of the usual fierceness he so dearly loved to harbor.

“Happy birthday. I mean it.”

…

“Thank you.” he replies, gaze trained down at his lap.

“I.. have something for you.” You say. He perks up. He’d almost forgotten about the pretty little package sitting in your lap. “Again?” He questions, a cover up for his obvious interest in whatever trinket you’ve fished up for him this year. Somehow, you’ve always had a knack for giving concealed meanings to simple items.

“Again? Of course I’ve got something for you again. Why would I not?” You grip the box a little tighter, and it’s hard to deny the ever growing sense of worry in the pit of your stomach. Even knowing how easy it is for you to please him, you’ll never know if one day your efforts turn out to be in vain. Perhaps he’s grown tired of your antics, or he’s simply not in the mood for your sweetly attempted gestures. You can only pray you’re overthinking. “You.. you are too much, you know that? Too good. Very well, let’s see it.” He replies, feigning nonchalance.

You roll your eyes, but carefully place the box into his cool, slender, outstretched hand. It dips a bit under the weight of the dense box. So little, yet carrying so much weight. What could you have crammed in here, he wonders. He eyes you again, and you nod to give him the go ahead to peel away the paper. He does so with utmost caution and care, as if the wrapping paper itself was the precious gift. Tearing the paper away reveals a little box with a keyhole in the center. It’s silver, and has got intricate little engravings all over the top and bottom as well as four little curved legs. He attempts to open the gift, but to no avail. You’ve given him a locked box? He looks to you with yet another raised eyebrow.

You can only bite your lip to conceal your growing excitement, hands clasped in the fabric atop your lap. “A puzzle, is it?” He murmurs, turning the metal box over and over in his hands, tracing his thumb along the engravings as if that were enough to crack the invisible code.

“A smart man needs a smart gift, no?” You reply, leaning so you can rest your chin on his shoulder. Instinctively and completely without thought, his hand moves around your back to rest on the side of your waist. Your sly compliment makes the tips of his ears turn just a little crimson, unnoticeable in the dim night sky. “I’ll give you a hint. You need something I hope you didn’t throw away.” You whisper, and the way your breath tickles the side of his face makes it hard to keep his mind away from you, let alone think about how to solve the puzzle. “You won’t open it while we’re out here, I’ll tell you that much. So you can wait till you get home. For now, is it alright that I stay here with you for a while?”

For some reason, your request to stay has the feeling in his chest drooping in relief, the promise that you’re here with him just for a little longer. He turns to you, with your chin still on his shoulder, and allows his own head to fall on top. His lips silently brush against the top of your head, grazing against the softness of your hair before turning back again to the sun that has set beyond the horizon.

“Like I’d ask for you to leave.”

He has no idea what time it is, and it’s a bit difficult for him to find the ability to care. His chest is light and his heart is free. A stark contrast to the gloomy, pessimistic way he had begun the morning. Every birthday spent with you had ended feeling like this, he notes. How queer.

Though, not entirely. It would not be a grand exaggeration at all to say that you have been the reason he has been so willing to continue on after centuries of living off of spiteful determination.

He’s figured out the puzzle now. Of course, with a mind like yours, it makes so much sense this would have been a gift planned out for months. He opens the drawer to the side of his nightstand, removing notebooks and old papers to reveal an object in the very back corner collecting dust.

He remembers, he remembers the sunny day in September he was given a peculiar key attached to a string. He remembers being told it suited him, for no particular reason. He understands now. He always felt a compulsion to hold on to the strange trinket you had given him, though it’s not like he’d ever discard something from you anyway. He delicately admires the key, engraved with those little lotuses before carefully slipping it inside the lock on his new gift. The satisfying click it makes as it turns perfectly in the hole scratches his brain, and he knows he’s doing something right.

He opens the metal box with tender fingers, and upon pulling back the top he is met with a lovely sight. The contents inside expand to create a beautiful piece of artwork, paper folded to reveal an amalgamation of colorful butterflies all surrounding a grandiose lotus flower posed right in the center. It’s nothing special, he can already hear you saying. Maybe to you, but to him, it’s something he’s certain he will keep with him until the day the fates decide he’s no longer fit to continue living in this world.

He understands the deeper meaning inside, whether intentional or not. He had been given the key months before, without any clue of what it could lead to. Yet he trusted you and your words, and he’s finally received the prize at the end. He understands what you mean to tell him, what you meant all along for him to understand.

“Trust me, my love. Give me your time, and I’ll give you mine. Trust me, and in due time, you’ll come to understand.”

[snazzynacho]

— Sick Side

Part 1/?

Emperor Geta x female original character (x Caracalla (one-sided)

Summary: Florentia is betrothed to Geta, but Caracalla is dangerously obsessed with her.

Warnings/tags: 18+ Mentions of STD, mental illness, disease, Forced proximity, forced kissing, referenced/implied past sexual abuse, violent urges, obsessive thoughts, delusions of a disordered mind. No non-con s3x, but it's close. She/her pronouns used. Slight canon divergence. OC is a bit naive and way too nice. Tags may change.

Words: 5k Read on ao3. Masterlist.

A/N: Let’s explore Caracalla’s sick side together (he’s still my babygirl). I initially planned for this to take place in a sort of au/pre-gladiator ii, but then it started making sense to take place during gladiator ii, when Macrinus is being manipulative…so yeah. I've only been able to see the film once so sorry if I get some things wrong. I don't have an editor so sorry if there are typos etc.

Please check the tags before reading.

It is often that Florentia finds herself immersed in the magnificence of the imperial gardens.

She feels it is an honour to walk among the beauty of the statues of the Roman gods and goddesses, and the flowers blooming for all to see. She remembers the Imperial Gardens being talked about with her, before she became wedded to Geta. Everyone has said how wonderful it is, and she can understand why now.

Usually, when she is invited to the palace, Geta’s brother happens to be in the gardens and they walk together when Geta is busy. She likes his company, no more than Geta’s, but he seems sweet. Troubled, but sweet.

Today, they are doing just that.

The air is thick with blooming flowers such as roses and lilies. Caracalla follows a few steps behind her, rambling about nothing in particular, his words spilling out in his usual, disjointed manner.

Caracalla suddenly beams at her, expecting agreement. Having not listened, Florentia does not respond immediately. She does not dislike him, per-sey, but he is so oblivious and his childlike enthusiasm worries her. How is he, Emperor? She knows that his father pleaded with Geta to be Co-Emperors with him, but being in person with the ill emperor is—and she hates to admit it—quite jarring. Her platonic love for him does not diminish, though. Caracalla is going to become her brother-in-law and she will become another one of his carers, as Geta is to him already. Maybe she’s the missing link between them.

“I suppose,” she says, her tone cool, as if she knows what he is talking about.

He nods eagerly, clearly pleased. He believes her lie. “I knew you’d get it. You’re not like the others. You actually understand me.”

Florentia shifts her attention to a butterfly that has fluttered past, its wings reflecting in the sunlight. It lands on a nearby rose, and she absently follows its flight.

“It’s pretty,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him.

“It’s not as pretty as you.” He is serious, his bright blue eyes train on her with an intensity that is both surprising and unsettling.

Florentia blinks, unsure whether to laugh or change the subject in its entirety.

“Yes,” he continues, his gaze softening. “You are like…the sunniest daffodil, the brightest narcissi—though unvain…The smartest rose in the garden. Beautiful, but also clever…A sharp edge to the most elegant sword.”

Florentia is stunned. He is rambling, yet there is an earnestness in his voice, a sweetness beneath. She opens her mouth to respond, but finds herself at a loss.

Caracalla flushes slightly, misinterpreting her silence as disappointment. He feels somewhat dejected. “I…I mean- not that you are weak without a sword, or too harsh like one-”

For the first time, Florentia truly realises that, despite his maddening disease, he is trying. Underneath, there is a sincere man.

Florentia holds his hand carefully. She can feel him trembling. “What you said was beautiful, Caracalla. Don’t go back on your word,”

Caracalla’s eyes widen, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. He has not expected her to respond this way. “You…you think so?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Yes,” she says. “It was…quite sweet.”

His face brightes, a smile grows on his lips. “I knew you’d get it,” he echoed, sounding like a child who had just received praise from a teacher he admired.

Florentia squeezes his hand gently, before letting go carefully. She studies him for a moment, noting the eager light in his eyes, the almost nervous way he was fiddling with the fabric of his toga. Her heart softens. She is so happy to have such a generous brother-in-law already—a new friend.

An orange blur flutters past the corner of her eye. “oh, I think it flew away,” she says sadly.

Caracalla turns to follow her gaze, his expression turning almost boyish. “I’ll catch it!”

He dashes forward, his footsteps heavy on the cobblestones, trying to keep up with the elusive butterfly which seems to take pleasure in taunting him, fluttering away just as he reaches for it, only to settle on a flower just out of his grasp.

“Caracalla!” she giggles as she tries to catch up with him, holding her stola to aid in running.

“I got it! I got it!” he exclaims, lunging forward, arms outstretched. Just as he thinks he has the butterfly cornered, it darts away again, leaving Caracalla grasping at thin air.

Florentia reaches him, catching up with his pursuit. She tries to hold back her laughter, but a chuckle escapes her lips. “You’re scaring it!” she speaks a hint of glee in her voice. “If it wants to fly away, let it. That’s what it does” she calmly says.

Caracalla stands there, slightly out of breath, a dejected expression on his face. “But I wanted to hold it,” he mumbles, his lower lip almost quivering. Florentia cannot help but find him strangely endearing in that moment. He is an emperor, a powerful man, yet he is pouting like a child over a butterfly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, gently caressing. “I am sure you will soon,”

His breath hitches at her touch, his eyes widening at the unexpected affection. He leans his weight into her hand, soaking up her comfort like a flower in the sun.

“You think so?” he asks, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. For once, he sounds almost insecure and vulnerable.

“Yes, I believe so,”

He smiles, a small, genuine smile, his earlier disappointment forgotten. For a while, he simply stays there, savouring the touch of her hand on his face. It is such a stark contrast to the usual spoilt swagger and boldness he usually displays, it catches Florentia off guard.

“It can sense a great friend, as I have with you!” she beams.

A tinge of uncertainty occurs at the pit of his stomach, but he smiles nonetheless.

“Look! There it is again!” she spots the butterfly up ahead again. “Wait here, it’ll slowly come back” she interlocks her arm with his gently, so he doesn't run after the butterfly and scare it away.

He obeys, keeping absolutely still, almost holding his breath, as the butterfly returns. Florentia's strategy seems to be working. The tiny insect flutters closer, seemingly unbothered by their presence now, drawn in by her gentle coaxing.

Caracalla gapes, wonder in his eyes, as the butterfly lands delicately on a nearby flower.

It then flies back up in front of their faces and then lands somewhere they do not expect…her nose.

The butterfly perches calmly on the tip of her nose, its wings gently flutter. The moment is almost magical, the world around them fades away as they focus on the tiny creature on Florentia’s nose.

Caracalla’s eyes widen in surprise. Pure glee on his expression. A small gasp escapes his lips. He tenses to move, to try and grab the butterfly, but one look from Florentia holds him in place.

“Don’t move!” she whispers tersely.

She cannot stop grinning as she looks cross eyed, staring down at the butterfly. Caracalla chuckles softly, his eyes are glued to the scene before him. He’s seen Florentia smile and laugh plenty of times—at parties the emperor’s have thrown and dinners they've presented, which is where Geta and her first met—but this is different. There is something nearly childlike in her wide, joyous smile, in the way her eyes sparkle with wonder—like he.

He can't resist marvelling at the sight before him: a beautiful woman, standing in a sunlight garden, a butterfly perched delicately on her nose, making her look for all the world like a nymph straight out of mythology. A true goddess.

He is simply a man, sharing a serene moment with a captivating woman.

“You look positively adorable,” he murmurs, barely able to keep a laugh at bay.

Florentia gulps but blushes deeply, as the implications of his words sink in. The butterfly stays on her nose.

He cannot stop himself from stepping closer, unable to tear his eyes away from her smiling face. She looks so happy, so unguarded in that moment, and all he wants is to be closer to her.

“You are… lovely,” his voice low, reverent. Without thinking, he reaches out, his fingers hovering just above her cheek, as if afraid to touch the fragile moment and shatter it.

The butterfly, seemingly unbothered by Caracalla’s movement, remains perched on Florentia’s nose, oblivious to the tension between them. It continues to flutter softly, its wings a flurry of orange, black and white colours.

Caracalla’s hand hovers a moment longer, the desire to touch her is practically overwhelming, but he hesitates. The reality of their situation crashes back into his mind. She is promised to his brother. There are rules, traditions, duties…

Still, he aches to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin under his fingers.

“Florentia,” he whispers, his voice almost hoarse. “I… I…” He does not know what to say. He wants to confess his feelings, and his growing liking for her. But the words seem to catch in his throat, trapped in the knowledge that he should not feel this way, not towards Geta’s betrothed.

The butterfly suddenly flies away, snapping them out of this trance. Caracalla’s outstretched hand drops to his side, the moment lost. Florentia steps back, clearing her throat.

He blinks, suddenly self-conscious, his heart still pounds in his chest. He wants to say something, to bring the magic back, but what can he say? He almost confessed, almost crossed a line he knew he shouldn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “Ah… that was… quite the experience.”

“I’m sorry Caracalla, I do apologise, but I must go.” she abruptly declares.

“What?” Caracalla’s brows furrow as his eyes widen, a pang of panic hitting him in the stomach. “Go? Where? Why?”

He has not expected her to leave so unexpectedly. Just moments ago, she looked so carefree, so happy, and now she was rushing off, her face tight with tension.

“Florentia, wait,” he calls out, reaching for her, a desperate edge to his voice. He cannot let her go, not now, not when he’s just had the smallest taste of the closeness he’s been yearning for.

“It’s uh— a lady thing!” Florentia blurts as she practically sprints away. It is a lie to her but she does not have time to care.

“A… a Lady thing?” Caracalla stands there, dumbfounded, as he watches her hasty retreat. She is obviously flustered, her cheeks rosy and her steps quick. But a ‘Lady thing’? Caracalla did not know much about the female mind, or their struggles, but he did know a thing or two of something they go through every month…

He frowns at the thought of her being in discomfort. He stands there for what feels like ages, hesitating. He listens to the conflicting voices fight in his head. The more primal voice, the one that cannot forget the way her skin had felt under his fingers, the one that craves her touch again, urges him to follow her, to demand answers. But the other part, the rational voice of imperial duty which understands propriety and etiquette, wills him to remain where he is and tells him to let her go, to forget about her and move on.

He is Emperor. He has a reputation to maintain, an image of absolute power and control. Chasing after a woman, especially his Co-Emperor’s—his brother’s—betrothed, is beneath him. Is it not?

Yet, he cannot unsee her soft and joyful face under the butterfly’s touch, like a painting he can admire but cannot touch, for fear of his hands being scolded.

Finally, with a growl of frustration, he spun on his heel and stalks back towards the palace. He will not follow her, not right now. But he will find her, and he will get answers.

As he walks, his head is a tangled mess of unresolved questions, of unfulfilled desires. He cannot shake the persistent image of her face from his mind, the ghost of his fingers on her skin. He wants to deny his feelings, to bury them under the weight of imperial duties, of concubines. But they remain, stubbornly lodged in his heart. Whether he likes it or not, he has found something he has not experienced: a connection, a longing, for a woman he should not even be thinking about.

Caracalla knows this is dangerous territory—a minefield of political intrigue and familial duty. But he has never been one to heed his own instincts, especially when it comes to women and others he desires. He is an Emperor, and he usually gets what he wants. So why not pursue this forbidden desire?

His ill mind is rapidly regurgitating this greedy sequence of craving, need and want. One minute, he is telling himself he needs to stop thinking about her, and the next, he is already inside the palace, his mind still wrestling with these questions.

Every solution he comes up with raises more obstacles. His duty as an emperor, the politics of the empire, the delicate balance of the imperial family… All of it stands in his way, like unconquerable walls. He scowls, his frustration making his steps heavy as he paces the corridors.

And then, a thought occurs to him. A wild, treacherous thought…

What if he removes Geta from the equation?

The idea is almost shocking in its boldness, its audacity. But the more he thinks about it, the more it begins to carve a twisted sort of sense. Geta, his albeit more stronger brother, the one always better than him... He is a hindrance, a thorn in Caracalla’s side. What if he can eliminate the obstacle, and have Florentia all to himself?

He knows such a thought can be seen as treasonous. but then again, who would dare to accuse the emperor? Geta’s vulnerable, sick, brother? Poor poor Caracalla, to be left with such a weight to bore on his back alone...

The idea continues to take root in his mind, its ugliness blossoming into a twisted plan. Kill Geta, claim Florentia, and secure his line of succession. It is rash, it is dangerous, but it is also thrilling.

Rome’s people are already starting to hate Geta. To turn on them. Macrinus says so himself. So what can be worse?

Caracalla allows himself a small sinister smile, his mind already spinning, devising the first steps of the plan. He makes his way deeper into the imperial residence, nodding curtly at the passing guards and slaves. He will need to keep his growing preoccupation hidden, for now. No one can know his intentions, especially his brother. Geta would certainly know something was askew…he has always been annoyingly perceptive.

He eventually reaches his chambers, closing the door behind him. The room was glorious and luxurious, fit for any majesty. Massive, lavish, and impersonal.

He stalks over to a table, his shaky hand immediately reaches for a bottle of alcohol. He pours himself a goblet of red wine, the quality stuff which is normally reserved for high officials and special occasions, but he thinks this is special enough, right? He needs something stronger for today. The liquid is rich and dark. It doesn't quench his thirst for a particular woman, though.

Drinking deeply from the goblet, savouring the bitter taste, he doesn’t realise he has drunk it all until he’s left slurping air. It was certainly a good drink. He feels the wine spreading through his body, warm and invigorating—a dangerous addition to his already unstable state.

He refills his goblet again and slumps onto a plump chair, swishing the dark red liquid around in the golden goblet, watching the swirls and bubbles forming. He leans back in the chair, his mind is still reeling with his decision. He wants Florentia. He wants her with an intensity so strong, that even he is surprised. And if getting her means doing something as reprehensible as killing his own brother, his own flesh and blood, the one he shared a womb with, then so be it.

He will finally have something of his own, and solely his own. He will have Florentia. One way or another, she will be his.

Caracalla entitles himself to bask in thought. He imagines Florentia by his side, in his bed, under his control. No more coy glances, no more stolen moments. Just her, completely his.

He chuckles darkly, how twisted his mind has become.

He pushes himself up from the chair, pacing across the room. He halts when he walks past his large ornate mirror. He turns to face it, studying his reflection. He looks every bit the Emperor: regal, strong, powerful. More, there is something in his bright blue eyes—a madness that has been festering for a long time. It is a look of a man who has incurably lost all tether to the world, cast to inhumane territories, whether he wants or not.

The enormity of what he is planning to do sinks in. It is not just an act of lust or obsession, it is a betrayal of the highest caliber. Killing his own brother, his blood, just to have his wife.

Yet even as he struggles with the magnitude of what he is about to do, his heart still thuds harder in his chest, his blood grows hotter in his veins. He craves Florentia more than he cares about his own brother.

His gaze never tears from himself. It is the look of a man who is willing to do anything to get what he wants.

“Anything,” he mutters to himself, his voice hoarse with determination. “Anything at all…” He wants Florentia, and he will have her. And nothing, not even familial ties or the wrath of the gods, will stand in his way.

The silence of the room is interrupted by a knock on the door. Caracalla snaps out of his thoughts, his eyes narrow in irritation. Who is foolish enough to disturb him when he is in such a brooding mood?

“What?” he barks out, turning from the mirror. He watches as a slave boy - one of the younger ones - timidly pushes open the door, his eyes lower to the floor and his hands quiver by his sides.

“What is it?” Caracalla repeats, his voice gruff. He can already feel his anger rising. He has no patience for this boy’s cowardice. “Speak up when you’re addressing your Emperor!”

The boy gulps visibly, clearly terrified by the thunderous tone of the emperor's voice. As if the God, Jupiter, has possessed him.

The young servant’s voice comes out in a meek whisper. "The…the Lady Florentia is here, Dominus. She…she says she must speak with you. Urgently,”

Caracalla's eyes widen fractionally in surprise. Florentia is here? In his chambers? It is almost too good to be true. But he quickly composes himself, schooling his features into a neutral expression. "Send her in."

The boy nods quickly before scuttling away, the door closing behind him. Caracalla takes a sudden deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. He is about to be alone, in his room, with Florentia. The very thing he has been craving.

He watches the door expectantly, his hands clenching and unclenching are his sides. Please, he silently prays. Please, come in.

There is a moment of silence, it feels like a century, and then the door swings open. His heart lurches before him. Florentia stands there, silhouetted against the brighter lights of the hallway, her figure in her purple stola, elegant and enticing. Her hair is loose, falling past her shoulders, unbraided unlike it was earlier. Has she arranged it down, especially for him? This enchantress…This Goddess… She might as well be holding his heart in her hands, as that is where it belongs.

Clearly, Caracalla does not see the emotion on her face at first—or rather, unemotion. He's too pre-occupied by the woman he wants in his chambers. Does she feel the same way? Has she heard his plea and come to confess her feelings? Her happy face from earlier is replaced with a tense seriousness he has rarely seen from her.

He stands there transfixed, unsure of what to say.

"Caracalla," Florentia begins softly, her voice cutting through the silence. "May I come in?" Her words come out more like a statement than a question, and Caracalla finds himself nodding “yes” without even thinking, as if under a spell. He watches as she steps fully into the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

This is it. This is the moment…

“What brings you here at this hour, Florentia?" he asks, egging on her feelings for him he thinks she will admit.

He watches as she moves further into the room, her movements graceful but purposeful. She stills, her back to him for a moment, then she turns around. She meets his gaze, her eyes still serious. "We need to talk," she says simply.

Caracalla senses his heart skip a beat at her serious tone. Whatever she has to say, it is clearly important. He tries to keep his features controlled though the urge to reach out and touch her is nearly overwhelming.

“Talk about what?” he questions.

“Please sit with me, Caracalla. I don’t want this to be more difficult than it already is,” she speaks softly, like a parent to a child.

Caracalla frowns, biting his lip, except her soft soothing voice sends shivers down his spine. He feels so conflicted, a mix of dread and anticipation at her request.

Obliging, he settles on a large chaise nearby, gesturing for her to join him. He scrutinises as Florentia settles across from him, sitting straight, her hands tucked in her lap. She is supposed to sit next to me.

For a moment, neither one speaks. The air is thick with tension, each waiting for the other to break the silence first. Finally, Caracalla cannot bear the suspense any longer. “What is it, Florentia?” he asks, his voice gruff. “You say we need to talk. So speak.”

As their eyes lock, he catches a fracture in her serious expression—a flicker of hurt—and it hits him like a punch in the gut.

He tries to steady his features, to keep the turmoil within him at bay. But he can feel his composure slipping. Where is Dondas?

“Flora—” he says, his voice softer now. But she cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“This is difficult enough, Caracalla,” she lets out, her own voice catching slightly. “Please, let me speak. I need to say this.”

He bites back a retort, falling silent. He has never seen her quite like this before…so serious, so vulnerable. It makes him strangely unsettled. He gestures for her to continue, his gaze never leaves her beautiful face.

Florentia takes a deep breath, clearly gathering her thoughts. When she speaks again, her voice has regained its stoic determination.

“Caracalla, I know you have feelings for me. I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way you act around me. And I…” She pauses, a flicker of indecision passing over her features. “I cannot reciprocate those feelings.”

Caracalla leans back, his back hits the chase, as if physically blown by her words. He feels the color drain from his face, his mouth suddenly bone-dry. Is she saying what he thinks she is? She cannot be. Florentia…she is his. How can she not want him?

He attempts to speak, but the words are lodged in his throat. All he can manage is a strangled, “what?”

“Caracalla, this does not mean I do not love you, nor care about you.” she leans forward to carefully hold his hands “I do deeply. Just…not in the romantic sense.”

Caracalla senses her grip on his hands, but he cannot bring himself to look at her. Her words echo in his ears, each syllable is a fresh spike in his heart. She is rejecting him. She cares for him, but only as a friend. Not as a lover, not as he wants her to. It is worse than any physical blow he has ever received.

“But… why?” he manages to croak out, the sound pathetically pleading. His mind shows him flashes of all the times they have spent together these past few months. All those walks in the garden, the polite smiles in passing, the shared memories of the feasts he and his co-emperor have put on. How can she not love me?

“Why?…I…Well, because. Because the gods have someone else for you. Your true love. They’re out there somewhere, just not…here,” Florentia tries to tread around the topic carefully, as she squeezes his hands gently and lovingly.

Her words only fuel his disbelief, his confusion. “The gods?” he echoes, his voice thick with skepticism. “They’ve decided for me who I should love? After deciding to give me this disease?!” his nostrils flare as his anger grows, his expression quickly turns sinister. He can no longer control his unrest.

He cannot fathom how the whims of the gods can dictate something as personal and primal as love. Let alone gift him a lifelong struggle with his disease, which is increasingly becoming more deteriorating day by day, Florentia fears. It seems arbitrary, cruel even.

What have I done to deserve this?

“What I mean is…That, I am not the one for you, and whoever that is will love you so much, as you so deserve. I cannot do so, I am sorry Caracalla.“

He laughs mirthlessly, a hollow sound that reverberates around the room. Love him, as he deserved? He does not care about any other love. He wants HER, and no one else!

Caracalla leans closer, gripping her hand now. Tightly. The pain of her rejection is beginning to give way to something else. Kill Geta. Take Florentia.

“That’s not good enough,” he says, his voice now low and dangerous. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you, Florentia.”

“Want?” she careens back, looking at him in an unreadable expression.

“Yes, want!” Caracalla snaps, his patience wearing thin. He rose from the chaise, pacing restlessly back and forth in front of her. “You say the gods have decreed that there is someone else out there for me. But what do the gods know of love? Of desire?” He stops, turning, pleading. “They are immortal, unfeeling. They do not understand the concept of yearning for someone, to desire them with every fibre of your being.”

Florentia swallows harshly. Her mouth goes dry, and her chest feels heavy. She stares at where he was sitting only a moment ago. “I have desired you from the moment I first laid eyes on you,” Caracalla admits, though Florentia has quickly pieced that together after earlier’s event. His voice is quiet but intense. “Your laugh. Your intelligence. Your beauty. You have invaded my every thought. I cannot think, I cannot sleep, and when I do you are in my dreams. You are all I want, all I fantasise about.”

Tears are brimming his blue eyes, threatening to fall. He takes a step towards her, leaning over to look into her eyes. His eyes burn with an intensity that makes her involuntarily bend her neck away from him. “How dare some gods decide that I cannot have you?” he concludes his speech. His breath is hot on her face, and his possessive words start to scare her.

Her lip wobbles, but she keeps it steady. Her tears cannot fall. Not yet. His passion shocks her and if she were in different circumstances, she may have swooned, but, she is not. Florentia is betrothed to his brother, the one she loves. She stands tall, glaring at him “I have a say in this too, you do realise? Not the Gods, ME. If you loved me as much you claim, then you would do anything for me to be happy,”

Her firmness and strength stuns him momentarily. He did expect her to back down, to be overwhelmed by the force of his passion. But there she is, standing strong against him, her eyes blazing with a fire to match his own.

He takes a step closer, their bodies almost touching. “I would do anything to make you happy,” he says. His voice is a hoarse whisper. “Anything at all. You know that,” he repeats. His shaking hands want to reach out for her.

“Then let me go.” she whispers as her hand reaches for his trembling ones, as if reading his mind, which only makes his delusion of her secretly loving him thrive. We are so in sync, as lovers become one.

His breath catches in his throat. Let her go? It is the last thing he wants to do. But her words hold him in a peculiar sort of trance, as if he is physically incapable of disobeying. “I cannot,” he manages, his voice rough, cheeks rosy and wet with tears. “You cannot ask me to do that, Florentia, you are…” He trails off, his eyes search hers desperately. “You are the only person who makes me feel alive. You cannot ask me to give that up.”

“I will still be here for you. We will still walk together in the garden, see each other over meals, be friends…and when I am married—”

He cuts her off, shaking his head as his hands grip hers tightly. “That’s not enough. I want more than that! I want more of you!”

He steps even closer, their bodies are now pressed against each other. He can feel the heat of her, smell the sweet scent of her skin. The nearness only intensified his need, his longing, his hunger.

“Please, Caracalla, I do not know what to say—”

“Do not speak, then.” He cuts her off again, his voice harsh. Then, his lips are on hers, bruising, possessive. He kisses her with desperation and a need that borders on feral.

Her stomach drops, plunging into a deep uneasy feeling. Her eyes widen as his lips are pressing against hers. She whimpers, not in pleasure, but in shock and hurt.

He does not notice her whimper, deafened by the pounding of his own heart, the roaring in his ears. He only feels the softness of her plump lips, the heat of her breath. He presses forward, his hands moving to grip her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Florentia finally comes to terms with what is happening and grips his shoulders, pushing him away. The unexpected resistance snaps him out of his haze of desire. He lifts his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a mix of surprise and irritation. “What are you doing?” he demands, his voice strained. “Why are you pushing me away?”

“I am scared,” she voices subconsciously, her thought spills out of her, her voice wobbily. “You are frightening me,” It is not the first time a man has acted this way around her. Disturbed her. It has never occurred to her that Caracalla could be the one to continue that cycle, until now. Perhaps she has been naive…

She has to flee before it twists into a situation she never wants to experience again.

Caracalla’s gaze softens at her admission. The anger that has flared up at her resistance fades, replaced with a mix of confusion and tenderness. “Scared?” he recites incredulously. “Why? It is only me, Florentia. I am not going to hurt you.”

Florentia motions backwards, looking at him stunned. But Caracalla doesn't quite understand why. He follows her stare, his confusion deepening. He glances behind him, but sees nothing there that would possibly unnerve her. “What is it?” he asks, his brows furrowing, and his leg taunts, wanting to stamp it down like an irritable child. His impatience is returning, his desire for her opposing with his bewilderment.

“You…” she shakes her head, holding one hand on her chest as she braces a sob. “You are…different.” she takes a deep breath and blinks, hoping to see the sweet side of him from earlier rather than the sick side when she opens her eyes again.

Caracalla takes a step back, withdrawing slightly. Her words hit him like a cold splash of water, sobering him. “Different? How?” he asks gruffly.

His heart is still pounding with a mixture of desire and frustration, but her apparent fear is giving him room to think.

Florentia opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out before she practically leaps out of the room. Her legs working faster than her thoughts

He watches her go, confusion and anger warring within him. “Wait...” he manages to let out, but she is already gone. Caracalla is frozen in place, left alone with a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion, desire, hurt, anger—he feels them all intensely. But over everything is the caving feeling of rejection. Florentia was so close, the taste of her still on his lips, yet, she pulled back as if horrified of him. Everyone always sees me as a monster.

He ran a trembling hand through his red hair, his breathing ragged. What has just happened? How did everything go so wrong, so fast? He wants to go after her, to force her to explain why she has run away. But he also fears whatever it is about him that has frightened her.

Feeling restless and agitated, he paces his room again. He tries to tell himself that it was her uncertainty that made her react that way, not disgust or fear but the thought refuses to take root. Every time he reaches for it, it slips through his fingers like smoke while her terrified expression flashes in his mind as clear as day. “I am scared,” The scene replays over and over in his head, analysing every moment. It is like a neverending waking nightmare.

Her flowery scent still lingers in his chambers, and instead of calming him down as it usually does, it is starting to give him a headache, taunting him as if she is still in the room with him. He pictures how the scene could have happened—how it should have proceeded…with Florentia kissing him back, with equal desire and passion. Her hands gliding along his body, his chest. The flutters of his stomach when her hands cradle his cheeks, sliding them down to disrobe him before setting him down on his bed. Then, he feistily tosses her over so he is on top, rips her clothes off, and greedily takes her there and then, feeling how tight and wet she is. All for him.

Gods, he cannot even think straight. His cock reacts to his dirty thoughts which leaves him flustered and irate at the situation. No concubine can cure this.

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

Part 2 soon. 🤞

THIS WAS TENSE ASF. (it gets worse)

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Chordata - Chondrichthyes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Chondrichthyes is a class of jawed fish, commonly called “cartilaginous fish” due to their skeletons composed mainly of cartilage, making them distinct from all other vertebrates. They are comprised of the superorders Selachimorpha (“Sharks”), Batoidea (“Rays”), and Holocephalimorpha (“Chimaeras”).

Chondrichthyans breath through gills but lack opercula (gill coverings) and swim bladders. They have paired fins, paired nares (nostrils), and placoid (tooth-shaped) scales (except for electric rays, which have loose, soft skin). These placoid scales, also called dermal denticles, provide protection and streamlining, giving the animal’s skin a sandpaper-y feel. All chondrichthyans breathe through five to seven pairs of gills, depending on the species. As a general rule, pelagic species usually must keep swimming to keep oxygenated water moving through their gills, while demersal species can actively pump water in through their spiracles (a small hole or slit behind each eye) and out through their gills. Most larger, pelagic species no longer have spiracles. Chondrichthyans have many sensory organs to perceive the world around them. Their nostrils are attached to powerful olfactory organs. Around their face are a network of electroreceptors called Ampullae of Lorenzini, which allow them to sense electrical fields. Their lateral line has modified epithelial cells which sense motion, vibration, and pressure in the water around them. However, their sound-detecting apparatus has limited range and is typically more powerful at lower frequencies. Some species have electricity-producing organs which can be used for defense and predation. Chondrichthyans have a diverse array of shapes and sizes, ranging from the 10 cm (3.9 in) long, electric Finless Sleeper Ray (Temera hardwickii) to the over 10 m (33 ft) long Whale Shark (Rhincodon typus). All species are carnivores: some predatory, some ambush-hunters, and some filter-feeders. At least one species is omnivorous. Chondrichthyans have internal fertilization and most species give live birth, while some lay eggs. There is no parental care after birth, though some chondrichthyans do guard their eggs.

Chondrichthyans are considered to have evolved from Acanthodians, which appear from the Early Silurian. The first sharks began to evolve in the Devonian Period, though, while often claimed to be relatively unchanged, modern forms did not start appearing until the Early Jurassic.

Propaganda under the cut:

Mentioned briefly above, the Bonnethead Shark (Sphyrna tiburo), a small species of hammerhead, is the only shark known to be omnivorous. While it feeds on crustaceans, molluscs, and small fish, it also ingests large amounts of seagrass, which has been found to make up around 62% of gut content mass.

Also mentioned briefly above, Electric Rays (order Torpediniformes) are known for being capable of producing an electric discharge, ranging from 8 to 220 volts, depending on species, used to stun prey and for defense.

There are over 500 different species of sharks, and only a dozen could be considered dangerous to humans. That being said, of those 12, most do not seem to like the taste of human flesh, and bites are usually accidental or exploratory.

Many pelagic chondrichthyans occasionally breach, leaping out of the water. This can be done for hunting purposes, as a mating ritual, to shake off parasites, or even just for fun!

Today, all species of Sawfish (family Pristidae) are critically endangered. However, they were relatively common in the Cretaceous, where they were likely a common food source for Spinosaurus.

(Confusingly, Sawfish are a type of ray while Sawsharks (order Pristiophoriformes) are a type of shark. Sawsharks live in the deep sea and are rarely seen, while sawfish live in coastal and brackish waters.)

Kitefin Sharks (family Dalatiidae) have bioluminescent organs which glow blue in the dark

Chimaeras have a strange pair of teeth in their lower jaw which look like rodent incisors, giving them the common names “ratfish” or “rabbitfish.”

Great White Sharks (Carcharodon carcharias) are regularly hunted by orcas, and when one is confronted by an orca it will generally flee and not return to that area for up to a year.

Manta Rays (genus Mobula) are incredibly smart. They were the first “fish” in the world to pass the “mirror test” (ie show self-awareness by recognizing themselves in a mirror rather than seeing the reflected image as another manta ray). They also have highly-developed long-term memory, form friendships, and play with each other by blowing bubbles and breaching out of the water.

[revelboo]

Ooooooooh... I usually don't have many thoughts about prowl, just never paid much attention to him, but your posts make it so hard to feel normal about him I think you've awaken something in me, help!!!

He’s pretty fun to write as a jerk

Stand Too Close Pt 3

Prowl x Reader

• Like a sparkling sulking, you’re avoiding him and that’s fine. There’s always reports to work up, his task list a living thing that’s always growing. Except he can’t focus, rereading the same paragraph over and over. It’s the silence, he realizes in frustration. Somehow he’s gotten used to the soft sounds of you wandering about on his desk being a nuisance. Touching things just to annoy him. How did you become white noise that he needs to focus? Shoving up from his desk, he vents. How far could you have gotten?

• Only halfway listening as Bumblebee talks about a potential energon mine to two other Autobots, you lean into Bee’s hand to savor how warm he is. And there’s no angry tension here. Unlike the jerk you’d been stuck with, these guys seem to be friends. Joking and laughing. Occasionally remembering you and asking a question so you’re involved in the conversation. Listening to them, your thoughts turn unwillingly to Prowl. There’s never any other Cybertronians coming to visit him. No one joking with him, because apparently it’s not just xenophobia. He’s just a jerk to everyone and they all avoid him. It should be funny, but it doesn’t quite sit right somehow. Always alone. Always angry. Realizing you feel kind of bad for him only annoys you.

• It’s not like he hadn’t known that temperatures optimal for Cybertronians are too cold for humans. He’d heard Wheeljack mention it to Sideswipe once in passing, the young bot pestering for information on humans. Seeming fascinated when Wheeljack mentions that his will curl against him because he’s always warmer than they are, seeking his body heat constantly. You’ve never willingly came to him, though, and he’d not really thought much of it. Maybe the cold hadn’t bothered you. But thinking about it, he has seen you shivering before. Never complaining about it, just glaring at him whenever you notice him watching you. Cold and unwilling to approach him.

• Apparently, you just hate him more than you want to be warm, because there you are. Bumblebee’s laid his arm on the table, palm cupped slightly as he talks to Hound and Trailbreaker. And you’re sitting in the younger scout’s palm, leaning into his servos and his warmth. It shouldn’t bother him, the dislike is mutual and has been since he accidentally clipped you. He didn’t want to be stuck with you and, as you’re so fond of pointing out, he ruined your life. It shouldn’t bother him. Definitely shouldn’t light through him in a furious wash of what can’t possibly be jealousy. Almost absently, Bumblebee curls a servo to stroke down your arm and you relax further in the grip. Expression relaxed, not angry for once. He’s never seen you like that.

• “Bumblebee.” No, not yet. Groaning at that too familiar voice, you look over at the same time Bumblebee does and there’s Prowl, those optics pure ice as he just stares at you in Bee’s palm. “Thank you for watching over the human,” Prowl growls the words, sounding almost like they’re catching in his throat and he’s definitely mad. Fantastic. Fidgeting, Bumblebee looks almost unsure as Prowl holds out a hand in demand. Like he isn’t sure he should hand you over. Sighing, you grab one of his servos to pull yourself up and walk to the edge of the table waiting to be snatched up too roughly, because you made him come look for you. It’s a surprise when he lays his hand down instead, asking you wordlessly to come to him willingly. His expression is still tight with anger when you glance up before relenting. Maybe he just doesn’t want to yell at you here in front of witnesses.

• He flexes his servos as you climb into his palm and sit down so he can lift you. Eyes on his palm, your little shoulders hunch as he begins to walk. “Well?” You ask, sounding tired. Shifting his palm slowly once he’s out of sight of the others, he cups it and your little frame against his chassis the way he’s seen Wheeljack do. You don’t relax against him, though, slapping a palm against him and pushing at him like you think he’s trying to crush you. You really do hate him. It doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t.

Previous

Next

[demonic0angel]

Just saw your phantom family in uniform art (looks as majestic as usual) can we have some wraith x nightwing?? Just them flirting and kicking ass together <33

(Hell yeah >:D Glad you enjoy it!)

Wraith hummed cheerfully as he sat on the edge of the roof overlooking the alley where Nightwing was pummeling some gang members. He seemed to be in a bad mood with how curt his one-liners were, but he was still ridiculously flamboyant as he flipped and somersaulted to beat people up.

Yes, it would be a good day today.

When he noticed Wraith, he paused before calling out in a snappy tone, “Are you going to sit there all night? Or come down and give me a hand?”

Wraith smirked. Their relationship used to be frosty, with Wraith uncharacteristically reaching out over and over to poke at Nightwing’s buttons, but now it seemed amicable. Sometimes, Nightwing stared at him with an unreadable look that Wraith didn’t know how to react to, but over all, he had fun when he was around him.

“Ohh? Well, what are you going to give me in exchange, little hero? My help isn’t cheap.”

That indecipherable look was back on Nightwing’s face before he said, “I’ll buy you dinner at the new restaurant on XXX street.”

“Hmm… deal.” Wraith did not ask for much. If anyone else asked for his help, he would’ve refused or probably extorted every single penny in their bank accounts before even considering the ask, but Nightwing was not just anybody and he was so pleasant to be around that even when he used to try to drive him away in the beginning, he had still stayed.

Wraith dropped down and blasted an opponent with a weak ray to slam them against the wall. Realizing that Nightwing had a helper, the gang members burst into a run and escaped.

Nightwing watched them as he caught his breath and Wraith turned to look at him. “So? Shall we follow them?”

“Yeah. You can sense them right? And lead us to them?”

Wraith nodded with a sharp smile and Nightwing grinned at him. It made him feel pleasant. In this world full of disgusting humans, only Nightwing and his sisters were people who he liked. (The rating on his brother/younger self was still pending.)

They waited for a few moments, tying up the knocked down criminals for the police to find before Nightwing looked at Wraith with an easy smile. “Ready to sniff ‘em out?”

“Hmph. This’ll be easy. You could’ve brought out a nose-blind cat and they’d still be able to find them in an instant,” Wraith said with a sigh, thinking of the smell of the criminals.

Nightwing laughed though, so all was well.

Wraith then went off to find the escapees. The scent of their souls were uninteresting, unappealing, and even disgusting in their blandness. Their general smell was just nasty. Wraith, however, disliked disappointing Nightwing and so he persisted and led them right to the criminal’s hideout.

“No killing,” Nightwing said absentmindedly, as he took out his escrima sticks. They crackled with energy, lighting up the blue that lined Nightwing’s suit.

Wraith huffed. “Fine. You’re boring.”

“Ohh? If I’m so boring, then let’s make a bet. If I defeat more people than you, then you’ll pay for dessert, alright?” Nightwing smirked. “And I get to order double.”

Wraith perked up with the incentive. “You can’t beat me,” he said, but Nightwing was rarely so playful with him. He seemed to be in a good mood now. “I’ll win.”

“We’ll see,” Nightwing said pleasantly, and then they both kicked down the doors, startling the gang members.

“Crap! It’s Nightwing and Wraith!”

Wraith frowned for a moment, wondering why they seemed to fit together too well, but Nightwing threw himself into the fray and Wraith was quick to follow with a feral grin.

Fighting side by side with Nightwing was an amazing experience. Wraith loved it. It felt better than being alone with only Fright Knight by his side, killing whoever he wanted and terrorizing the masses just because he could. With Nightwing, it was easier to remember how he used to be a hero.

Wraith’s eyes caught the bright blue that flashed out of the corner of his vision, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but think that his sisters would’ve been proud of him for finding such a kind, gentle, and powerful soul.

Yes, it would be another good night with Nightwing.

[ddodol]

drinking with riize ! headcanons

content warning ⭑.ᐟ alcohol mentions for sure, this is so pg-13 aside from the alcohol don't even worry, established relationship. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.2k+

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can handle their alcohol

shotaro: if you were drinking with him, whether it’s outside or in the comforts of your own place, he’d always make sure not to drink too much. shotaro knows his limits and he can reel himself in when he knows that he’s starting to get tipsy. if it were any other occasion where you’re celebrating something, then he’d most likely let himself go for a little bit. he would still keep his eyes on you while making sure that he’s matching your excitement and energy.

i like to think that shotaro would be in the mood once he’s gotten a bit tipsy, especially since you're in his company. it’s something he tries to hold back on when he’s sober so when he’s drunk, he’d be more free and bold only if you let him. if he wasn’t being touchy, you’d know by the way he looks at you, eyelids heavy and eyes flickering up and down. he’d be eating you up with his gaze, making you giggle at how obvious he was being.

seunghan: honestly, he’s probably one of the few that could hold actually their alcohol in this group. seunghan would have no problem matching you, clinking glasses or beer cans with you as you drink. you might even get tipsy before him and once you do, he’d tease you affectionately. seunghan would know your tolerance better than you do, subtly taking away your glass once he hears the slightest bit of slurring in your words. he’d be poking fun at you while also checking how drunk you actually are, laughing when you confirm his suspicions.

on the very rare occasion that you catch seunghan drunk, he’d probably be quiet for the first time ever. he’d be touchy and sleepy, resting his face against your neck and breathing in your scent until he falls asleep. he’d whine and complain if you move or leave him, having a sixth sense only for that.

anton: he’s most likely to be one of the few members that can handle their alcohol and be excited when you first ask. anton would be feeling playful, excited with the thought of drinking with you. he would make sure he pays attention to you, wanting to know what kind of face you’d make while drinking or what flavors you like and dislike. these are things he’d keep in mind and would think about when he’s out shopping for alcoholic drinks, picking a bottle up impulsively because he remembered how adorable you looked when you had a sip of it.

while anton has average tolerance, the chances of him tearing up are never zero. he’d be listening to you talk and his thoughts would wander, thinking about how lucky he was to have you. he wouldn’t cry even though he gets emotional easily but if you were the type to cry when drunk, then you’d both be crying in the middle of drinking. anton would try his best to be there for you, though, comforting you before taking care of himself.

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they're cute so it's okay

eunseok: two words: pink cheeks. he’d be flushed all over with just one shot and he doesn’t even need to be drunk or tipsy. eunseok would be cuter than usual, voice would probably be brighter because of how happy he just is. you’d catch him staring at you way longer than he should, a cute smile on his lips as he traces his eyes over your drunken features as if he was trying to memorize them. he’d be thinking about how adorable you were even if you were rambling about some nonsense. he’s the type to let you embarrass yourself, so you can count on horrifying recollections the day after as he helps you jog your memories, laughing at you.

drunk eunseok would probably be the type to get sentimental, like if you were dating for a long time he’d randomly bring up a very specific memory only he remembers, or maybe even declare his love to you in a very serious manner. he would still remember everything the day after, but if he did or said something embarrassing then he’d act like he doesn’t and he’d keep the act up until you’re convinced in a poor attempt to erase whatever it was that he did.

sohee: drinking with sohee would be so much fun even if it’s just the two of you. he’d suggest these silly games you two could play, you would be laughing and fooling around until the alcohol wears you down. he would always triple check if you could handle another punishment shot, otherwise he’d lose on purpose just so you wouldn’t drink too much. he’d make sure to take care of you once you’re all spent, letting you rest on his shoulder as he hums or whistles a song.

drunk sohee would be more sincere and affectionate than usual, showering you with words of affection while thanking you for everything you’ve done for him. he wouldn’t exactly cry; if anyone were to cry, it’d be you because of how sweet his words were. these are things he’d never admit to your face while sober and he’d be pouring his heart out as he stares into your eyes.

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messy drunk

sungchan: since he’s a certified lightweight, sungchan would most likely take his time drinking. if you insisted on it, he’d cave in and just join your company. once he’s sure that you were enjoying yourself, he’d start drinking with you in small sips because he still wants to enjoy the moment but would also make sure that he’d be able to take care of you afterwards.

now, if he were to come home from a company dinner completely drunk, he’d be more affectionate and touchy than he already is. sungchan would be all over you, mumbling about how much he loves you or how you smell good or how your hair was still a little wet or apologizing for being so heavy while you’re dragging him back home. he could yap on and on about whatever comes across his mind and eighty percent of that is just about you and how he thought you looked cute in that one outfit you wore during your first date as if he hasn’t complimented you enough on it.

wonbin: now hear me out— i don’t think wonbin can handle his alcohol well. i don’t even think he’s drank a lot considering how he’s a homebody. he would be cautious when drinking with you, wanting to hide the fact that he’s a bit intimidated by alcohol, snacking on some food while you were drinking. once he manages to relax, he’d be more talkative and giggly. he would forget about how intimidating the alcohol is and just enjoy your company, accidentally drinking too fast.

drunk wonbin would still want to prioritize you even if he was more shitfaced than you are. he would not be able to keep his hands to himself, pressing his limp body against yours while he whines about how you have to stop drinking before you get drunk. wonbin would be the type to just stare at you blankly, lips slowly curling into a smile when you look back at him in confusion. he’d be very vulnerable, asking you about stuff he’s been thinking about for a while now. you would have to shower him with affection, patting his head or playing with his hair while reassuring him that he’s doing great.

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[crazilust]

My thoughts on these placements

based on my last lover. PSA: this might be biased. don’t take it TOO seriously, it’s mostly for me to purge this relationship. LETS GOOOOOOO !!

1. Gemini rising

Have you ever felt hella special to someone and then you see them interact with someone else and you’re like “oh. i’m… i’m just another one of their friends.” this is what it feels to be around a gemini rising sometimes. most of the ones I know, are either extremely popular, know alot of people or at the very least just hang out regularly with a bunch of people (might just be colleagues and not necessarily friends but they’re often surrounded). And they have this way of making you feel special, and funny and entertaining but most of the times, they’re the ones controlling the discussion and the flow of it.

when it came to my ex, he knew so many people and every person he was interacting with, he knew a little detail about them, and it made the person care so much about him. Even though he didn’t as much. Somewhat flimsy, it’s hard to know a Gemini rising’ true intentions with you.

2. Sagittarius sun

Sags don’t have the best reputation in my book, and he certainly didn’t help the stereotypes. The thing with Sags sun that I find hard to understand is the constant lie they have between who they truly are and who they want to be. It’s a constant battle of “don’t look too hard into my flaws bc soon enough I’ll be this grandiose super star and therefore you can forget about the awkward nerd you have in front of you.” Most of them are nerds, truly. But they hate it. As opposed to Aquarius sun’s desire to be different and their ability to stand on their two feet even tho they’re being outcast, a Sag sun’s deepest fear is to be seen as the weirdo they are. (that unfortunately they associated with being a loser)

If you’ve never been close with a Sag, you’ll be the first to deny this claim. “What?? The Sag I met was THE life of the party! No weirdo here.” or “The Sag I met was a boss ass btch, she had everything under control and very educated!!”

And that, my friends, is what we call a front. Sure, they can be the life of the party, usually very keen on getting their diplomas, but if you don’t know them, that’s the only part of them you’ll get to see cause it’s the part they deem acceptable.

I’m not even gonna comment on the commitment issues, cause yall… you know it already lmao.

3. Virgo moon

Nobody hates an underdeveloped virgo moon more than they hate themselves. So critical, judgemental and harsh. They notice absolutely everything that you do and instead of going to you and confront you about the issue, they’ll keep it in, and throw it back to your face the minute it’s convenient for them (when they effed up). Very hard to love because they simply can’t accept that you love and accept their own flaws. I remember my ex asking me litteraly all the time “How can you love me if I’m not as pretty as before” (it was in his head, he was just as cute) “How can you love me if I don’t have a job?” (He had lost his job for only 2 months at that point) No matter what I’d say, he couldn’t believe that I loved him wholeheartedly, no matter what.

Sometimes, when I look at a virgo moon, unevolved ofc, all I can see is pain. Virgo is an already hard sign to have imo (sorry!) but in the moon placement, it’s just sad. These natives are so harsh on themselves and accept no help whatsoever. And if you do try, they’ll do everything to push you away and trust me, one thing Virgos do is succeed.

4. Libra Mars

As a scorpio mars, libra mars is not my favorite placement. But as I checked my vedic chart and I do, in fact, have a libra mars, I hate that I understand why they act the way they do.

They care so much about everything being perfect, everyone getting along and most importantly being at peace with the ones they love. The cliches are true for a reason, they dislike conflict and yes, are passive agressive but it’s because they don’t want to lose the people they love with petty drama.

So they don’t say anything, and they accomodate even tho that one thing irritated them and then when you confront them about something, they bring you everything you’ve done wrong for the past six months. That’s the part I hate, ofc, but I also hate that I get it.

I get it. They’re the biggest people pleasers and when they don’t say anything about something that upsets them, they actually think they’re doing it for the greater good. They obviously analyse everything you’re doing wrong, but they don’t mind not saying it cause they’d rather be at peace with you. So how dare you don’t do the same for them?

That’s the mentality. Unfortunately for them, it brings bigger conflict because then you feel betrayed they never said anything to begin with. UGH.

SPEAK YOUR MIND, Libras of any placements actually <3

5. Sagittarius Mercury

If you consider yourself soft, delicate, sensitive, do not date a Sag mercury. These people are ruthless. As friends, I find them hilarious and fun to be around, but as lovers I would never do that to myself again. Just never <3. They are very blunt (which doesn’t mean they won’t lie! We’re talking about a Jupiter ruled sign here yall), but in a way that won’t make you feel good about yourself. They’ll often use humour to attack you and then use it as a shield the moment you call them out on it (i.e : It was just a jokeeeeee!)

Gives very good advice, I’ll give them that. I think sometimes I can have a little bit of tunnel vision and with Sag mercuries, they’re able to tap you on the shoulder and be like “Have you consider this tho?” in the most casual way and you’re like “oh.. no. yes. you’re right”

6. Aquarius Venus

If you love the friends to lovers trope, you’ll just love dating an Aquarius venus because that friendship-like relationship will be the foundation of your dynamic. Everything feels fun, the complicity is at an all time high.

But the commitment.

Now, I’ve read multiple times here that Aquarius venus is actually very committed to the person they love when they like you. Well, I guess I wasn’t his person cause I only felt the commitment phobia.

Anyways, I still loved the dynamic of the relationship, but I can’t lie, it didn’t feel serious at all.

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Well that’s all for me, today. Love yall!!

Remember, these are the big 6 of my ex so it is biased nothing to take too personal but if it applies and resonates, great💛

B.