#Honing Concentration Skills

[spirefan]

From "one more video" to playing Super Smash Bros. for five more minutes during study time, it's easy to cater to our child ego state when high-life priorities are in our current situation. And even if we can't see it now, let's talk on this warming Monday about how honing self-control skills with structured breaks will help us not only for the project due tomorrow but also for getting us ready to catch the many curveballs life can throw at us down the road:

[hisbutleronhiatus]

It has been 304 days since the Kuroshitsuji hiatus was announced.

Sebastian, Agni, Wolfram, Hannah, Claude, Tanaka, and (despite considerable reservations on the Phantomhive butler’s part) Bardroy are pooling their culinary expertise to write a cookbook featuring a compilation of recipes for their young charges’ favorite dishes. Even Auntie Grelle pitched in with a submission or two; according to the mortal butlers, her cherry cheesecake is delectable!

[duskdog]

There's something extra-gross about having those AICupid ads with the anime loli girls (often in various degrees of sexual poses and/or bondage) showing up in the Mia tag.

Like yeah it's gross that they show up everywhere else, too, but there specifically? Really?

[hurtblossom]

Crush ln4

Pairing : Lando Norris x Female!Reader

Summary : Quadrant has a new videographer

Warnings : Angst, quite long, bad english, Lando being clueless (as always)

(Y/N) couldn’t believe she was here—working for Quadrant, his brand. When she’d gotten the offer, she had hesitated for a moment, unsure if being this close to Lando Norris would be a good idea. She’d been a fan of his for years, following his career from his early F1 days, her admiration growing with every race and every glimpse of his playful, goofy personality online. Somewhere along the way, admiration had turned into something more—a quiet, unspoken crush she’d never dreamed of acting on.

But when the opportunity to join Quadrant as a videographer came up, she couldn’t resist. It was a chance to work with an incredible team, hone her skills, and, well, maybe get to know Lando a little better. Not that he’d notice her, she thought wryly. Lando Norris didn’t seem like the type to look twice at someone like her.

Her first day on set, she was practically buzzing with nerves. Max had introduced her to the team, and everyone had been friendly, welcoming her into the fold. But Lando? He hadn’t even glanced her way. Too busy cracking jokes with Max and Ria, his energy filling the room like a spotlight she could never step into.

Still, she stayed in the background, focusing on her work, capturing the chaos of the group with her camera. That was her job, after all—to be invisible, to let the team shine while she stayed behind the lens. She told herself it was better this way. No awkward introductions, no chance to embarrass herself. But even as she worked, she couldn’t help stealing glances at him, her heart skipping every time he laughed or flashed that signature grin.

The shoot that day was arcade basketball, and the Quadrant crew was in rare form—teasing, shouting, and turning everything into a competition. Lando was at the center of it all, of course, trash-talking Max one second and tossing a ball wildly off-target the next. (Y/N) stayed behind her camera, quietly capturing every moment, trying not to let her smile show too much.

It wasn’t until halfway through the shoot that Lando finally noticed her.

“Who’s that?” he asked loudly, pointing at her mid-throw. The basketball clattered off the rim as the rest of the group burst into laughter.

Max rolled his eyes. “She’s been here all day, mate. That’s (Y/N). She’s our new videographer.”

“New videographer?” Lando repeated, his brow furrowing. He walked over, tossing the ball to the side. “And no one told me?”

“I assumed you’d notice,” Max shot back with a grin.

Lando ignored him, stopping in front of her with an apologetic smile. “Hi. Sorry about that. I’m Lando. Welcome to Quadrant.”

She swallowed hard, clutching the camera like a lifeline. Up close, he was even more magnetic, his warm eyes and easy smile making her heart race. “Hi. I’m (Y/N),” she managed, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

“You’ve been filming this whole time?” he asked, tilting his head. “Wow, I didn’t even notice. That’s impressive.”

She blushed, ducking her head. “That’s kind of the goal.”

Lando chuckled. “Fair enough. Well, glad to have you. Hope you’re ready for this lot—they’re a handful.”

“She’s already handling it better than you would,” Ria teased, earning another round of laughter.

(Y/N) smiled, relaxing slightly as the group’s banter filled the room again. But as Lando walked back to his game, she couldn’t help feeling the way her cheeks burned, her mind replaying the brief moment they’d shared.

The rest of the shoot went smoothly, but (Y/N) found it increasingly hard to concentrate with Lando in her peripheral vision. Every joke he cracked, every time he glanced her way, she felt her heart skip a beat. She knew she was being ridiculous—he was just being friendly, just doing his job. But still, she couldn’t shake the tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something more.

After the shoot, as the team started packing up, Lando approached her again. “Hey, (Y/N),” he said casually, hands in his pockets. “Thanks for today. You did great.”

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling up at him. “You guys made it easy. You’re all… pretty entertaining.”

He grinned. “Entertaining, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

She laughed softly, feeling a bit bolder. “Well, I’ve seen worse basketball skills, if that helps.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wow. First day and already roasting me. I like it.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she smiled back, her nerves melting under his playful energy. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room, the rest of the team fading into the background. But then Max called out, breaking the moment, and Lando gave her a quick nod before heading off, leaving her heart racing.

In the weeks that followed, (Y/N) settled into her role, quickly becoming an integral part of the team. She captured every wild moment, every inside joke, and every ridiculous stunt with precision, earning praise from everyone—including Lando. But the more time she spent around him, the harder it became to ignore her feelings.

He was just so… him. Funny, charming, effortlessly confident. She found herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t control, her quiet admiration growing with every shared laugh and fleeting glance.

But she kept her feelings hidden, afraid of what might happen if he found out. To him, she was just the camera girl, part of the team but always on the edges. And she told herself that was enough, even as her heart ached for more.

One evening, after a long day of filming, the team had dispersed, leaving just her and Lando in the studio. She was reviewing footage on her laptop when he wandered over, leaning against the table beside her.

“Got anything good?” he asked, peering at the screen.

She smiled, tilting the laptop so he could see. “Plenty of missed shots and bad jokes. Pretty standard.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “That’s Quadrant for you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the footage play. But then Lando turned to her, his expression softer than usual. “You’ve been doing an amazing job, you know. I don’t think we’ve said that enough.”

Her heart fluttered at his words. “Thanks, Lando. That means a lot.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re really good at this, (Y/N). And… I’m glad you’re here.”

The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise, and she felt her cheeks warm under his gaze. She wanted to say something, to tell him how much his words meant, but the lump in her throat stopped her.

Instead, she smiled, her voice soft. “Thanks. I’m glad to be here.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, the air between them thick with unspoken words. But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed, and Lando leaned back, flashing her a grin. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to it. Don’t make me look too bad in the edits, yeah?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No promises.”

As he walked away, her heart swelled with both happiness and longing. She knew she couldn’t let herself hope for more—not yet. But for now, she was content to stay behind the lens, capturing every moment, every laugh, every smile, knowing that even if he didn’t see her the way she saw him, at least she could be a part of his world.

Weeks had passed since (Y/N) had joined Quadrant, and every day felt like a mix of joy and heartbreak. Working alongside Lando was everything she’d dreamed of—he was kind, funny, and always made her feel like a part of the team. But the more time she spent with him, the more her crush deepened, and with it, the painful realization that he didn’t see her that way.

Still, she told herself it didn’t matter. Being close to him, even as just a colleague, was enough. Or at least, that’s what she kept repeating.

The team was gearing up for another shoot, and (Y/N) was already busy setting up the cameras and mics. Lando was running late, as usual, and the rest of the group was milling around, chatting and joking. When Lando finally arrived, he wasn’t alone.

“Guys, this is Magui,” he announced, stepping into the room with a confident grin. The girl beside him was striking—beautiful, with long, wavy hair and a radiant smile that seemed to light up the room. “She’s joining us for today’s video.”

(Y/N)’s heart sank the moment she saw them. Magui was clearly close to Lando; the way he stood next to her, the ease of their laughter, the little glances they exchanged—it was painfully obvious.

Max raised an eyebrow. “New guest star, huh? Fancy.”

Magui laughed, her voice warm and melodic. “I’m just here to make sure Lando doesn’t embarrass himself too much.”

“Good luck with that,” Ria quipped, earning a round of laughter.

(Y/N) forced a smile, keeping her head down as she fiddled with her equipment. Her chest felt tight, but she told herself it was nothing. Lando was free to bring whoever he wanted into the group—it wasn’t like she had any claim on him. But as she watched them banter, the way Lando’s face lit up every time Magui said something, the ache in her heart grew.

The video shoot was a nightmare for (Y/N). Not because of technical issues—everything went smoothly on that front—but because every moment felt like a knife twisting in her chest. Lando and Magui were front and center, their chemistry undeniable as they joked and competed with the rest of the team. Magui fit in effortlessly, her charisma matching Lando’s energy in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“Magui, you’ve got to beat him at this,” Max called out during one of the challenges, handing her the controller.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Magui said, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve got this.”

Lando laughed, leaning closer to her. “You think you can beat me? Good luck.”

Watching them, (Y/N) felt like an outsider. She stayed behind the camera, filming their interactions, capturing the moments that everyone else would find entertaining—but for her, it was torture. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like if she were the one standing next to him, sharing those laughs, being the one to catch his attention.

When the shoot finally wrapped up, (Y/N) was the first to start packing up her gear. She wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, before anyone noticed the strain on her face.

But as she was putting away the last of her equipment, Lando approached her, his usual grin in place. “Hey, (Y/N), thanks for today. You made us all look good as always.”

She forced a smile, avoiding his gaze. “Just doing my job.”

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice clipped. “Just tired.”

Lando frowned, clearly not convinced, but before he could press further, Magui called out to him from across the room. “Lando! Come on, we’re heading out!”

He glanced back at (Y/N), hesitating for a moment before nodding. “Alright. See you later?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, watching as he walked away, his attention already back on Magui.

As the door closed behind them, (Y/N) sank into her chair, her hands trembling slightly. She told herself it was silly to feel this way, that she was just reading too much into things. But the truth was undeniable: she had fallen for Lando, and watching him with someone else felt like her heart was breaking in slow motion.

That night, (Y/N) sat in her small apartment, staring at the footage she’d captured earlier. She watched as Lando and Magui laughed, the way he looked at her with an ease and warmth that he’d never shown (Y/N). Her chest ached as she replayed the clips, over and over, the reality of the situation sinking in.

Lando didn’t see her. Not the way she wanted him to. To him, she was just the camera girl, the one who stayed in the background, capturing the moments that made him shine. And while she was proud of her work, proud to be a part of the team, she couldn’t help but feel invisible.

The next day, the Quadrant group chat was buzzing with messages about the next video, everyone chiming in with ideas and suggestions. Lando sent a message saying he wanted to bring Magui back for another shoot, and the rest of the team seemed thrilled.

(Y/N) stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She wanted to be happy for him, to support him the way she always had. But the thought of watching them together again, of filming moments that felt like they were cutting her open from the inside, was almost too much to bear.

Before she could overthink it, she typed out a quick message: “I’m feeling under the weather. Might need to sit this one out.”

Lando responded almost immediately. “That’s okay! Rest up. We’ll handle it.”

His words were kind, but they only made her feel worse. She wanted him to notice, to ask her what was wrong, to care. But he didn’t. And that, more than anything, told her what she needed to know.

As she set her phone down, tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. She’d known from the start that her crush on Lando was one-sided, but seeing it play out so clearly, so painfully, made it impossible to ignore.

For now, all she could do was step back, focus on her work, and remind herself that sometimes, even when you care deeply about someone, the best thing you can do is let them go.

~~~

(Y/N) took the next few days off, staying away from the group chat and ignoring messages from the team. She needed space—not just from Lando, but from the whole world of Quadrant that revolved around him. She threw herself into editing past footage, focusing on the technical details to distract herself from the pain still lodged in her chest.

But avoiding Lando was harder than she thought. Every video she edited, every laugh and playful insult she clipped together, reminded her of him. Of the warmth he brought into every room, of the little sparks of kindness he’d shown her when she thought, for just a moment, that he might see her as more than the girl behind the camera.

Two Weeks Later

(Y/N) was back on set, quietly filming another chaotic Quadrant shoot. Magui was there again, her presence bright and cheerful as always. She was every bit as perfect as (Y/N) had remembered—funny, confident, and effortlessly charming. And Lando? He seemed happier than ever, his energy electric whenever Magui was around.

(Y/N) did her best to stay in the background, focusing on her work and keeping her distance. But it didn’t take long for Lando to notice.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he called out during a break, jogging over to her as the others grabbed drinks. “You okay? You’ve been really quiet lately.”

She forced a smile, adjusting her camera to avoid looking at him directly. “I’m fine. Just busy.”

“Busy?” he repeated, frowning slightly. “You’ve barely said a word to anyone. Did I do something wrong?”

Her heart twisted at the concern in his voice. Of course, Lando would think it was about him, but not for the reason he’d assume. She shook her head quickly. “No, you didn’t do anything. I’ve just… had a lot on my mind.”

Lando studied her, his brows furrowing. “Are you sure? Because if there’s something bothering you, you can tell me.”

The sincerity in his tone made her throat tighten. She wanted to tell him—wanted to say everything she’d been holding back. But as she looked at him, his eyes filled with concern, she knew she couldn’t. He wasn’t hers to confide in. He never had been.

“I’m fine, Lando,” she said softly. “Really.”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced, but before he could press further, Magui called out to him, waving him over. He glanced back at (Y/N), looking like he wanted to say more, but then turned and jogged toward Magui, his smile lighting up as he joined her.

(Y/N) watched them from behind the camera, the ache in her chest spreading like wildfire. She felt silly, pathetic even, for letting this affect her so much. But no matter how hard she tried to push it down, the pain refused to fade.

Later That Evening

The shoot had wrapped, and (Y/N) stayed behind to pack up her equipment while the others headed out for dinner. She’d made an excuse about needing to finish editing, though in truth, she just couldn’t bear to sit across from Lando and Magui, pretending everything was fine.

The studio was quiet, the only sound the hum of her laptop as she loaded the footage from the day. She tried to focus, but her mind kept drifting, the weight of everything she felt pressing down on her.

“Still here?”

The voice startled her, and she turned to see Lando standing in the doorway, his hoodie pulled up, his hair slightly messy from the day. He looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“I thought you were going to dinner with the others,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, stepping inside. “I was, but… I wanted to check on you first.”

She swallowed hard, looking down at her laptop. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” he said, leaning against the table beside her. “But I don’t believe you.”

His words made her chest tighten, and she felt the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill. She shook her head, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s nothing, Lando. Really. I’m just… tired.”

“(Y/N),” he said softly, his tone gentle but insistent. “Talk to me. Please.”

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, she considered telling him everything. But the thought of his reaction—of the awkwardness, the pity, the possibility of losing what little connection they had—stopped her.

“It’s not something you need to worry about,” she said instead, her voice cracking slightly. “Just… let it go.”

He didn’t move, his eyes searching hers, and for a moment, she thought he might push further. But then he nodded, stepping back. “Okay,” he said quietly. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

She watched as he left, the door closing softly behind him. And as the silence settled over her once again, the tears finally fell, her heart breaking under the weight of everything she couldn’t say.

A Week Later

The next video shoot was another big one, with the entire team involved, including Magui. (Y/N) tried to focus on her work, but it was harder than ever, especially with Lando and Magui’s playful chemistry on full display.

During a break, (Y/N) stepped outside for some air, her chest feeling tight. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breathing.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Her eyes snapped open to see Lando standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his expression serious.

“I haven’t—”

“You have,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer. “And I don’t know why, but it’s been driving me crazy.”

She looked away, her heart pounding. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Stop saying that,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You’re not fine, (Y/N). I can see it. And if it’s something I did—”

“It’s not you,” she blurted out, cutting him off.

He frowned, confused. “Then what is it?”

She hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them. Instead, she shook her head, forcing a weak smile. “It’s nothing, Lando. Forget it.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his frustration clear. But before he could say anything else, Max called out for him from inside, breaking the moment.

Lando sighed, glancing toward the door. “This isn’t over,” he said softly before walking away.

As she watched him go, (Y/N) felt the weight of her unspoken feelings pressing down on her once again. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up, but one thing was clear: something had to change—whether it was her feelings for Lando or her place in his world.

And as the door closed behind him, she realized that letting go of Lando might be the hardest thing she’d ever have to do.

~~~

The decision didn’t come easily, but (Y/N) knew it was the right one. Every day with Quadrant had become a painful reminder of what she couldn’t have, of the unspoken feelings she carried for Lando and the unshakable knowledge that he didn’t feel the same. Watching him with Magui, seeing how naturally she fit into his world, was more than (Y/N) could handle. It was time to step back, to take care of herself before the weight of it all consumed her.

Reading his words brought tears to her eyes. She’d grown to love the team, their chaotic energy, and even the endless teasing. It wasn’t their fault she’d fallen for someone who didn’t see her the way she saw him. Still, she felt a pang of guilt as she hit send on her final reply.

~~~

She didn’t tell Lando directly. She wasn’t sure how, or if he’d even care. Max said he’d inform the team, and that felt like enough. Packing up her gear and stepping away from the studio for the last time was bittersweet. She lingered in the quiet space, memories of laughter and camaraderie playing in her mind.

As she locked the door behind her, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when Lando found out she was gone. Would he even notice? The thought lingered as she drove home, a mixture of sadness and relief washing over her.

Two Days Later

The first message came from Ria.

Ria: “What’s this about you leaving? Are you okay? Let me know if you need to talk.”

Then Max.

Max: “Hope you’re doing alright. The studio’s not the same without you.”

She responded to each of them, assuring them she was fine, that she just needed time. But the message she was dreading never came. Lando didn’t reach out—not a text, not a call. The silence was deafening, confirming what she’d feared all along: he didn’t notice. Or worse, he didn’t care.

Weeks Passed

(Y/N) threw herself into freelance work, taking on projects that let her focus on her craft without the emotional baggage that came with Quadrant. Slowly, the ache in her chest began to fade. She stopped checking their YouTube channel obsessively, stopped scrolling through photos of Lando and Magui together. She convinced herself that she was moving on.

But one evening, as she was editing late into the night, her phone buzzed with an unexpected notification.

Lando Norris: Hey. Can we talk?

Her heart skipped a beat, her fingers frozen over her keyboard. She stared at the message, a flood of emotions rushing in. She wanted to ignore it, to pretend she hadn’t seen it, but her curiosity—and the tiny flicker of hope she couldn’t extinguish—got the better of her.

(Y/N): Sure. What’s up?

The reply came almost instantly.

Lando: Are you free to meet? I’d rather do this in person.

Her stomach churned with nerves, but she agreed, setting a time and place for the next day. She spent the night replaying every possibility in her mind, trying to prepare herself for whatever he wanted to say.

~~~

They met at a quiet café, tucked away from the usual chaos of their lives. Lando was already there when she arrived, his hat pulled low, his expression uncharacteristically serious. He stood as she approached, offering her a small, hesitant smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Thanks for coming.”

She nodded, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap. “What’s this about, Lando?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Max told me you left.”

Her throat tightened, but she kept her voice steady. “I needed some time.”

“Why?” he asked, leaning forward, his gaze searching hers. “Did something happen? Was it… me?”

The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. She hesitated, unsure how to respond. “It wasn’t you, Lando. Not entirely.”

His brows furrowed. “Then what? You were such a big part of the team, (Y/N). I… I miss having you around.”

Her heart ached at his words, but she forced herself to stay grounded. “It’s complicated.”

“Then explain it to me,” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Because I feel like I missed something, and I don’t want to keep missing it.”

She met his gaze, the weight of everything she’d held back pressing down on her. Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke.

“I liked you, Lando,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I liked you more than I should have, and it made things… hard. Watching you with Magui, being part of the team but always on the outside—it hurt. So I left, because I couldn’t keep doing that to myself.”

His eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face. For a moment, he said nothing, and she braced herself for the rejection she knew was coming.

“I had no idea,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… I thought you just didn’t want to get close.”

She shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I couldn’t get close, Lando. Not when you didn’t see me the way I saw you.”

He leaned back, running a hand over his face. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. And Magui… she’s just a friend. I never realized how it must have looked.”

She blinked, his words taking a moment to register. “Just a friend?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “I didn’t… I don’t feel that way about her. I didn’t even know you felt this way about me.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Lando reached across the table, his hand brushing hers lightly.

“Is it too late to fix this?” he asked softly.

(Y/N) looked at him, her heart torn between hope and fear. She didn’t know the answer, but for the first time in weeks, she felt the faintest spark of possibility. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to rewrite their story.

please comment and let me know what you thought of the story

[trashytoastboi]

Heyyy could I request Zoro, Ace, Crocodile and Doffy with s/o who practices deadly martial arts(Krav Maga, taekwondo etc)

Hello anon! Sure thing- it's been a very long since I've had time to write any requests and the wheel of fate chose your request first. I hope you enjoy ^^

Headcanons: Zoro, Ace, Crocodile, Doflamingo x S/O who practices deadly martial arts

(Gender neutral pronouns)

 

Roronoa Zoro - Brazilian Jiu Jitsu

⚔️ Zoro wasn’t exactly surprised when you went off to do your training, of course he had never seen it. Since you usually decided to do it alone and with full concentration. As someone who could appreciate those who dedicate themselves to their training and honing their craft, it was definitely a fascinating thing to watch. Especially when it’s different from his own training so he tries to see what he can learn from it as well.  

⚔️ He’s interested and he’s seen you use it in actual combat, of course you’re not doing quite as much of the grappling when you don’t have a partner. It leaves him in awe when you easily take down far larger enemies with ease and expert use of your abilities, he knows it would probably be very hard for him to replicate considering that he lacks the necessary flexibility. 

⚔️ You’ve explained that your particular practice allows you to even the playing field and give you an advantage in multiple ways and options to alter the flow of the fight in ways that would be in your favour. In fact you offered for Zoro to spar with you and experience what you mean, and before he could catch himself. He was already on the floor and near subdued. You did everything before he could even react 

⚔️ Colour him impressed, granted both of you know he would have given a greater struggle had it been a real fight. This was more of a demonstration of what you could do though, and honestly Zoro feels reassured knowing his partner can take care of themselves. He’s always seen your dedication to your training and how tirelessly you work to refine your skills. Plus seeing it in action just proves that you’re plenty strong. 

Portgas D. Ace - Taekwondo 

🔥 Ace is a little bit of a lost puppy at times when he doesn’t know where you are, and he loves going off to find you. He’s curious as to what you’re doing and many occasions he walks in while you’re busy training. However, he won’t disturb you. He’ll sit quietly in the room and just marvel at what you’re doing. Ace loves seeing how focused you can be and how if you fail at one move, you practice it again and again to the point of absolute precision. Sometimes you start slow, almost as if moving in slow motion to get used to the flow of a move before doing it faster and faster till it’s flawless. Ace finds your dedication and utmost discipline for your martial arts to be truly admirable. 

🔥 Sometimes you’ll invite Ace to spar with you, and he’s always more than happy. Ace also knows your strength, and your ability to quickly change with the flow of a fight and how you can turn the tides. He follows your lead, and never holds back. Many times he finds himself being the one led along as you dictate the fight in your own way. Through training with you he’s also learned so much about his own fighting style and a reflection of its strengths and weaknesses. 

🔥 Will occasionally use sparring as an opportunity to lean in and steal a quick kiss from you. It’s probably the only time you intentionally let him slip through your defense. While in training it’s light hearted and sweet; Ace has seen you in action during fights against enemies. Whether one on one or when you get swarmed with a horde of enemies you always keep your cool and easily take each and every one of them down. It’s almost comical how easy you make it look. When you’re practicing, it’s controlled and looks calm but he often forgets just how intimidating your fighting style can get when the situation calls for it. 

🔥 Honestly, he just loves how absolutely badass you look when you show off your skills. You’re not cocky or arrogant about your abilities, but you have confidence in them and for good reason. You put in the hard work and practice everyday and you are self assured with your skills. Ace finds it quite an attractive trait in his partner. 

Sir Crocodile - Krav Maga 

🐊 Sir Crocodile held a lot of interest in you. The things you like, the things you practice, and your hobbies. He’s invested even if he knew nothing about it. He always gave you the time of day and a space to share the things that meant a lot to you. One thing that held a lot of meaning to you- is your martial arts. You enjoyed moving your body and increasing your proficiency. It may have started as a way to increase your strength and protect yourself however it grew into more than that. An art as you called it. Of course most people who saw your martial arts could never deny how effective it was, it was not like other martial arts in having a slight bit more of showmanship. Crocodile liked your style, it was effective. The quickest point from A to B with no waste in between.  

🐊 On more than one occasion he’s seen you fight, and it’s both intentional and instinctual. An odd combo but complementary and impressive as he’d always compliment you. He offers to practice with you, although you tell Crocodile he’s being too nonchalant. He always smiles and gives that low tone of laughter. He means no disrespect, he knows your strength however Crocodile refuses to lift his hands with any intent of violence against you. Even if it’s a spar that you asked for. You can’t berate Crocodile for that. On the few occasions when he has sparred with you, it’s mostly being swept into his pace while he practically pulls you into a dance. 

🐊 Though day after day with unwavering dedication you refine yourself and your skills. Crocodile encourages you to take a day off now and then to allow your body to rest and recover from the physical exertion. You tell him it’s just your daily exercise and it helps prevent you from feeling stiff from lack of exercise. Crocodile respects your decision however he will force you to rest if he can see you’re taking it too far and burning yourself out. 

🐊 While Crocodile didn’t wish to accidentally hurt you during sparring that didn’t mean he didn’t help you. You eventually hit a wall when you fought against logia-type devil fruit users like Crocodile so he opted to teach you how to utilize haki and fight on more even grounds. You felt so bad the first time you got it right because you decked Crocodile straight in the face with everything you had. You remember his black eye and everything. He was never angry or upset, more congratulating you on finally getting right. (You still felt so guilty though) 

Donquixote Doflamingo - Muay Thai

🧶 You had no shortage of strong sparring partners, all of which used different fighting styles and some devil fruit users. It improved your skills a lot to fight against a variety, however the most challenging person was your partner, Doflamingo. He never held back, and would use every dirty trick in the book if necessary. Just when you thought you had a breakthrough with one thing, he’d stop you in another way. He loved your determination and no matter how he defeated you, Doflamingo watched you get up time and time again. Of course he’d make it up to you afterwards, he’d be oh so affectionate and teasingly ask if you’re still mad. Of course you weren’t upset, you improved tremendously with every fight. 🧶 Sometimes you’d have solo training sessions, times when you just wanted to train alone and reflect on your moves. You’d go right back to the foundation and the basics. Reciting the practice moves from when you first started and working your way back up to the more complex techniques and moves. Doflamingo quite enjoyed it when you were doing this, he’d sit and watch you for hours. Endlessly entertained but more than that, he’s intrigued to see your growth. He feels it every time the two of you spar, how you shift and change, adapt to him. 

🧶 What Doflamingo loves even more, is watching you in an actual fight. A true do or die setting, that’s when you really shine. Your practice does contribute, however in sparring he finds your instincts dull- you know there’s no risk. However in a real fight that’s not the case and he watches you intently, when you showcase your true abilities and talents. You’re a well honed weapon by your own design, he finds joy and attraction in seeing how you leave your enemies devastated in the face of power. Power that you earned. 

🧶 Of course if you’re in a pinch, he’ll help you out and tease you relentlessly about it. “Fufu, you needed my help after all?” Doflamingo does quite enjoy teasing you, though you’ve never been discouraged by it. You rather take what he teases you about as a point of constructive criticism and work on it so he can’t tease you again. In his own way he pushes you to do better. Although you sometimes get a little mad at his teasing. 

[libellule-ao3]

Hey,

I really like your Ominis' NSFW Alphabet. Can I request one for Sebastian?

Hello,

I had some random HCs about Sebastian in a file. Your request prompted me to organise them a bit. So thank you. 🙏💖

I hope you will like them.

As always, I hope you will forgive any potential language mistakes.

NSFW Alphabet | Sebastian Sallow 🔞

⚠️Sexually explicit content | 🔞 | Smut | HC |2,5k words

Summary: Some of my smutty HC about Sebastian Sallow, collected under the "NSFW alphabet" template.

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Other NSFW alphabets: Ominis Gaunt, Dark!Ominis

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sebastian can fuck you relentlessly, make you scream his name, and push you over the edge, but afterwards, he remains extremely attentive. He holds you close, kisses you softly, whispers praise, and caresses you slowly while you catch your breath. Sometimes, he murmurs how much you mean to him, as if afraid to lose you like he lost his family. He may also massage your tired muscles, apply soothing lotion to areas reddened by blows or bites, and make sure you’re well hydrated. His need to protect and care for you is almost obsessive. He loves to see you relaxed, exhausted, and satisfied, so he’ll shower you with kisses, sometimes until you’re ready for another round.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sebastian is particularly proud of his hands, which are just as good at wielding a wand as they are at making you come. He loves their versatility: caressing you tenderly, spanking you hard, penetrating you deeply, pinching your nipples, all to play with your pleasure. He also loves to feel the vibrations of your moans under his palm as he grabs you by the throat, controlling your breathing and arousal.

As for your body, he’s obsessed with your bottom. He loves to touch it discreetly as he walks past you, grab it firmly or slap it as he takes you from behind or as you ride him, or simply caress it as you lie against him. What’s more, nothing turns him on more than seeing your bottom redden under his strokes or bounce up and down with every thrust.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Sebastian prefers to cum inside you, deep inside, to mark his territory in the most intimate way possible. The sensation of your walls contracting around him as he pours himself into you is incomparable. But if you want him to cum elsewhere, he also loves to watch you on your knees, mouth wide open, tongue outstretched to receive every drop, or see your body splattered with his cum, especially on your breasts or face. It awakens a primal instinct in him, a pride in seeing you marked by him in this way.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’ll never admit it openly, but the idea of fucking you in a public place, where anyone could catch you in the act, excites him to no end. The thrill of the forbidden, combined with the fear of being caught, increases his desire tenfold. He fantasises about taking you against a wall in a corridor, an empty classroom, or a dark alley. He also dreams of discreetly caressing you under the table, without anyone knowing, leaving you unable to concentrate on anything other than the pleasure he’s giving you.

Finally, he often imagines screwing you so hard that you can hardly walk afterwards, and that everyone can tell.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Contrary to what you might think, he didn’t have much experience before you. Sebastian's life was entirely governed by his quest to save Anne, his obsession with dark magic, and the scars left by Solomon's death, Anne's rejection, and Ominis' estrangement. Burdened by so much suffering, he never had the time or emotional space to think about romance or physical pleasure before you. However, his natural curiosity and passion for learning have enabled him to be an attentive lover, experimenting and honing his skills to find out what makes you tick. So, his fingers, his tongue, his cock—he tested everything on you to understand how to make you come repeatedly.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Sebastian loves to possess you in doggy-style. He loves to see you on all fours, arched over, exposed to him. One of his greatest pleasures is to grab your hips firmly and pull you against him, sinking deep into you again and again. He relishes the way your body trembles under the impact of his thrusts. But what he loves most of all is wrapping your hair around his fist, pulling it back to force you to lift your head, all the while whispering obscene words in your ear. The total control he has over you in this position excites him like never. He never gets tired of your buttocks slamming against him, the sound of your bodies colliding and your muffled moans.

Then he loves it when you ride him. Seeing your body move on top of him, your tits bouncing with every movement, drives him absolutely crazy. He watches you rub up against him, guiding you up and down his cock, adjusting the angle to get to the places that make you scream. He loves the way you think you’re holding the reins, when he always ends up gripping you by the hips to go faster, harder, until you’re both overwhelmed with pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Even though he’s often intense and serious during sex, Sebastian has a mischievous side that also comes out when he’s intimate. He can’t help teasing you. He laughs softly when you become impatient, or when you beg him to go faster. He may also tickle you or tell a joke at the worst possible moment just to throw you off balance a little before fucking you even harder.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sebastian doesn’t really have strict rules about this. He keeps his private hair neat, but doesn’t touch the hair on his chest, or the fine line of hair that runs from his navel to his bush. Also, he doesn’t care whether or not you’re waxed. As long as he can lick you, fuck you, and make you come, he’s perfectly happy. However, he does like to grab your hair during the act, pulling it slightly to force you to tilt your head, exposing your neck to his possessive kisses and bites. And he loves it when your hands grip his as he eats you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.)

Sebastian loves to see you vulnerable, especially when you’re under him, breathless and trembling with pleasure. He likes to whisper dirty words in your ear as he thrusts deep inside you, just to feel your body react to his every word. Even in his most brutal moments, he still looks at you with that all-consuming desire that shows you mean the world to him.

J = Jack off (HC masturbation)

Sebastian has no problem with pleasuring himself when you’re not around, especially if he’s overwhelmed with desire for you. He may even let his mind wander to the intimate moments you’ve shared to increase his pleasure (your lips around his cock, for example, or your throbbing pussy as he impales you against a wall). When he’s particularly excited, he may even masturbate in front of you, enjoying watching you become eager and aroused as you watch him pleasure himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sebastian loves to dominate. He loves rough sex, making you bend under him, seeing you on your knees sucking him off while he controls the pace and depth by grabbing your hair. He loves that you’re totally at his mercy, whether it’s through handcuffs or orders. But he also likes the idea of a brief resistance, forcing you to give in to him, and the moment you let go makes him even harder.

Sebastian has a strong breeding kink. The idea of filling you up and knowing he could get you pregnant drives him mad. He gains a primal satisfaction from the thought of you carrying his child, especially after everything he’s lost. It’s not just about marking you as his, but more about creating something permanent, a family—something he’s craved ever since losing his parents and Anne.

The way your body changes during pregnancy only intensifies his desire. He finds you even more irresistible, the sight of your round belly, where his baby is growing, exciting him beyond reason. He loves being the one to satisfy all your needs while you’re vulnerable, taking special care to ensure your comfort but never holding back on intensity. During sex, he loves trying new positions that suit your changing body, and Sebastian can spend hours worshipping your pregnant form, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he desires you.

He also has a weakness for role-playing games, especially those where he can reverse the dynamic and explore scenarios where one of you is in a position of weakness or submission.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

As much as he enjoys the safety of your bedroom, Sebastian can find carnal pleasure in unexpected places. Whether it’s in an empty classroom, against a tree in the Forbidden Forest, or even in a cramped bathtub, every place has its charm as long as he can hear you moan his name without restraint.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Everything about you is a source of motivation for Sebastian. Your perfume, the way you run your tongue over your lips, the subtle movement of your hips, it all drives him crazy. But what probably turns him on the most is when you turn into a naughty girl. He loves the defiant look in your eyes when you try to take control, or when you provoke him, knowing full well he’ll punish you for it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He likes to push your buttons, but respects your limits. He’s a possessive guy who doesn’t like anyone else intruding on your intimate moments, either.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sebastian is as talented with his mouth as he is with his hands. He’s obsessed with making you come using his tongue. He loves to hear you moan under the deft movements of his mouth, watching you writhe in pleasure as he licks you relentlessly. Of course, receiving oral pleasure is just as enjoyable, especially when he sees how much you love having it in your mouth, your eyes gazing into his as he reaches down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sebastian is an intense and passionate lover, often preferring a fast and determined pace, as his desire could wait no longer. That said, he knows how to adapt to your needs, slowing down if he senses you want something gentler.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sebastian loves quickies, especially when the urge is too strong. He won’t hesitate to shag you quickly in a dark corner or a broom cupboard, his hand covering your mouth to muffle your moans as he penetrates you with brutal urgency, reaching orgasm in a matter of minutes before you go back to business as usual.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sebastian loves risk. Whether it’s trying new things or pushing the boundaries of what’s socially acceptable, he loves exploring with you. For him, sex is as much about pleasure as it is about challenge, and he loves pushing the boundaries with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Sebastian is tireless, capable of satisfying you several times in one night! Even after he’s released, he’s often ready for another round after a brief rest.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Sebastian is open to using toys to increase the intensity of your sessions. He likes to use enchantments on you, placing his vibrating wand of magic against your clitoris as he penetrates you, or using it to torture you during foreplay. Ties, light whips, and even gags are also among the accessories he uses.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease?)

If you’ve been a bad girl or provoked him, Sebastian can be terribly unfair, loving to torture you slowly, make you beg and cry in frustration. He often does edging, bringing you close to orgasm several times, then depriving you of your pleasure just before you explode, until you’re a desperate wreck, begging for release.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sebastian is quite vocal, groaning and grunting with every move. When he’s close to orgasm, his moans become hoarse. But his favourite part is hearing your screams, moans, and every sound that escapes your mouth. He wants you to be loud, to let everyone know how much he’s driving you crazy.

W = Wild card (a random HCs)

-Sebastian likes to surprise you. Whether it’s initiating an unscheduled session in an unlikely location, using a prop you weren’t expecting, or dominating you in a new way, he always likes to maintain an element of mystery and surprise. For example, he might walk into the room, pin you up against a wall and fuck you without warning, or wake you up by eating or fucking you, just to see your face overcome with pleasure as you wake up. He also knows you like it when he loses control, and sometimes he lets you dominate him and do what you want with him.

-When Sebastian is overwhelmed by anger or frustration, especially due to memories of Anne or the guilt of having killed his uncle, he sometimes turns to sex as an outlet. In those moments, he is more intense, even bordering on brutal, but always in control of his actions. Afterwards, he becomes extremely tender, almost guilty for having let himself go, but also deeply grateful that you're there to soothe him and that you accept him, even with his darker sides.

-One of the consequences of the losses he has suffered is that he becomes very possessive. He likes to mark his territory on your body, whether with bites, scratches, or ensuring you bear the marks of your sessions the next day. He needs to know that you belong to him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sebastian is slim and toned, with skin covered in freckles, more concentrated in areas that are often exposed to the sun. He also has a few scars, left over from duels and training sessions. He’s not particularly imposing, but he has charisma to spare, with an intensity in his gaze that melts you completely. Down below, he’s well proportioned, with a tail of average length but thicker so you can feel every movement and pulse. He loves to see how your body reacts when he penetrates you, to feel your drenched walls stretch around him. It’s an attribute he’s proud of because he knows exactly how to use it to get you where he wants you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sebastian has an uncontrollable libido, especially with you. Sometimes he’s so obsessed with making love to you he can’t concentrate on anything else until that need is met. He wants you constantly, and his body reacts to the slightest of your provocative gestures. Even a simple smile or caress can make him hard, and he’s often ready for action at the first opportunity. Also, he’s not afraid to express his desire for you, even in inappropriate situations. He’s sometimes amused to see you embarrassed, knowing full well that he’ll get what he wants in the end.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sebastian can be exhausted after sex, especially if you’ve spent most of the night making each other come. But he refuses to go to sleep unless you’re satisfied. He always makes sure you’re comfortable, that you’ve got everything you need before finally drifting off to sleep, often with you snuggled up against him, his hand still possessive over your body.

[hoo-n-i-ki]

Cold One. (Fin)

A vampire’s love is eternal—it transcends lifetimes that others can’t live.

PAIRING - Volturi!Riki x Cullen!fem!reader

GENRE - Twilight AU

CHAPTER WC - 5886

WARNINGS - Vampires, shapeshifters, graphic violence, death, suggestive/fade to black. (This is a complete work of fiction and is in no way a representation of Riki/Enha).

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Aro lifts you with ease, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. Cruel, cruel amusement.

Riki jumps, escaping the two tigers he’s facing.

It’s pure instinct, pure desperation, but Caius intercepts him, blocking his path. Riki snarls, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap, but Aro only chuckles.

“How tragic, my dear Riki,” Aro muses, his voice velvety smooth despite the carnage surrounding him. “Look how far you’ve fallen. A heart where there should be none. You would betray your own for this girl and her accomplice? Pray tell, is she your mate?”

Riki struggles against Caius’s grip, his ruby eyes burning with an emotion you’ve never seen before.

Fear. For you.

“She’s not the one who needs to die.” His voice is low, trembling with rage. “You’re here to kill me.”

Through his distraction, he lets the tigers’ minds go.

No.

But the tigers stay where they are.

“Caius, Master Caius, kill me. Let her and the Cullens go.”

“Oh, we will in due time,” Caius growls.

“But it is only fair you witness me take someone from you, dear Riki, is it not?” Aro’s smile widens, his fingers twitching around your throat. “After all, when you left, you took my prized Jane and Alec with you, and she was meant to die long ago, regardless,” he tsks.

Jasper moves, a blur of motion as he crashes into Caius, tearing him away from Riki. A split second is all Riki needs to break free, rushing for you—

But Aro tightens his grip.

“I wouldn’t,” Aro hums, lifting you even higher, causing the stony skin of your throat to start cracking.

Crack. By crack. By crack.

Alice screams your name.

Carlisle and Esme move in tandem, flanking Aro from either side, but Marcus intercepts them, knocking them back with a thunderous blow.

Riki closes his eyes.

Aro stiffens. His grip on you falters—just barely.

“Get out,” he hisses at Riki.

But Riki doesn’t reply. He’s trying his hardest to focus.

You can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch. He’s reaching, pulling, fighting to invade Aro’s mind.

But it won’t work. You know it won’t, because this past week, you were told all there is to know about the Volturi.

Aro is over 3000 years old. If Riki had centuries to hone his skills, Aro had several millennia.

The moment Riki is lost in his concentration, Caius moves faster than a blur. His hand snaps around Riki’s throat, yanking him back with an unforgivable force.

Riki chokes. His eyes fly open—but it’s too late.

Caius snarls, his face twisted in pure fury. “Pathetic boy,” he seethes, tightening his grip. Riki claws at his wrist, struggling, but Caius is older. Stronger.

Riki is losing.

And you’re helpless.

Your knees buckle, and the world around you slows to a dull hum, the chaos fading as a sense of peace washes over you.

This is it—the end.

Goodbye to Misora, who stood by you and made your last couple of months enjoyable.

Goodbye to the Cullens, who saved you the first time, gave you shelter, and let you feel like you belonged even when you didn’t deserve it.

Goodbye to Riki.

Riki.

You wish you had more time.

A wish. A regret. A gradual fall never spoken aloud.

And finally, a hello.

Hello to the parents you haven’t seen in twenty years.

Hello to the light you pray will still be willing to take you in despite the darkness that temporarily washed over your soul.

“This is not what we agreed on!”

A blur of fur. Glowing streaks of amber eyes. The crackling of bones as four legs move upright, shifting to two legs and two arms, covered by light honey skin.

Where the tiger who goes by the name Jay once prowled at the edge of the battlefield, a black-haired human boy you’ve never seen before now stands, eyes burning with fury.

“But our agreement was to remove the threat from your little town, was it not?” Caius speaks. “The newborn might be in the Cullens’ coven, but she is just as dangerous as Riki and his sister. Look at her red eyes.”

Jay’s eyes flick from you, to your captor, to Riki and his, and to your family being held back behind you.

Please.

“You’re right. We see the red eyes.”

Jay shifts back. Heeseung growls—a deep, guttural sound that rumbles through the clearing. Behind them, the rest of the tigers step forward slowly. Deliberately.

Sunghoon’s lip curls over his teeth. Jungwon’s claws extend. Jake’s shoulders tense, fingers flexing.

“Finish the job,” Aro growls, his minor disorientation making him lose his decorum.

The tigers don’t need to be told twice—they’re already moving.

Jay lunges.

Straight for Caius.

Caius is fast, but Jay is unexpected. He slams into him, tearing Riki from his grasp, sending them both crashing into the dirt.

The Volturi are no longer the predators. And you are no longer the prey.

“Traitors!” Caius spits, dodging Jay’s next attack, but he’s outnumbered.

The six tigers are everywhere. And even better?

The Cullens who were out hunting return with an unmatched vigor.

A roar splits through the night as Emmett crashes through the trees, his massive frame barreling straight into Marcus, sending them both tumbling. Rosalie follows, her hands catching his throat before twisting—

A sickening crack.

Riki twists to face Caius, finishing the job on behalf of the Baekho clan. He paralyzes him, while Heeseung tears his throat out.

Edward and Bella collide with Aro. His grip on you weakens, so you move while you still can.

You run straight toward Riki.

He reaches for you, arms about to pull you close, but—

“You think I’d let you have all the fun?”

A blur of motion. A flash of familiar long black hair.

Misora.

She bursts into the clearing, her crimson eyes burning, her fangs bared.

Edward is fast. Bella is strong. And Misora is Aro’s downfall.

She strides forward, her eyes locked onto Aro as he fends off Edward’s blows.

“You know, Aro,” she purrs, “you’ve had a long reign. But even the greatest kings fall eventually.”

Aro snarls, dodging Edward’s next strike, but he hesitates. Just for a second.

And Misora smiles.

“Did you by any chance think I was powerless?” she taunts.

Aro’s body stiffens. His expression contorts.

Then—he staggers.

His red eyes dart around wildly, as if trying to see something that isn’t there.

“What are you doing, lowly nomad?” he hisses.

Misora tilts her head. “Shutting you up.”

Riki watches, frozen, as his former master stumbles.

His movements become sluggish, his expression turning from rage—to confusion.

Aro reaches for his head as if trying to grasp at something that isn’t there.

And Riki, beside you, is just as confused.

“What—” His voice is hoarse as he steps closer, gaze snapping between Misora and Aro. “What are you doing to him?”

Misora smiles. A slow, dangerous smile. “I’m stealing away every last bit of his mental fortitude.” She turns to her brother with a raised eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”

So Misora’s power… compliments her brother’s.

You see the moment the realization clicks into Riki’s head, in the way his eyes regain their fire, in the way he takes a deliberate step forward.

He takes his sister’s invitation.

Aro gasps.

His fingers twitch at his sides, his head jerking slightly—like his own body is no longer listening to him.

“You—” Aro chokes, but the rest of his words die in his throat.

Because without his centuries of control, Riki is inside his mind. It’s like he’s finally able to invade a kingdom without a king.

Aro’s body stiffens completely.

His own hands twitch at his sides.

Then—they rise.

His lips part in a silent scream as his fingers curl around his own throat, his grip tightening—

Harder.

Harder.

Crack.

His head yanks violently to the side.

Crack.

His arms twist.

Crack.

With a sickening, final wrench, Aro’s own hands rip his head clean from his shoulders.

His red eyes—filled with terror—stare at Riki.

Finally, Aro falls.

Carlisle steps forward, his usually gentle face is hardened with resolve as he carries a torch in one hand. The flames flicker, casting an eerie light across the battlefield.

The Volturi’s bodies lay sprawled in unnatural angles, a testament to the brutality that just unfolded. Aro’s lifeless head is still locked in the wide-eyed expression of terror, his crimson eyes frozen in the moment of his demise. The others are equally still, their once-immense power now nothing more than lifeless husks.

Without hesitation, he lowers the torch to the first Volturi corpse—Caius’s body. The flame flickers and dances, igniting the exposed flesh, the smell of burning vampire flesh acrid in the air.

Riki watches, his eyes never leaving Aro’s head, his face a mask of quiet satisfaction, though his fists are still clenched. Misora stands nearby, her expression hardened, but there’s a flicker of something softer behind her gaze.

Carlisle moves methodically, his eyes sharp as he turns to Marcus’s body. Finally, Aro. As the final body catches fire and the flames roar louder, you stand there, surrounded by those who fought for you—those you care about most.

Riki turns to you, his gaze softer now, though his expression still carries the strain of everything that just happened. “We won,” he whispers, voice still hoarse from the struggle. “It’s over.”

Is this it? Is this the flicker of hope you’ve been longing for all these years? Beckoned by this beautiful’s man deep voice and carried by the scent of smoke engulfing the clearing?

You don’t need to inhale, none of you do, but it’s a smell that ensures that they’ll never rise again, so you savor it.

But then, breaking through the heavy stillness, comes a low, rumbling growl. It starts as a faint vibration in the ground, a guttural sound that seems to come from the depths of the forest. The tigers. Even they are inhaling the thick smoke, their animal instincts drawn to the scent of burning flesh.

For a brief moment, the tension is suffocating. Riki’s muscles stiffen, and his eyes dart toward the source of the rumbling. Misora’s posture shifts, a subtle but noticeable shift as she prepares herself for anything. A flicker of fear in her eyes betrays her calm exterior, but there’s also determination there. Your family have come so far, fought so hard, but it isn’t over yet, is it?

The growls grow louder, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the tension in the air becomes palpable. You can sense the change in the atmosphere—another threat, still present, lurking. The tigers, the ones who’ve been an uneasy ally throughout this, are not actually on your side. They’ve been here with a mission of their own. They believe the treaty is forfeit by having Riki and Misora around…

But before any movement can be made, the heavily striped tiger—Jungwon—slowly steps forward. His powerful form shifts and cracks, bones realigning with a sickening sound. In an instant, he stands before you, human once again, dressed only in the shadows cast by the surrounding trees, and already perfectly healthy, perfectly healed like you didn’t manage to injure him to begin with. His sharp eyes scan the clearing, assessing the situation, his body still radiating a tense energy.

The other tigers, their eyes wary and calculating, tense up. Their movements are slow, deliberate, as if testing whether the situation will turn hostile once more. The clearing is once again on edge, the air crackling with the energy of lingering uncertainty.

Jungwon doesn’t speak at first, but his gaze flickers to the burning bodies of the Volturi, to the smoldering remains that still hiss and crackle in the fire. He looks from Riki to Misora, his expression dark.

“We came here for one reason.” His words are clipped, sharp. “To kill you.”

A quiet tension fills the air as his words land, but then, as if to dispel the weight of them, he adds, “But it seems… at our core, we’re more alike than we thought.”

With that, he steps back, signaling to the others. They turn, almost in unison, retreating into the shadows of the trees, their movements swift and fluid. For a moment, it feels as if nothing has changed, as if the battle is far from over.

But the retreat is final. The tigers vanish back into the forest, leaving behind only the fading rumble of their presence and the promise that this fight is done. For now.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Riki enters one of Cullen house’s various unused bathrooms, more than ready to wash away the last remnants of the battle. The proof that it happened. Proof that they survived.

His body aches, though not from injury—he heals too fast for that. It’s exhaustion, the kind that sinks into his bones, deeper than any wound. His mind replays the fight in sharp flashes: the Volturi’s lifeless bodies, the fire in Carlisle’s hands, the scent of burning vampire flesh. And then the tigers—the way their growls had rumbled through the clearing, how, for a second, it had felt like they weren’t done fighting after all.

And then her.

Through it all, she was there. (Y/N).

He turns on the hot water, and watches it cascade in steady streams. He presses his hands against the tile of the walls, head bowed as the steam curls. He tries to distract himself with the motions, but there’s no stopping his thoughts from drifting to her. The way she fought, despite her tangible terror. The way she ran to him. The way she looked at him when the flames consumed Aro’s body—like she wasn’t sure if she could let herself believe that it’s really over.

And maybe he wasn’t sure, either.

A sound. Faint, but distinct. Footsteps just outside the bathroom door.

His head lifts slightly, eyes narrowing. He knows her steps anywhere. They haven’t even known each other for two weeks, but all of his senses are now attuned to her, so even if her footsteps barely make a sound, even if her presence is subtle—he just knows.

And she stops. She just knows that he’s the one in there, too.

For a second, he wonders if she’ll knock. If she’ll say something first.

She doesn’t. But she doesn’t walk away, either.

So he walks up to the door and speaks. “You’re still wandering around.” His voice is rougher than he expected, still worn from the night.

A pause. Then, from the other side of the door, “I’m feeling restless.”

He huffs out something that isn’t quite a laugh. “I get that. I figured a shower might help.”

A beat of silence. He can picture her standing there, arms crossed, maybe leaning against the doorframe. Thinking. He wonders if she’s listening to the water running, if she’s imagining him like this—tired, drained, but somehow still wired.

Then, softly, she asks, “Would it?”

He exhales, watching the steam curl upward. “Not really.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, and for a moment, he wonders if she’ll leave. But then—

“I don’t think it ever will,” she admits. “Not completely.”

His fingers curl slightly against the tile near the door. “Yeah.” He swallows. “I keep thinking about it. How close it was. How easily it could’ve gone wrong.”

“We won,” she reminds him, her voice steady.

He closes his eyes. “I know. But that doesn’t make it stop.”

Another pause. Then, softer this time, “Make what stop?”

His grip tightens against the wall. He doesn’t want to say it. But for her, he’ll spill his truths. It’s some effect nobody but her has had on him.

“The feeling,” he murmurs. “That it’s not really over. That something else is coming.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that he almost opens the door, almost steps out to face her.

“Maybe it is,” she finally says. “For now, at least.”

For now.

He sighs and turns around to tilt his head back against the wall. He doesn’t know why those words make something settle in him, even just a little.

For now.

It’s not a promise. But maybe it’s enough.

Riki stays quiet for a moment, letting the sound of the still-flowing water fill the space between them. He feels her still standing there, a pure mind he simply brushed his power against.

Just to feel her. He’ll never use it on her, nor on anyone he cares about ever again.

Misora’s face of betrayal is still imprinted into his thoughts.

Then, her voice, quieter now. “Back there… when Aro looked at me. When he asked you if I was your mate.” A pause. “What did he mean?”

His fingers still.

The words didn’t register at the time, but now she reminded him.

Now, and for a solid minute, it’s all he can think about.

His mate… could she really be? Does he deserve to have one?

“You don’t know?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”

A small smirk tugs at his lips despite himself. That’s just like her. Finding ways to make him smile. Tearing down his brick wall of stoicism.

He leans forward, crossing his arms. “It’s… complicated.”

“I think I can handle complicated.”

He closes his eyes. “A mate is…” He exhales sharply, trying to find the right words. “You know vampires feel everything more strongly than humans. But vampires are also unchanging. So when we fall for someone? It’s more than love. It’s something deeper, something that gets ingrained into our very being. When we find our mate, that’s it. It’s irreversible. It’s…” He hesitates. “Forever.”

Silence.

Not for the first time around her, Riki wonders if he’s said too much. If he should’ve held back, softened it somehow. But then—

“Forever,” she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.”

Another pause. Then, hesitantly, “Is that… could I be that to you?”

Riki’s heart—silent, still—somehow feels like it should be racing. He takes a second to look up at the ceiling, feeling something he hasn’t felt in centuries.

The urge to pray to Ebisu, the Shinto deity of fortune.

He doesn’t remember much from his old life, not even the language, but lately he’s been feeling more and more human.

Now, he could make this easier on himself and lie. He could deflect. But she’s standing on the other side of this door, asking him something real. Something she deserves an answer to.

So he gives it to her.

“I think you could be, yes.”

The words lingers in the air between them. Vague, but just as heavy.

He waits. A shift in her stance. And then, softly—

“Oh.”

Just that. Just oh.

Riki huffs out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.”

She lets out something that sounds almost like a laugh. “I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

She’s quiet again. Then, barely audible, “How would you know?”

He shrugs even though she can’t see it. “It‘s supposed to be something you just feel. I guess I… felt something for you from the first time we spoke, but I never thought I would…. I didn’t put two and two together.”

A shaky inhale from the other side of the door. Then, after a long moment, “Okay.”

It’s not a rejection. It’s not disbelief. It’s just okay.

Riki lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He expected more—questions, hesitation, maybe even denial. But she’s still just standing there on the other side of this thin wall.

A smile tugs at his lips. “Just okay?” he murmurs, the words slipping past his lips like silk. “That’s all you have to say?”

She shifts on the other side, and he can almost picture her expression, the way her brows might furrow, the way she might chew on her bottom lip, thinking.

“Well,” she finally says, her voice quieter now, laced with something softer. “What else am I supposed to say?”

He shouldn’t push. He shouldn’t—

But what if he throws caution to the wind just once? See what happens if he chases happiness rather than duty?

“Come here, then,” he says, a hesitant invitation.

Silence.

“I—”

Riki reaches for the door handle, twisting it just enough to crack it open, enough to see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes—but also something else. Curiosity. Intrigue.

“Scared?” His voice dips lower, something between teasing and reserve so similar to her own it makes her comfortable.

She swallows, and he watches the movement of her throat, watches the way her fingers twitch at her sides.

But she steps forward.

It’s happening.

The second she’s within reach, he tugs her into the steam-filled space, but through their excitement, they tumble back together into the walk-in shower, the warmth of the water swallowing them both. The thin fabric of her shirt clings to her instantly, darkening as it absorbs the water, molding to the curves of her body. His eyes drop, flickering over her, taking in every inch, every tiny shift in her expression.

She shivers—not from cold, but from him.

Riki reaches out, trailing wet fingers over the line of her jaw, tilting her face up so she has no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You sure about this?”

She doesn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”

That’s all he needs.

This is all he needs. Since the past couple of weeks.

Since the past couple hundred years.

He doesn’t want to waste another second before closing the space between them. But something tugs at him.

200 years of conditioning.

His fingers tense slightly against her skin—not because he doesn’t want to—fuck, he wants this more than anything—but because they’re still standing on the edge of something neither of them fully understand. Because this is new, because he’s spent centuries guarding himself against anything that could make him weak.

And he’s giving someone the power to break him.

His hands still. His jaw clenches, restraint warring with the part of him that just wants to feel.

She notices. Her brows furrow slightly, her fingers ghosting over his forearm. “Riki?”

Her voice is softer now, questioning. Searching.

He closes his eyes briefly, exhaling. If he stops now, she’ll understand. He knows she will.

But then she shifts closer, her body pressing against his, warmth meeting warmth. And it shatters him.

The restraint, the doubts—gone.

He opens his eyes, and before she can say anything, his lips finally find hers, slow at first, deliberate—like he’s giving her time to pull away, to rethink, to stop him. But she doesn’t. Instead, she presses closer, her fingers finding their way to his shoulders, gripping, grounding herself. She glides her lips against his full ones, teasing, tasting.

The water cascades over them, heat seeping into their skin, but it’s nothing compared to the fire burning between them.

Riki’s hands move, slowly sliding down her sides, memorizing. His fingers find the hem of her shirt, his touch featherlight against her skin. He tugs at it, just enough to test her reaction, to see if she’ll stop him.

She doesn’t.

The shirt is gone in a matter of seconds, discarded somewhere behind them, leaving her standing before him, glistening under the soft light filtering through the steam. Riki lets out a quiet curse, his eyes drinking her in, lingering on the way droplets of water trace paths down her skin.

“You’re—” He exhales sharply, like he’s struggling to find words, like for once, he’s at a loss. “So damn beautiful.”

Her blood orange eyes gleam, but she doesn’t shy away. If anything, she tilts her chin up slightly, as if daring him to keep going.

And so he does.

His lips find her neck, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the slope of her shoulder. His hands settle on her waist, strong and firm, holding her in place as he explores, as he takes his time.

She gasps when his teeth graze over a sensitive spot just below her ear, her fingers digging into his skin. He smirks against her neck. “That’s a nice sound,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “I think I wanna hear more of it.”

She barely has time to react before he’s backing her up against the cool tile, his body pressing into hers, leaving no space between them. The contrast of the heat from the water and the chill of the wall sends a shiver down her spine, but Riki is there, anchoring her, warming her, setting every inch of her alight.

And he’s not done yet. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

The sunlight barely peaks through the dense forest, the morning mist still lingering, as you hang around the spacious living room of the Cullen house. You stand by the window, watching the shifting shadows of the trees, lost in thought. Your mind is a tangled web of everything that’s happened in the past day. The Volturi. The tigers.

Riki.

Just then, a soft knock at the door makes you stiffen. Carlisle walks up to open it, and there he is—Dr. Park.

His eyes sweep the room, landing first on the Cullens, then on Riki and Misora, before finally resting on you. There’s no surprise in his eyes, just a quiet acknowledgement of the tension that lingers.

“I see the house is still… more crowded than I anticipated,” Dr. Park says awkwardly. His voice is calm, but there’s a hint of something else beneath it—something like resignation.

Edward stands by the fireplace, his hands clasped together, his face unreadable. “You’re not welcome here,” he says firmly, his voice lacking any warmth.

Dr. Park doesn’t seem bothered by the coldness. He just steps further into the room, uninvited but not deterred. His six tiger shifters follow behind him, their human forms nothing short of imposing, both the two you saw last night, and the four others. They stand in a loose formation, eyes narrowed, but they’re not hostile. They’re just… waiting.

Misora, standing by the back wall, crosses her arms. Her eyes stay cold, but there’s no aggression in her posture. She’s here to observe, just as much as the rest of you are. Dr. Park apparently wanted her dead just based on her eye color. But now, it seems, he’s learned how to differentiate between friend and foe.

At least, you hope so.

You can feel the tension in the room tightening, but Dr. Park seems determined to move past it. “I’m not here to make excuses. I did what I thought was necessary. I… miscalculated.”

Carlisle remains composed, but his gaze sharpens. “Miscalculated? You put all of us at risk, Dr. Park. You played your hand too long.”

There’s a long silence as Dr. Park looks at Carlisle, his eyes flicking to the six tigers, then to Riki and Misora. “I know. I can’t change the past. But I can try to make this right.

“We’re not used to letting vampires walk our territory.” A pause. “But I can see now that not all of you are the same.”

“We have no interest in staying where we aren’t welcome. Our family will be leaving soon,” Carlisle responds.

Dr. Park takes a deep breath, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “That will not be necessary.” He sighs. “The treaty Chief Black of the Quileutes forged between us was too limiting. Let us agree to a new treaty. So long as your matters do not concern our settlement, we will not interfere.”

Then, Jungwon steps forward, extending a hand toward Riki. “Apologies to you and your sister, and thank you for helping us kill the blonde one.”

You tense slightly, waiting for Riki’s reaction, but after a moment, he takes it. A handshake. A truce.

It’s not friendship, and it never will be, but it’s enough.

After Dr. Park’s visit, the tension in the Cullen house starts to settle, but an unsettling quiet remains.

Misora doesn’t move much from her spot by the wall, her arms still crossed as she watches the others, her expression unreadable. You know what she’s thinking—she’s never been the type to settle in one place for long. She’s a wanderer, always moving, always seeking the next challenge, the next horizon.

It’s something you both shared, for a while. You hunted together, finding moments of freedom that both of you crave so fiercely. You’ve seen each other at your best and your worst, and there’s a comfort in that unspoken understanding.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” you ask quietly, your voice breaking the silence.

Misora looks over at you, her gaze amused at first, but then softens just slightly. “I always leave,” she replies, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “You know me. I can’t stay in one place for too long. Not even for you.”

You let out a small, frustrated sigh. “I know. But it’s different now. You don’t have to run anymore.”

Her eyes flick to the others and then back to you. “I’m not running from anyone.” Her voice is firm, resolute. “I just don’t fit in here. I never have. And you? Are you going to stay with the Cullens?”

You hesitate, your gaze drifting towards them. You’ve felt the pull of belonging, of finding a place to settle, but you’re not sure you can embrace that life yet. “I don’t know yet. I think I’m still figuring that out.”

Misora steps closer to you, her presence grounding. “You don’t have to decide now. You’ve got time. But me? I know my path. I always have.”

You want to say something, to tell her to stay, but you can’t. You know better than anyone that she needs to go. Misora’s freedom is her own, and it’s not something she can easily give up.

She gives you a small nod, like she’s saying goodbye, but it’s not final. “Take care of yourself. Don’t let them tie you down. If you ever want to leave with me… you know where to find me.”

With that, she turns to walk toward the door, her movements smooth and sure. But just as her hand touches the doorknob, there’s a sudden shift in the air—an energy that only comes with Riki’s… your mate’s proximity.

Misora glances at you one last time, her lips twitching slightly in a way that could almost be mistaken for a smile, before she steps toward her brother. Getting through this last piece of unfinished business.

“Goodbye, onii-san.”

Riki pauses, his chin quivering. “Is that it?”

Misora shrugs. “We fought together, and we won together. That’s more than we can say for our previous life. I still don’t forgive you for the past 200 years or for you using your power on me. But… I might be ready to in a later lifetime. But for now? I’m not gonna pretend everything is fine when it’s not.”

Riki doesn’t reply right away. He stands there, his expression unreadable, the air heavy between them. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he exhales sharply and extends his hand.

Misora hesitates for only a beat before accepting the gesture. It’s not a friendly handshake, not a truce—just a silent acknowledgment of the past they share. And, perhaps, a quiet farewell.

“Goodbye, Misora,” he says softly.

With that, she steps past him and out the door, leaving behind a heavy silence in her wake. Riki watches her leave, his gaze lingering on the empty doorway for several beats.

Without thinking, you step closer.

He doesn’t look at you right away, but when he finally does, there’s something raw in his expression—something unguarded, vulnerable. And then, without a word, he leans into you.

Your arms wrap around him instinctively, grounding him. His body is tense at first, but eventually, his muscles relax. It’s quiet, but in that silence, so much is said.

After a while, you murmur, “What now?”

Riki doesn’t answer immediately. He stays where he is, as if he hasn’t quite decided if he’s ready to let go yet. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says, “I don’t know.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. “Are you staying?”

His brows furrow slightly, and you know why.

He’s never been offered a safe, loving place before.

“If they’re okay with it…” he gestures to the Cullens. “Can I?”

But he isn’t seeing the way they’re already fondly smiling at the two of you.

“Of course,” you murmur.

He laughs awkwardly. “Maybe if I stay for long enough, my eyes will start to turn gold like yours are doing.”

You smile softly at his words, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You don’t have to rush it,” you murmur. “You’re already starting to fit in.”

Riki exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I feel like I’ve been fighting for so long, I don’t even know how to stop.”

“You don’t have to figure everything out right away.” Your fingers trail down to his wrist, a silent reassurance. “You’re allowed to just… be here.”

He looks at you then—really looks at you—and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the room fades away. The weight of everything he’s carried, everything you’ve both survived, lingers between you, but in this space, in this second, it’s just the two of you. No threats, no expectations. Just quiet understanding.

Riki shifts slightly, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “You make it sound so easy.”

You chuckle. “It’s not. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

A beat passes. Then another. Neither of you move to pull away just yet, as if breaking the moment would make it less real.

His fingers brush lightly against your waist, hesitant, testing, and you can feel the way his breath hitches. Your own hand lingers at his wrist, your thumb tracing soft circles against his skin. There’s something fragile yet certain between you.

Then, slowly, Riki leans in.

The kiss is soft—uncertain at first, like he’s still trying to convince himself this is real despite the ones you shared last night. But when you don’t pull away, when your fingers curl gently into the fabric of his shirt, he deepens it just slightly, exhaling against your lips. It’s slow, tender, a quiet promise exchanged between two souls who have spent far too long in limbo.

And it sets the tone for the rest of your day.

For the rest of your week, actually, as the two of your force yourselves to get used to the vegetarian diet under the supervision of the Cullens.

After a day trip with the wildlife, you follow Alice and her dainty, dainty footsteps back to the house.

She turns to you, halfway through your walk, gold eyes shimmering. “I saw you, you know.”

You blink. “What?”

Alice smiles, but there’s something wistful in it. “Nineteen years ago. When I first met Riki in Volterra. I had a vision,” she continues. “I saw him standing beside a girl with golden eyes. A girl who was part of our family.”

The words settle over you like a gentle weight. For a long moment, you can’t speak.

Alice’s smile widens, just a little. “I didn’t know who she was back then—but now I do.”

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

HOLY SHIT I JUST FINISHED MY FIRST FANFIC??? MEEE THAT QUITS EVERYTHING!!

Special thank you to everyone who actually liked it and was hyping me up throughout this novella-length journey yall have no idea how happy seeing the notifs made me😭😭

Deadass will miss Riki and (Y/N) sm

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Finale

@angelengene3011 @opheliaas-stuff @melzonly @meyinyin @nshmrarki @lizzygrantwrld @skyearby

[tobiasdrake]

Fun Fact: As Saiyans go, Raditz isn't just weak; He's a talentless hack. Nappa is much more talented at martial arts, but his skills are undermined by him being a complete fucking moron.

Raditz is our introduction to the particularities of the Planet Trade Organization - or, well, the Saiyans since the PTO didn't quite exist as a concept yet when he showed up.

Toriyama only came up with the PTO later in the arc. It's honestly kind of funny; Vegeta's referred to as the "Strongest in the Universe" a couple times in this arc because the idea for Frieza doesn't exist yet. The original plan was that the Saiyan race are the ones doing planet gentrification on their own initiative, but they were almost all wiped out by a meteor so if we take out Strongest in the Universe Vegeta, we'll put an end to it.

So all this stuff like the spaceship pods and Scouters that was original Saiyan equipment and methodology got retooled into being PTO equipment and methodology.

But I digress. We meet Raditz and he's unlike anyone we've seen before. He immediately starts shit with Piccolo because they're both assholes, and we see how he operates.

He has a little doodad that reads off someone's "Battle Power" into a flat, easily digestible number that even a child could understand. This is the industrialization of martial arts, simplifying it into something that can be replicated and mass-produced.

It's the difference between teaching swordsmanship lessons in your dojo versus handing someone an AK-47 and telling them to go shoot the enemy.

This is the key distinction between the Saiyans and Earthlings, that made Goku - A Saiyan raised on Earth engulfed by their martial arts philosophy - so formidable. The Saiyans and by extension Planet Trade's culture is built on capitalist efficiency. Their warriors are carefully measured, analyzed, and matched with suitable challenges. They aren't trained. In fact, Vegeta scoffs at the idea of it.

They're battle-hardened.

They measure their fighters and quantify their abilities into a number, then select the right target that matches that number. Those warriors become stronger through fire and frenzy, rather than by studying principles of martial technique.

Consequently, upwards mobility doesn't seem to be a thing. Nobody in the PTO got to where they are by working hard and improving themselves. Every single one of them is naturally gifted, coasting by on whatever privileges their birth afforded them. Especially Frieza.

They aren't practitioners of an art. They're cogs in a machine.

Raditz believes these distinctions made Goku weaker.

He has no idea. The limitations of the PTO's methodology is a recurring theme in the Saiyan and Namek arcs.

Raditz is a low-class Saiyan. By virtue of being a Saiyan, he's still unbelievably powerful compared to the terrestrial races of the worlds he's sent to. But power is all he brings to the table; He's an unrefined juggernaut who coasts by entirely on Big Number Go Brrrrr. Philosophically, Goku is unimpressed.

Coming from Goku, that's a pretty sick burn. He's already lost to Raditz once; He knows how Big Number this guy is. But he can't bite his tongue at Raditz's oversimplification of his art.

As a fighter, Raditz delivers what he promised. All he has going for him is Big Number Go Brr... but it's a really big number.

Raditz is impossibly strong, impossibly fast, and his basic-ass ki blasts are impossibly powerful. The gulf between Goku and an adversary has never been so huge before.

And yet, for all his power, he is repeatedly startled and befuddled by Goku and Piccolo's training and technique. These weaklings are breaking out abilities he didn't even know were possible.

Raditz watching Goku power up the most basic ki concentration technique on Earth and exclaiming "WHAT IS THIS SORCERY!?" really tells you everything about the PTO's methodology, doesn't it?

Raditz falls for every trick and every shenanigan that these guys have spent their careers honing, forced to rely solely on tanking attacks with his tremendous Numbers.

This dipshit hasn't even trained the weakness out of his tail.

Goku was fifteen years old when he trained his tail and eliminated this vulnerability.

Raditz is less proficient than Goku was as a child. This isn't even the PTO's flaws manifesting through Raditz, either. Nappa and Vegeta trained their tails.

"LOL What kind of a useless clown doesn't train his tail?" ~Nappa, probably. Oh, wait. No. Actually.

~Vegeta literally.

Raditz is limited by the philosophy of the Planet Trade and he's also on the weaker side of Saiyans, but he also sucks even without taking power levels into account. He brings absolutely nothing to the table. He reads someone's number to tell him in advance if they'll fall down when he punches them, and then he punches them if the number tells him he's clear.

Raditz isn't a fighter. He's a bully with a gun.

For his part, Nappa is a more advanced version of Raditz. His Big Number Go Brr is even bigger than Raditz's and he's familiar with more advanced techniques beyond "Throw this ball of ki at your face".

As a front-line fighter, Nappa is unbelievably tough. Blow after blow and attack after attack, he never gives as much as it feels like he should. No matter what they do to him, he keeps getting back up and coming back, more bloodied and bruised than ever but ready for another round. He is unbelievably resilient.

Fighting Nappa feels like an exercise in futility. You're going to have to kill this man to put him down because he'll accept nothing less. Even when Goku takes the field, he finds himself at a loss with Nappa's absolute unwillingness to take the hint and lose consciousness already.

Nappa is a brick wall. Goku only finally manages to end this by breaking his spine so he can't keep getting up again.

That is what Nappa brings to his table. Though it's worth noting that his Sisyphean endurance is something Vegeta shares as well. It's not unique to Nappa. Fights with Vegeta are every bit as much of an ordeal as this bout with Nappa was.

Saiyans are hard to put down.

Nappa's biggest weakness, however, is simple: Like Raditz, he's coasting on his brute strength. He doesn't pay attention to what's happening around him, and is easily blindsided by sudden attacks from other fighters in this brawl.

Or baited into incredibly poor decision-making.

For all his Saiyan might, the Earthlings would have killed Nappa well in advance of Goku's arrival, if he didn't have Vegeta to watch his back. I'm half-convinced the only reason he trained his tail is because Vegeta told him to.

Nappa is very much a follower. He does what he's told. He's honestly a better Saiyan than Vegeta in the sense that he. Like. Cares about other Saiyans? His kneejerk reaction when Vegeta suggests taking Earth's Dragon Balls is that he wants his friend back.

And he's filled with eugenic fervor for the glory of the Saiyan race when he finds out what mixing Saiyan and Earthling physiology can do.

Fun little side note: "Super Saiyan" was originally the term used to describe Gohan's hybrid abilities before it was recontextualized to mean something else on Namek.

It's honestly interesting to look at their interactions and realize that Vegeta is a cruel, monstrous, selfish bastard even by Saiyan standards. Vegeta is uniquely wicked within this culture of for-profit colonizing murderers.

But Nappa defers to Vegeta every time. Vegeta tells him, "No, you're wrong," and Nappa pivots to supporting whatever Vegeta just said instead. Nappa obeys.

But he doesn't listen. Vegeta and Nappa were following the action while Raditz was fighting Goku and Piccolo. They saw all of the strange anomalies that occurred, that Raditz couldn't comprehend. Vegeta spends this time thinking about what this means for Earth and re-evaluating his assessment of the foes to come.

And he adjusts accordingly. From the moment they arrive at the fight, Vegeta pegs overreliance on the Scouter's readout for the vulnerability that it is.

Like. He says this. He acknowledges that he understands. And not five minutes later:

BUT THE NUMBERS, VEGETA

THE NUMBERS SAID NO

Even then, Nappa flat-out ignores The Numbers if he doesn't like what's printed on them.

Nappa and Vegeta both disregard the printout this time, but in different ways. Vegeta observes that Earthlings suppress their ki, presenting a smaller number than their true ability. So when the Scouter says 5000, that means Goku's true level is likely well beyond that.

Nappa observes that Goku is probably weak so that's stupid and you're wrong.

Nappa just does things. He doesn't think or pay attention to what they're doing. He destroys a city as soon as they arrive, and Vegeta immediately lays into him for what a fucking idiotic thing to do that was.

He's a beast on a chain, barely restrained by his deference to Vegeta. Powerful, seemingly unstoppable, but needing Vegeta to hold his hand and walk him through the higher concepts of combat and martial arts.

An absolute fool. But a Saiyan elite fool.

[kurapikaspookie]

⋆˚࿔ Somethin’ Stupid | x ness  𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨ৎ obsessed!ness x reader fic, 1.1k word/20k words, ongoing.

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

A boy with big cheeks and a sheepish smile seems to be bent on making you work harder than you should.

 

It’s been hours under the harsh, German sun, hours running laps with him by your side, always keeping up, even though you’re a fast paced runner. He cheers you on, tells you there’s ‘only one more drill!’ although one always turns into two, and then into another round of hurried breaths because Ness can’t count. The two-hour session is over. Has been, technically.

 

Training to be a midfielder was not for the weak. Your father – Noel Noa – decided he needed to hone your skills. Apparently, he had ‘hired a professional footballer’ with ‘years of experience’, someone he knew personally. Of course, you had never expected the professional footballer to be a boy your age, not even taller than you, with bright eyes and an easy-going smile.

 

That same boy was standing in front of you, still managing to stay upright, even after the long lap the two of you completed. But you didn’t miss the way sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. Didn’t miss the way his chest was subtly rising and falling, hinting at his own fatigue.

 

“Good run, right?” Ness huffed, hands on his hips, his eyes wide and bearing into yours. “What next? Should we home your aim? That cross was a little off-“

 

You blink. “We’re… still doing this?”

 

“You said you wanted to improve,” he says, too sweet. “And I’m still technically on the clock.”

 

Except he’s not. His session ended fifteen minutes ago. And you’re pretty sure you saw him glance at his phone right before ignoring it.

 

“Wait, ‘m tired…” you groaned, stretching your arms behind your back. “Isn’t two hours enough? We’ve passed the time already…”

 

Ness’ eyes widen, as if he hadn’t realized how much time had passed. His hands immedeately sprung up, a light blush appearing on his cheeks, as if he’d just been caught in a heinous act. “Ah, sorry! Time really does fly by… I lost track of the time!”

 

This is the third time this week he’s “lost track of the time.”

 

You nod, smiling at him, still grateful somewhat. You said you wanted to push yourself today. “Don’t apologise, was just exhausted, that’s all.” You pause for a second, recalling his words, your eyebrows raising. “Hey, you said my pass was a little ott, right? I can’t leave without correcting something like <em> that </em>.”

 

Ness nodded, the sparkle returning to his eyes. He picked a ball up off the hard floor, throwing it up and down twice, eyes still intense on you. “Well, it was really just your form. You were leaning back, see? That would to an overfit, not ideal for your strikers. You wanna open up your hips and torso so you can see both the ball and your targets.”

 

Ness dropped the ball in front of you, before walking over behind you, the ball rolling in front of your feet, at a slight angle.

 

Ness clears his throat. “Is it okay if I-“

 

You nod, looking over to the side, catching a glimpse of his sweet, innocent, awkward smile.

 

“I don’t mind.” You respond, facing front again. You feel Ness’ hands on you, his breathing seemingly heavier. He seems close, his chin almost above your shoulder, his chest brushing against your back. His hands slide down to your hips as he angles them.

 

“So… uh… try and engage your core.” Ness’ voice is a quiet, calm and level like it always has been, contrasting his loud breaths.

 

Ness places a hand on your shoulder, pushing them down. “Normally, when I deliver cross paths, all I can think about is how cool I’ll look…” Ness’ voice trailed off, as if he said something he wasn’t meant to.

 

“Really?” You chuckle softly. “That’s the best advice I’ve heard in a while, honestly.”

 

Ness laughs as well, still slightly adjusting your posture, his touch soft and careful. He guides your body to the right position, concentration reflecting in the tense air. His hair smells nice, you realize. A soft, vanilla scent,, something you know you would grow to associate with him.

 

You nod, but it’s hard to focus with the way his breath ghosts over the back of your neck.

 

You clear your throat. “You always get this handsy when you train people?”

 

He startles, pulling back just slightly, cheeks instantly pink.

 

“I—uh—I’m sorry. It’s just the fastest way to correct posture, I didn’t mean to—”

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

(You shouldn’t like how warm his hand felt. You do.)

 

Ness watches you try again, serious now, nodding as you follow his instruction. And when you finally get the angle right, when the ball arcs cleanly, smoothly… he beams, clapping his hands once with genuine excitement.

 

“That was it!” he says. “That’s exactly what I was trying to show you—see, I knew you’d get it!”

 

You’re flushed from the heat, but something else stirs in your chest. The way he looks at you, like you just won a match, like you’re the only person on the pitch, it’s… a lot.

 

“So…” Ness starts. “Time goes really fast during these lessons, doesn’t it?”

 

You nod, trying to gauge where he was going with this. “Sure does.” You mutter sarcastically, because no, time - in fact - did not go fast. “Why?”

 

Ness chuckled again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should… I should give you a gift or something. Because of the extra time. Sorry about that.”

 

Ness gave you a wide, turtle smile, to which you nodded, your heart melting ever so slightly. “Do you want to… I don’t know… go out today? To a restaurant or something. My treat.”

 

You chuckled, giving him a small nod. “Yeah, sure. I can never turn down free food.”

 

__

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(A/N: small draft to make sure I’m on the right track! I am so snowed down with exams and results and my own personal book, so I will probably finish this during summer, expect like 20k words or so! Comments are SO motivating and appreciated!)

[thebellekeys]

A strong suggestion of plagiarism: Detailing the similarities between Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewels trilogy and Sarah J. Maas’s ACOTAR series

Anne Bishop released her The Black Jewels trilogy between 1998 and 2003. It is a dark fantasy book trilogy, part of a larger fantasy saga within the world of The Black Jewels. Sarah J. Maas released the first book in her A Court of Thorns and Roses fantasy romance series, which goes by the same name, in 2015. This popular series of Maas is still ongoing.

For the last decade, many individuals have noticed glaring similarities between Maas’ fantasy series and Bishop’s earlier books. From character names to world-building elements and plotlines, several readers have concluded it is highly possible that Sarah J. Maas has plagiarized major aspects of Bishop’s work in the ACOTAR series. For purely legal reasons, I am hesitant to say outright that Mass indeed plagiarized The Black Jewels in ACOTAR. However, I do believe that there is very strong evidence indicating that Maas may have done so. Please note all my screenshots here are all from The Black Jewels and I can provide more if necessary.

This post presents my observations of the similarities between Maas’ book series compared to Bishop’s trilogy. Indeed, there are several elements that are near-indentical in Maas’ series compared to Bishop’s. Whatever is in brackets is my shabby-MLA-esque way of referencing in which specific book you can find the content I'm talking about. I am aware others have made similar posts on Tumblr and Reddit, and I salute them! Here, I am merely outlining what I have noticed myself, and I imagine there will be significant overlap between his post and others online.

The Eyrians and the Illyrians

The Eyrians are a winged warrior race in TBJ, described as having tanned skin, black hair, gold eyes and "batlike wings". They are one of the long lived races and live thousands of years, based upon a lofty mountain range in their realm. They are a warrior race with a long history of physical fighting, often reputed to be "backward" by aristocrats in their realm (DOTB, HTTS). Their "dark, membranous" wings are the prized physical feature among their race and they have a tradition of turning to militarism and barbarism during skirmishes (DOTB). Cutting off or clipping an Eyrian's wings is the greatest torture and the worst dishonour for a warrior (HTTS). The Illyrians in ACOTAR are a virtually identical winged mountain warrior race with a similar culture and physical features including "black, membranous" wings and tanned skin (ACOTAR). The Eyrians, like the Illyrians, yearn for freedom of their expansive mountains and the war camps within them.

Eyrian males are raised to be warriors in hunting camps in the mountains, while females are forbidden from touching weapons and are confined to domestic pursuits. Eyrian women are often mistreated and are usually expected to be docile and subservient to their militaristic males (QOTD). This is the same gender construct present among the Illyrians in ACOTAR.

The Eyrians in TBJ carry prejudices against half-Eyrians, similar to the Illyrians' prejudices against "half-breeds" like Rhysand in the ACOTAR series (ACOMAF). The word “half-breed” is actually used to describe an important half-Eyrian in TBJ, Lucivar Yaslana.

The Eyrians have a practice known as the "Blood Run" which is a rite of passage taken by skilled Eyrian warriors in their mountains, rather similar to both "Nephelle's Run" and the "Blood Rite" which we learn about in ACOWAR and ACOSF respectively.

Powerful Illyrians, like Cassian and Azriel, use siphons—colourful, jeweled gauntlets that channel and hone their magical power. This is eerily similar to the way aristocrats in TBJ use jewels to channel and concentrate their power. The Illyrians also wear fighting leathers while the Eyrians wear black skintight leathers to go to battle.

Lucivar Yaslana and Cassian

Lucivar Yaslana is an Eyrian male who commands a large portion of the Eyrian troops. He is described as a "bastard", both as an insult and a jest in TBJ, because his father and his mother were unmarried and he did not grow up knowing his father who’s the High Lord. The same situation is pertinent to Cassian in ACOMAF whose "bastard reputation" precedes him.

In QOTD, Lucivar begins training Eyrian females to defend themselves and fight military-style, which is a radical move in the realm and receives a lot of push-back from fellow Eyrian males. Lucivar wants to make sure the Eyrian women tap into their strength, at least a little, to prevent them from being helpless when under attack or in battle. There's a few heartwarming training montages in QOTD where he whips them into shape. Cassian leads a similar initiative in ACOSF where he trains Illyrian women so they learn to defend themselves and some even become respected warriors.

Lucivar has gold eyes, big wings, big muscles, shoulder-length dark hair, and light brown skin. Cassian also has gold eyes, big wings, big muscles, shoulder-length dark hair, and light brown skin. Lucivar ultimately reports to the authority of his queen and serves her faithfully just as Cassian reports to authority of his High Lord and Lady and serves them faithfully.

Daemon SaDiablo and Rhysand

Daemon SaDiablo of TBJ was forced to serve as a sex slave in the court of an evil priestess, Dorothea of Hayll, and he has experienced a lot of trauma and pain for hundreds of years due to being forced to serve in the bedchamber of this abusive enslaver. Rhysand similarly serves as a sex slave to Amaratha for 50 years when she builds her court Under the Mountain. In TBJ, the evil queen who conquers the realm through cruelty and corruption, Dorothea, enslaves multiple males to serve her in bed and she even banishes Lucivar to land's brutal "salt mines" when he becomes disobedient. Daemon is known as "Hayll's whore" by the public in DOTB just as Rhysand is known as "Amarantha's whore" by the public in ACOTAR.

Daemon has jet-black hair, golden skin, and a frighteningly beautiful face. Daemon is also known as a natural Black Widow, one of the one only male Black Widows ever in their world. As such, Daemon is one of the most powerful males in all the realm. Rhysand, similarly, has dark hair, a stunningly beautiful face, and has unique powers making him the most powerful High Lord. Daemon, like Rhysand, becomes the highest ranking male in his "Dark Court" and he is also the main love interest (QOTD).

Daemon has a habit of putting his hands in his pocket when he's nervous and/or trying to intimidate people. Rhysand has the same habit. Daemon is feared for his sadism and power in TBJ but is, deep down, a good person and a devoted lover, similar to Rhysand’s persona being much crueler and sadistic than his real personality (ACOMAF).

Daemon originally starts seeing the protagonist of the series, Jaenelle, in his dreams and he recognizes while enslaved that she is the realm's salvation (DOTB, QOTD). Rhysand also begins seeing glimpses of Feyre in his dreams while enslaved Under the Mountain and he knew she was Prythian’s hope (ACOMAF).

Wingspans

We know that in the ACOTAR world, the wingspan of an Illyrian male is supposedly proportional to their, yunno, male parts. This is also the case in The Black Jewels where, in the second book, we learn a male's wingspan also corresponds to the size of his… down there.

Scents and gender

In TBJ, magical figures have the abilities to identify or smell another person based on his or her "psychic scent", which is their unique scent. The psychic scent also allows them to sense the magical abilities, emotions and traumatic experiences of other persons. Romantic couples also have a keen awareness of their partner's scent. This is the likewise the case in the ACOTAR world where mates and fae can identify and read each other based on specific scents including their arousal.

In TBJ, you can put up a "psychic shield" to stop someone from peering into your thoughts and reading you through your psychic scent. It's the same in the ACOTAR world, a concept introduced in ACOMAF, where you can put up a mental shield or barrier to stop someone like the daemati from breaking into your mind.

The males in TBJ can become quite territorial and possessive over their women and mates, almost animalistic based on their emotions. They purr and snarl and growl quite often, and Sarah J. Maas uses identical descriptive language regarding the bat boys.

Dragons and Amren

There's an older female character called Draca in TBJ who is a dragon in human form, trapped in a human body. Draca, who serves in the main character's Dark Court, has to decipher old texts in the TBJ because she is the only one who understands the ancient languages they contain. Draca is referred to as the "ancient one." This is exactly like Amren being known as the little "ancient one", a powerful angel in human form who is the only one that can decipher the Book of Breathings in ACOMAF.

There is a "creature" deep beneath the Keep and library of the High Lord of Hell in TBJ who, in HTTS, turns out to be a mighty dragon whose name is Lorn. Likewise, beneath the library in Velaris lurks Bryaxis who is a dangerous dragon-esque creature (ACOWAR).

Other worldbuilding plotpoints

There are “High Lords” of various realms in The Black Jewels and High Lord is not a traditional feudal title throughout history or mythology. One major character in TBJ is the High Lord of Hell, Saetan SaDiablo. His court, and that of his adopted daughter, is known as the Dark Court or the "Court of Darkness". Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord who presides over the Night Court which is also, in many ways, Prythian's own Court of Darkness.

The Dark Court in TBJ has a "first circle" that is comprised of the queen's most trusted courtiers. Rhysand's Court of Dreams in ACOMAF also has an "inner circle".

Jaenelle is known as "Dreams Made Flesh" because of her immense power and ability to deliver her lands from evil. Jaenelle was a saviour-figure who was dreamt up by the "dreamers" in her realm who were suffering and oppressed for many years, ruled over by cruel queens (QOTD). Likewise, the Court of Dreams and Feyre's defeat of Amarantha were, more or less, the product of dreamers who wished upon the stars (ACOMAF). Just like how Feyre possesses the power of all seven High Lords, Jaenelle is the magical figure to possess the power of all the various colored jewels in TBJ.

There is a character named Prythian in The Black Jewels who is a powerful priestess, and the main land that the ACOTAR series is set in is called Prythian. There's also an assassin-prostitute character in TBJ named Surreal, and the Suriel is character in the ACOTAR series.

The sigil/seal of Janelle's Dark Court in TBJ, we learn in the second book, is an image of a mountain with a unicorn’s horn above it. The main sigil of the Night Court in ACOTAR is a mountain below three stars. The vastness and freedom of mountains are a motif in both TBJ and ACOMAF.

Conclusion: There are others online who have pointed out the similarities between The Black Jewels and the Throne of Glass series, but it’s been many years since I read Throne of Glass and I’m rusty so I won’t touch it. Did Sarah J. Maas rip off Anne Bishop’s work? I think it could be proven in a court of law, but I’m quite hesitant to say outright that she’s guilty of plagiarism. Is Sarah J. Maas guilty of serious unoriginality? Yes, definitely. A preliminary search online will tell you that Sarah J. Maas has openly praised Bishop’s writing and she has even said that Lucivar is her favourite fantasy man of all time. Bishop's books were released when Maas was a teenager. Make of this what you will.

I’ve used a variety of tags on this post because, honestly, I’m not sure whether it falls into the “anti” category of posts or not. I think this post neutral in tone and exists just to catalogue the similarities between both series. I hence believe both fans and antis might appreciate it... for different reasons.

[cyberslvts]

DEPRIVED || w. maximoff

Summary: Following the events in Westview, wanda, obsessed and unhinged, becomes determined to get you back.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI smut, oral ( r recieving), enchanted strap (r recieving), blood, consumption of blood, pain kink, slight breeding kink, choking, marking, brief restraints, reader has lowkey lost it,

Pairing: Wanda maximoff x witch!reader

wc: 4.5k

note: Was in the halloween mood and had a craving to write witch reader. Also I apologize for being MIA for a hot minute school has been kicking my ass

In the dimly lit and clandestine lair, you stood amidst a chaotic array of potion bottles, spell books, and mystical artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of arcane ingredients, and the room was bathed in an eerie, pulsating glow emanating from enchanted crystals scattered about. Rows of tall, ancient shelves were lined with tomes containing secrets of the mystical arts.

Your eyes fixated on the ominous pages of the Darkhold stood at the center of the lair, your brows furrowed in concentration. The book seemed to emit an unsettling energy, its dark runes shifting and writhing like a sentient being. Your hands cradled glowing orbs of blue magic, feeling a tingling sensation of power coursing through them.

Your mind crackled with a frenzied electric charge. The relentless grip of sleep deprivation fuels your obsession. The effects of prolonged wakefulness gnawed at your sanity, leaving your thoughts frayed and disjointed. Muscles twitch uncontrollably as if charged by lightning flashing within your wide, bloodshot eyes. Your voice, barely a murmur, subconsciously reciting spells and rituals from the book's ancient pages, the words stumbling from your lips in a fevered trance.

Everything around you seemed louder and more intense than usual as if your senses were on overdrive. It was like your body was a sponge soaking up all the noise and energy in the room.

As you delved deeper into the forbidden knowledge within the Darkhold, a sudden disturbance rippled through the room. The sound of crackling energy filled the air, and a portal of swirling scarlet light materialized before You, Startled, you turned to face the unexpected intrusion.

Emerging from the portal, with a sultry and determined expression, was Wanda Maximoff. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, and she stepped forward with an air of confidence. Despite the anger that still simmered within you, Wanda's presence sent a shiver down their spine.

It felt like seeing a ghost

In the not-so-distant past, you and Wanda Maximoff had been deeply entwined in a passionate and tumultuous love affair Your connection was built on an understanding of each other's innermost desires.

You, a gifted witch in your own right, had always admired Wanda's incredible power. Your initial meeting had been marked by sparks, both figurative and literal, as you recognized kindred spirits in each other. You spent countless nights together, honing your magical skills, exploring the boundaries of your abilities, and indulging in the fiery lust filled passions that burned between you.

But as your love deepened, so did the complexity of your relationship.Wanda's insatiable thirst for power often put her on a dangerous path, seeking forbidden knowledge that few could comprehend. It was during one of her quests for dark magic that everything changed.In a moment of desperation, Wanda cast a spell that trapped you in a false reality—a twisted version of suburban life in Westview. In this artificial world, you lived a mundane existence, blissfully unaware of the magic and powers you once wielded. Your memories were altered, your true identity erased, and Wanda had complete control over your life

For you, it was a nightmare and a dream come true. You oscillated between feelings of betrayal and intense longing. The life she had created for you two was everything you could have ever dreamed of, filled with the perfect haven of your loving family

When the Westview Hex was eventually broken, and you regained your true identity and memories, the rush of emotions was overwhelming. You confronted Wanda, your anger, burned but the love you once shared still lingered beneath the surface. It was a complex and conflicted love, one that was impossible erase

Wanda, haunted by her actions and desperate to atone for her mistakes, fled to find the Darkhold—a powerful and dangerous book of magic that held the key to her quest for the power she would need to reclaim the life that was harshly taken from her.

In an attempt to divert Wanda until they built up the necessary forces to defeat her, Doctor Strange, aware of the dangers that the Darkhold posed, entrusted it to you for safekeeping, knowing that you were one of the few who could resist its seductive pull

At the sight of her, you immediately conjured the dark hold shut, the glowing hues of blue dimmed around you as you lowered yourself to the ground, standing before her.

"Y/n," Wanda purred, stepping out of the portal her voice husky and laced with desire.

Before she could get too close, you crossed your arms in front of your body and threw them outwards. A tendril of blue magic wrapped around her arms and legs, effectively freezing her movements. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" you demanded, your tone filled with anger.

Wanda smirked, Seemingly amused by your reaction. She could have easily overpowered you, but she wanted you to have your fun. She didn't want to scare you. Not yet, at least.

"Oh, Y/n," she grinned, her eyes never leaving yours. "How I've missed your fiery spirit.”

“You shouldn't be here.”

Wanda's expression grew more serious as she struggled against your magical bonds. "I need the Darkhold, Y/n. It's the only way to undo the chaos I've caused."

Your grip on the magical restraints tightened,and you shot back, "Save your breath, Wanda. Me and you both know you have no intentions of doing that”

Wanda's eyes flashed with a hint of frustration “You’re always so stubborn”

The room crackled with tension as the truth hung in the air. Both of you were harboring secrets, aware of each other's desires and motives

You stepped closer to her your fingers twisting in the air to hold the restraint “I won't ask again, why are you here.”

“I needed to see you” she confessed, her voice husky, her gaze never wavering from yours.

You broke out into a sarcastic smile, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek as you shook your head in disbelief. The madness that swirled between you and Wanda had reached a fever pitch, and it was clear that this reunion would only further entangle you both in the web of chaos that defined your complex relationship.

“You didn't seem so eager to see me when you left me in Westview” Your voice came out sharper then you intended. obviously still hurt from her actions. The way she had left you was awful. Alone, surrounded by ring of flashing red and blue lights that demanded answers to questions you couldnt even comprehend

Wanda let out an exasperated sigh a sense of guilt building up inside her “I had no other choice y/n. Strange was after me and You would have never gone with me”

The soft flicker of candlelight casted an eerie, shadow on Wanda's face, accentuating the mysterious allure that always seemed to surround her. Her eyes, partially obscured by the dim light, bore into you with a mix of longing and lust. You couldn't help but notice how her figure looked in the low light – the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the seductive curve of her lips as they formed that infuriating smirk. The undeniable attraction that pulsed between you two was like a magnetic force, drawing you together. It was a desire that both thrilled and repulsed you.

“Because you trapped me, you stole my life!” you echoed with a sardonic laugh, your voice tinged with a hint of hysteria. the memories of your past experiences with Wanda had driven you into a state of rage and paranoia, endless days and night spent waiting for her return

“It was the only way to protect you,” she argued back, her conviction unwavering, convinced that she had done what was necessary to shield you from the dangers of the outside world.

Your eye twitched with rage as you denied her allegations vehemently. "You're delusional Wanda, You just wanted to control me.”

Her head dropped to the floor, and her shoulders shook as she let out a menacing chuckle. When her eyes returned to you, they were three times darker, and the room itself seemed to respond to her shifting presence as if the shadows deepened around her

"When will you understand," she whispered, her voice now dripping with an eerie, otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if she had tapped into something primal and ancient, a power beyond comprehension.

"I would kill for you, Y/n," her words took on an ominous weight, the air growing heavy with her declaration. "I would rip myself to pieces if it meant keeping you safe," she continued, her breathing growing heavier, each word laced with an intensity that seemed to vibrate through the very walls of the room

Her grin widened, taking on an unsettling edge as if she could see right through you, right into the depths of your soul. The intensity of her gaze was suffocating, and it terrified you to your core.

"And you fucking love that," she hissed, her eyes glinting with a manic fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. “It excites you.”

"Shut up!" You couldn't contain your frustration any longer. With a surge of power, a flash of brilliant blue lit up the room as the magical restraints around Wanda tightened. She gritted her teeth, and a prominent vein bulged on her neck, her struggle against the sudden and intense pressure evident in her clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

"Well, someone has certainly been doing their homework," a deranged expression of pain and excitement glowed on her face. "I wasn't sure how far along you had gotten in the Darkhold, but my god..."

"Oh, for the love of God," you muttered through clenched teeth, your jaw tightening in frustration. as you struggled to maintain your composure in the face of her unsettling revelations. "What kind of deluded fantasies have you come up with now?"

The room seemed to hum with tension, The past and the present collided, and the lines between reality and the pull of the Darkhold blurred your thoughts into a red haze.

"I can feel it. The darkness you've been studying. It's consuming you, just like it did me." The switch in her tone made your blood run cold. Her eyes locked onto yours, searching for a reaction "I've been watching you, Y/n."

For months, Wanda had been studying you, watching you from the shadows, watching your obsession grow with every passing day. She had guided you, manipulated events, all with the intent of drawing you into the same darkness that had overtaken her. But she had to be patient, allowing you to come to it on your own, letting the seductive pull of corruption work its magic until you were entangled in its irresistible web.

“You weren't supposed to read the darkhold, you were only supposed to watch over it” Her voice dripped with a sultry and unhinged desire as she taunted you. “You’re no better than me.”

The consuming darkness of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, as you recalled the ghastly events of the past few months. At first, you only started studying the Darkhold for research purposes, perhaps trying to understand Wanda, to fathom why she did the things she did. And yet, in the depths of your mind, the Darkhold's whispers grew louder, its promises of untold power and the allure of the forbidden knowledge beginning to take hold. The more you studied it, the more it consumed your thoughts, leaving you with an insatiable hunger for its secrets.

While you were lost in the sea of memories, a beam of red magic shot past the corner of your eye, and before you knew it, you were sent tumbling back to your feet.

You stumbled backward, Adrenaline beginning to course through your veins. Wanda advanced on you with an unsettling mixture of hunger and madness. She threw her head back, and a loud cackle echoed in the room. "Isn't it exhilarating! The power, the temptation. It's irresistible!"

As Wanda closed in on you, you couldn't deny the odd thrill that surged through you. Her presence was overwhelming and a part of you couldn't help but be endlessley drawn to her.

“You're sick.” you spat out, backing away until your back hit your desk. “You’re fucking sick!”

“Sick with love,” she returned with a hint of seductive playfulness

You turned away from her, your hands anchored to the edge of your desk, your shoulders rising to your ears as you tried to fathom how you ended up here, in this twisted dance with the woman who was once the center of your world. The woman who you spent months missing, nights filled with aching longing and days spent wondering where she was, if she was dead or alive.

“Dont you remember our life together” Her tone was soft and convincing “How nice it was”

She came up behind you, her arms wrapping around you, and she smiled when she didn't feel you push them away.

Painful flashes of your memories in Westview flooded into your mind. You remembered your two boys, whom you were equally bonded to. You remembered the endless movie nights and family dinners, waking up and falling asleep next to Wanda every day had become a feeling you grew accustomed to. Those memories were a bittersweet reminder of the life you had shared before everything went awry, and they added to the torment of your current situation.

You remembered how safe and loved you had felt. But it wasn't real. None of it was real. You had told yourself that countless times—nights when everything was too quiet, and the familiar suffocating feeling of loneliness threatened to consume you. You ached to be back in Westview, with your family. But most of all, you yearned to be with Wanda. the memories of what you had shared weighed heavily on your heart.

“I know who you are Y/N,” You could feel her breath against your neck as her hands rubbed mindless patterns down your stomach. “I know what you crave”

A surge of anger suddenly lit up inside you, furious about how she made you feel. Angry that you had spent months alone, going insane with paranoia and the uncertainty of where she was in the world, Angry that she imprisoned you, controlled you, manipulated you. And you liked it. You loved the fire between you, the intense and deranged connection that bound you together. After all of that, she remained the one person who understood you best, the one who endlessly craved and longed for you.

You suddenly spun around and gripped onto the leather edge of her suit dragging her down until her lips roughly met yours.

Wanda's response was immediate, her hunger for you matching your own. Her arms enveloped you, pulling you up until your legs wrapped around her. Her strides were long across the room trying to find the closest surface to hold you up against.

She pressed you against the oak of your bookcase, and you let out a whimper against her lips when you felt the painful bite of your spell book spines digging into your back.

Wanda took attention to this and used her magic to smoothly fuse through the bookcase and into the privacy of your bedroom. Her determination to be with you becoming increasingly evident. She tossed you onto the bed and crawled over you, reconnecting your lips into a searing kiss.

Her tongue wrestled with yours untill you were moaning into each other's mouths. With one hand holding herself up the other slid up and down your thigh, Warm and possessive. With an expert touch, Her lips moved down to your neck, where she immediately began nipping at that spot she knew you loved so much.

Your breaths were starting to become uneven and you through an arm over her neck, Wanting to be closer to her. You felt Wanda smile into your skin, reveling in your neediness

She conjured away the rest of your clothes, leaving you fully exposed infront of her longing gaze. Your body shivered when the textured leather of Wandas suit rubbed up against you, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

Lowering herself down, she pressed her lips to one of your erect nipples, envelopong it in a sensual kiss. Her mouth then tenderly sucked on the sensitive bud while her fingers skillfuklly squeezed and pinched the other. She glanced up at you, her eyes filled with satisfaction as she took in the sight of your blissful expression, eyes squeezed shut and your mouth slightly parted, completely lost in the pleasure she was giving you.

“I want to taste you” she mumbled against your skin, Descending down the mattress, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down your stomach. She kneeled in front of the bed and roughly pulled your legs until they were hanging off.

You could feel her breath on your pussy as she kissed everywhere, purposefully missing the one place you needed it the most.

She gently slide a finger into your hole and let out a low groan when she felt your wet walls immediately suck her in further.

“Still so responsive... you really are mine, aren’t you baby?” she mumbled in between kisses to your thighs, when you didn't respond she nipped at your skin.

“I will never be yours again” your breathed out, your chest rising and falling with every breath you took in

Something twisted inside Wanda at your words and a dark expression overcame her features as her grip on your thighs involuntarily tightened.

“Well see how you feel after this, pretty girl”

The pet's name is spat out like a curse. But you don't miss the way her tongue rolls over the words like she meant it. Like she actually thinks you are pretty. And so, despite the situation your cheeks burn red, and your heart hammers in your chest.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before you felt her roughly slide two fingers into your dripping hole, immediately curling and hitting your sweet spot. A satisfied grin formed on Wanda's face as she watched your head fall back in pleasure.

Unable to wait any longer She dropped her head and replaced her fingers with her tongue, moaning at the taste of you. You glanced down and felt your pussy clench at the erotic sight of Wanda stuffed between your legs.

She opened her mouth wide and immersed her tongue as deep as it could go. Swirling and twisting in all the right places. It had been so long, Too long since she had gotten to taste her girl, the urgency and desperation became evident when she started lapping at you like a ravenous creature.

A sharp hiss escaped your lips as the metal points of her crown pressed into the tender flesh of your thighs. You instinctively squirmed and writhed in an attempt to escape the painful sensation

She only tightened her hold on your thighs keeping them secured to her shoulders “Stay still," she commanded, her voice dripping with desire. "I'm not done yet.”

Your response was reduced to a mere whimper as an overwhelming sensation engulfed you. All of your nerves felt like they were on fire. You couldn't even form a coherent sentence. It all felt too good.

You felt your orgasm build embarrassingly fast, the tight coil in your stomach winding even tighter. It had been an eternity since someone had touched you this expertly—no one living up to the lofty standards Wanda had set.

Her tongue dipped into you and then dragged along your slit until it reached your clit, where she relentlessley started sucking on the hardened bud. Your moans echoed throughout the room As you began to mindlessly grind up into her mouth.

Every roll of your hips sent the sharp material of the crown deeper into your skin. Your mind began to feel fuzzy as it fell into a haze of overwhelming pleasure. Wanda was drunk off the sight of you right now. Fucked-out and completely at her mercy. Her chin was coated in your slick as she shamelessly devoured you.

Her eyes were glued onto your body, taking in the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure, your limbs squirming under her, watching you struggle to fight of your orgasm only encouraged her to go faster.

She pressed her face further into your core. A crimson streak of blood trickled down your thighs and onto her crown. Mingling with your arousal.

“Cum for me baby,” she commanded with a throaty groan, her fingers digging into your thighs. “show me that you’re mine”

You let out a loud moan and your hands flew to the sides of her head, Tangling into the mess of frayed red hair, Wanda's own moans harmonized with vibrations coursing through you, heightening the intensity of your orgasm.

Your hips slowed their pace as the waves of pleasure subsided, leaving your body pulsating with the aftermath of your climax. Breathing heavily, you propped yourself up on your elbows, your eyes fixated on Wanda who was undeniably captivated by the streams of blood tracing their way down your thigh.

A sinister smirk curved your lips as you taunted “You twisted bitch, you love it when I bleed for you”

Wanda responded with a chilling expression. Without breaking eye contact, She re-wrapped her arm around you. Her fingers possessively digging into your skin. She dragged her tongue over the cut, savoring the metallic taste

Your eyes fluttered shut, The gentle warmth of Wanda's tongue soothed the irritated burn, providing a small measure of comfort. As she rose from between your legs her hand found your throat, gripping it with a firm hold that demanded your attention.

Your eyes reluctantly reopened to meet Wanda's intense gaze. Her lips captured yours in a demanding kiss, and the lingering taste of blood mixed with your arousal coated your taste buds. It was a heady mixture that left you feeling undeniably dirty yet strangely exhilarated.

“You belong to me,” she whispered against your lips, her hand still wrapped around your throat. “You are mine to touch, to pleasure, to mark. Don't you ever forget that.”

You smiled and bit your lip, amused by her sudden possessiveness. Using her magic, she removed the rest of her clothes and waved her hand in front of her hips until a long scarlet dildo attached to a black harness reappeared.

You bit into your lip harder as recognition washed over you. It was your favorite toy, the one that allowed Wanda to intimately feel every inch of your throbbing pussy. You felt yourself clench, Anticipation coursing through your veins.

Still hovering over you, She held the base of the strap and dragged the tip along your slit a low groan emitting from both of your mouths at the contact. You began to grow impatient, arching yourself up as you watched her tease herself.

She finally pushed herself into you, and an unrestrained moan escaped her parted lips as she savored the exquisite sensation of your snug, velvety walls enveloping her. She stilled herself for a moment, allowing you to gradually adjust to the fullness.

“I missed your pussy so much” she groaned out, coming down to press her chest against yours as her hips began to rock into you. The toy curves up and and slides against your insides in the most perfect way, she’s nearly halfway in and you clamp down on her.

“Fuck, you're squeezing me so good.” Wanda leans closer to you, inhaling your scent as one of her hands grips your thigh. She pulls the toy out until just the tip remains inside before roughly snaping her hips forward. You loudly moaned into her ear, digging your nails into her back.

“Harder” you whined, wrapping your legs around her waist and pressing your heels into her back, edging her in deeper. “Please, wanda”

She grinned and started pounding into you harder. Pushing her cock in as deep as it could go. “I knew you were still my slut.”

You could only respond with a breathless call of her name. She further pushes your body into the mattress making you feel even smaller as her strap rams into your pussy. you grip onto her tighter and your moans float all throughout the room, they bounce around the walls and come slamming back into your own ears.

“Yeah, you like being called what you are? Because you're my slut. Mine” Her movements are becoming erratic. The mattress squeaks under you and your headboard slams into the wall with every forceful thrust of her hips. “im never letting you slip away again.”

Your hands claw deep red streaks across her back that move with every flex of her muscles. Her hand grip your ass, grinding you onto her cock as her thrusts begin to lose their rhythem.

She thrusts at an angle that has you seeing white light. Your whole body shook as your orgasm crashed over you. Every nerve was sent into overdrive, no feeling could ever compare to this. Being under Wanda, your limbs tightly bound to her as you fell apart on her cock. It all felt so right

“Fuck, oh fuck, You're gonna make me cum” she grunted, shoving her face into your neck. As she chased her high, tortured with the need to release into your wet heat “Gonna fill this pussy up so good-Fuck!”

Her hips roll into you until she is fully submerged in your pussy. Loud moans and whines fill your ears as you feel thick ropes of her cum paint your insides, filling you to the brim until it splatters on the insides of your thighs. Her hips are still fucking into you and your cunt wraps around her cock pulling her in further.

After she rides out the last bits of her high, her body collapses onto you, pressing you into the mattress. You feel her shaky sighs against your neck, and her body slowly relaxes as you soothingly run your hands through her hair. Just when you think she might have fallen asleep, she abruptly leans up to look down at you.

“You're a fucking nightmare.” you breathlessly whisper

She responds by kissing your lips, her love and obsession intermingling in that stolen moment. You can't help but return the kiss with the same feverish fervor, wrapping your arms around her neck and arching into her.

This new side of you excited wanda to exhilarating heights. Even in the early stages of your relationship, you had always embraced your darker nature, and it was one of the things that had initially drawn her to you, but this newfound level of intensity made her pulse with excitement about your future together, the things you'd do together, the things you'd learn, all the things she would teach you.

You were just so perfect for her, you had always been, and In your bones, you knew you could never be without wanda, it was as if the two of you were eternally connected at your very core.

A smile stretched across your face as she gazed into your eyes. It was clear that your journey into the depths of darkness was far from over.

[ihatedtoadmit]

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

[elizabethsnuts]

could you write bucky wanting to be able to braid his daughters hair but he doesn’t know how so he practices on nat and then their daughter being over the moon when bucky does her hair the next morning? 🥹

Perfect Braid

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Natasha helps Bucky practice doing braids on her hair so he can do the perfect braid just for you.

———

Bucky Barnes was a skilled man, honed through decades of war, and survival. Yet, there was one particular skill he lacked —braiding hair. It seemed simple enough, a trivial task in comparison to the life-or-death situations he had navigated countless times. But when you had approached him one evening with wide, hopeful eyes and a hairbrush in hand, he realized it was anything but trivial. It was a moment that required precision, care, and above all, love.

"Daddy, can you braid my hair like Mama does?" You had asked, your voice filled with innocent trust.

Bucky had knelt down, taking the brush from your little hand, his heart swelling with a mixture of affection and apprehension. "I'll try my best, baby doll."

His first attempt was a disaster. The strands slipped through his fingers, tangled messily despite his best efforts. Your giggles were gentle, not mocking, but they only heightened his determination. Bucky promised you he would get it right, and that was a promise he intended to keep.

That night, after you were tucked into bed, Bucky found Natasha sitting on the couch, reading. She looked up as he approached, one eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

"Nat, I need your help," He admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

"With what?" She asked, closing her book and giving him her full attention.

"Braiding hair."

Natasha's lips curved into a smile, a rare and genuine expression that lit up her face. "Never thought I’d see the day you became a big softie," She teased. "Y/N asked you to braid her hair, huh?"

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his own lips. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. But I'm serious. N/N asked me, I want to do it right."

Natasha stood, gesturing for him to sit. "Alright, sit down. I'll show you."

She sat down in front of him, her long, red hair cascading over her shoulders. Bucky watched intently as Natasha began to separate her hair into sections, her hands moving with practised ease.

"First, you need three equal sections," She explained, guiding his hands to mimic her movements. "Then, you take the right section and cross it over the middle, like this. Then the left section over the new middle. Keep repeating that pattern."

Bucky's metal fingers felt clumsy and awkward compared to Natasha's graceful movements. He fumbled, dropping the sections more than once, but Natasha was patient. She corrected him gently, her instructions clear and calm. Slowly, the pattern began to make sense, and Bucky found a rhythm.

"You're getting it," Natasha encouraged, feeling the braid start to take shape under his fingers.

They practised for hours, and Bucky was determined to perfect his technique. Natasha's hair became a testament to his efforts, the braids improving steadily. Finally, when he managed a braid that was neat and tight, a grin full of pride and accomplishment lit up his face.

"Thanks, Nat. Really," He said, his gratitude evident. He kissed her cheek and smiled.

She smiled at him, a glint of pride in her eyes. "Anytime."

The next morning, Bucky woke early, nervous but ready. He found you already awake, your hair a wild halo around your head. You beamed up at him as he approached with the brush and a few hair ties in hand.

"Ready for your braid, baby doll?" He asked.

You nodded eagerly, climbing onto a chair to sit still while Bucky worked. He combed through your hair carefully, recalling Natasha's instructions. His hands moved methodically, sectioning the hair and beginning the braid. Right over the middle, left over the middle, repeat.

Minutes passed, and the room filled with the quiet sounds of his concentration and your soft humming of nursery rhymes. When he finished, Bucky secured the end with a hair tie and stepped back to admire his work. It wasn't perfect, but it was a braid—tight and mostly even.

You reached up, touching the braid with awe. Your face lit up with joy, your eyes sparkling. "Daddy, it's beautiful!" You exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

Bucky hugged you back, his heart swelling with pride and love. "I'm glad you like it, sweetheart."

You pulled back, looking at him with pure adoration. "You're the best, Daddy."

At that moment, Bucky felt a profound sense of accomplishment. He had faced countless challenges in his life, but none compared to the simple joy of making his daughter happy. As he watched you skip away, your braid bouncing with each step, he knew he would braid your hair every day if you wanted, because, for you, he would do anything.

Natasha entered the room, having observed the whole scene from the doorway. She gave Bucky a nod of approval, her eyes warm. She turned to you with a big smile on her face, "Did Daddy do you hair just like Mama does?"

You nodded your head quickly, almost jumping up and down in pure excitement. "Yes! Yes! Yes! I love it!"

As the day went on, Bucky found himself smiling more often, the memory of your delighted expression a constant source of joy. It was a small victory, but in his life, small victories were often the most meaningful. And this one, this braid, was the most important of all.

[dipperscavern]

Hi Dippy! Congrats on 1k!! You’re fr the best!

May I pleaseee have a spell casting with Robb and the prompt: the look of absolute admiration and love one gives when the other isn't looking/cue their other friends gagging and telling them to “stand up”? Maybe an archery component watching in awe, betrothed fluffy pre war vibes? All the creative freedom to you there!

Tysm! 🎉🥳💚

- 🍏

hi my lovely!! thanks for requesting, the starklings were so fun to write :3

18. the look of absolute admiration and love one gives when the other isn't looking, cue their friends gagging & telling them to “stand up”

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

“That’s not fair — you’re cheating!”

brans voice reverberates through the courtyard, where he’s decided to accuse robb of cheating in your archery competition. theon, jon, and arya all perk up at the accusation. robb, your betrothed, takes it as serious as any other; and ceases nocking his arrow to address it properly.

“It’s not cheating if I’m better than you, Bran.” he says, bending towards brans level. you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh, and ned & catelyn, watching, both find themselves smiling at the sight.

“You hit the bullseye each of your turns!” robb’s only gone twice, but that doesn’t seem to mean much to the little starkling.

arya has a look of disbelief written on her face, and turns to bran. “Just because you can’t hit the target more than twice—“

knowing his father & lady catelyn are watching, jon clears his throat, interrupting the fight before it has a chance to begin. “My lady, I believe it’s your turn.”

jon is successful, aryas mouth clamping shut as soon as you’re mentioned. the chance to watch your skill with a bow always captures her full attention. as you move to exchange places in front of the target with robb, your eyes meet, sharing a knowing look with barely concealed smiles.

you hit bullseye, of course, which makes bran sigh. arya, on the other hand, has a massive grin on her face; and when robb sees it, he knows he’ll be fighting her for your attention.

as bran moves to exchange places with you, you notice the dejected expression he wears. you remember how hard it was to hone your archery skills, and that was without an older sibling you felt like you had to live up to.

you sling your bow around your shoulder, stepping aside to give bran room, while also not leaving his side. he looks at you, confused. you nod to the target. “Notch your arrow,” you say, noting his nerves. “Go on.”

he gulps, but heeds your command anyways. the others watch with peaked interest, but none as much as robb. how lovely can you be? apparently, much lovelier than he thought possible. you crouch next to bran, and gently fix his position.

“You and the arrow are a team. It waits for your guide.” you say, both of you watching the target. brans lips part in concentration. “Breathe.”

bran deeply breathes in, and then breathes out. only a second after he expels the air from his lungs, he lets go, and while it’s no bullseye — it’s not far from it. cheers erupt, and you & bran share a smile at his small victory.

“He hit the target!” arya exclaims, and jon nudges her with his hip.

“Nicely done!” ned calls down, and bran grins widely at the open praise from his father. you grin at seeing bran succeed.

robb, arms crossed, notices that; and looks at you the way his parents look at each other. admiration and appreciation swims in his gaze.

he can’t help it, watching you guide his siblings with such kindness tugs on his heartstrings, making him forget himself — and he stares openly. the way he looks at you as you has arya gagging, as theon gives robb a look of his own. (equal disgust)

“Stand up.”

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: For Introverts. Pick an Affirmation

Left to Right= Pile 1-> Pile 3 [Bonus: Sailor Moon Gifs]

Introduction

This reading is dedicated to all the introverts out there. In this loud world here, this reading gives you some encouraging messages as to how to appreciate your quiet persona. Remember that with your introversion there is much strength that could be observed and used for an improved life. This reading is for anyone who has either chosen the introverted lifestyle for the time being or for anyone who has naturally always been that way.

P.s : Check in if you are an INFJ/ INFP/INTP/ INTJ/ ISFJ/ ISTJ/ ISFP/ISTP

If You Liked This Reading Sign up to TheObsidianPages777 Newsletter

+Free E-Guides on New Moon Manifestation and Gem Stone for Life Path

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Pile 1

The Ace of Cups card that you received symbolizes in here the abundance, nurturing, and connection with nature. As an introvert, you have a rich inner world that attracts love and promotes good health. Your calm and nurturing nature draws people to you, creating meaningful connections that are essential for your well-being.

Secondly, you have also received the Two of Cups. This represents deep connections and meaningful relationships. Your introverted nature allows you to cultivate profound and genuine relationships. When you maintain necessary connections, you create a fertile ground for love to blossom and for your emotional health to flourish.

Furthermore, the Star Card signifies hope, inspiration, and a sense of peace. Your ability to find tranquility within yourself makes you a beacon of calmness for others. This inner peace contributes significantly to your overall health and well-being, as well as to those around you.

Reasons to Love yourself more: You are someone who exudes a serene and calming presence. Your ability to listen deeply and connect on a soulful level makes you incredibly attractive. Your nurturing spirit and gentle demeanor make others feel safe and valued in your company.

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Pile 2

Having received the High priestess card it represents intuition, mystery, and inner knowledge. Your introverted nature allows you to tap into your subconscious and draw inspiration from within. You have a deep well of creativity that is waiting to be explored.

Additionally the Hermit card that showed up symbolizes introspection and solitude. Embracing your introverted side gives you the space to develop your artistic talents. Solitude is your creative sanctuary where your imagination can flourish and your unique artistic voice can emerge.

You got the Page of Cups and this card signifies creativity, intuition, and new beginnings. Your introverted nature nurtures your artistic side, leading to bursts of creative inspiration and innovative ideas. Engaging with your artistic endeavors will bring joy and fulfillment.

Reasons to Love yourself more: You possess a quiet allure and an enigmatic presence that draws people in. Your introspective nature and thoughtful demeanor make you captivating. Your artistic expression and unique perspective add depth and richness to your beauty.

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Pile 3

You have got the Magician card. This card represents skill, resourcefulness, and the power to manifest your goals. Your introverted nature allows you to focus deeply on your projects. You have all the tools you need to succeed in your educational or career endeavors.

There is further the Eight of Pentacles. This card symbolizes dedication, hard work, and mastery. Your ability to concentrate and work diligently on your goals sets you apart. Your introversion helps you to hone your skills and develop expertise in your chosen field.

The Chariot Card that has been drawn signifies determination, willpower, and success. Your introverted nature helps you stay focused and driven. You are on the path to achieving great things, and your ability to concentrate and persevere will lead you to success in your career or educational pursuits.

Reasons to Love yourself more: You have a determined and focused aura that is incredibly compelling. Your dedication and drive are evident in everything you do, making you an inspiring figure to those around you. Your inner strength and resilience enhance your overall beauty and presence.

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[doumadono]

A/N: this small thing drew inspiration from a recent conversation I had with my wonderful @indignant-alpaca, delving into the common struggles faced by students across various disciplines. Despite our diverse fields of study, we all encounter similar challenges sooner or later. Drawing from my own experiences, I decided to craft a variation focused on enhancing the learning process, using one of my favorite characters, Bakugo, as a source of inspiration 💣

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

In class

Be actively involved in class discussions and activities. Katsuki would assertively participate, ensuring he grasps concepts firsthand.

Treat each class as a competition to stay engaged. Challenge yourself to excel, just like Bakugo's competitive spirit drives him to be the best hero.

Don't hesitate to ask questions when you're unclear. Katsuki would demand clarity, and you should too! It's a proactive approach to understanding the material.

Observe and analyze the teacher's explanations and demonstrations. Katsuki assesses his opponents' moves; similarly, analyze the "moves" in your lessons for a deeper understanding.

Take dynamic and concise notes. Katsuki strategizes in the heat of battle, and your notes should capture essential information for later review.

Studying

Approach your study sessions with intensity and focus. Katsuki's training is high-intensity, and your studies should match that energy.

Divide your study time into focused blocks for specific subjects. Master each "arc" before moving on to the next, just like Katsuki hones specific skills.

Work on problem-solving exercises regularly. Katsuki tackles various challenges, and you should too. Practical application reinforces theoretical knowledge.

Utilize interactive study methods. Katsuki learns by doing, and hands-on activities or simulations can enhance your understanding of complex topics.

Plan your study sessions strategically, focusing on high-priority subjects during peak concentration times. This approach mirrors Katsuki's tactical approach to hero battles.

Channel your inner hero by immersing yourself completely in the subject matter, just as Katsuki immerses himself in his battles.

Break down complex topics into smaller components for in-depth understanding, similar to how Katsuki analyzes quirks of his opponents to identify their weaknesses.

Learning attitude

Cultivate a hero's mindset. Set ambitious goals and view your studies as a heroic journey toward self-improvement.

Develop resilience in the face of challenges. Katsuki faces setbacks but emerges stronger. Treat academic difficulties as opportunities for growth.

Believe in your capabilities. Katsuki exudes confidence, and a strong belief in your abilities can positively impact your academic performance.

Be flexible in your approach to learning. Katsuki adapts his fighting style, and similarly, adapt your study techniques to different subjects or challenges.

Regularly reflect on your progress. Katsuki analyzes his battles for improvement; evaluate your academic journey to identify areas for growth.

Learning, Bakugo-style, means embracing the fact that doubters will always exist, no matter your achievements. Instead of seeking external validation, channel that energy into mastering your skills and gaining knowledge for your own growth. The focus should be on personal improvement and the satisfaction that comes from overcoming challenges, rather than proving yourself to others.

Periodically review past material to reinforce your knowledge. Katsuki often reflects on his battles to improve his combat strategy. Apply this concept to your studies for a solid foundation.

Test yourself regularly to identify weak points. Katsuki constantly challenges himself in battles to enhance his abilities. Use quizzes to gauge your progress and strengthen areas where you struggle.

Develop mental resilience to overcome setbacks. Katsuki faces defeats but bounces back stronger. Treat failures as stepping stones, learning from them to improve and move forward.