#i refuse to be known for this 💀

[no1ryomafan]

Was asking for suggestions on bluesky since tumblr pretty dead-though if anyone does have any feel free to drop in replies even if this’ll mainly be a word vomit as per usual-but I cannot tell if I don’t look hard enough or if non mecha robot anime aka stuff focusing on cyborgs androids etc is FAR more obscure than your average mecha show that got like one show and maybe a SRW appearance cause even when I searched up stuff I was barely finding anything. I legit thought it be more common given how influential works like Tezuka and Ishionmoris were and how heavy they focused on robotics, but the ones that exist are few, kinda sucks since I wanna watch more robot anime that isn’t mecha.

[grrrlschool]

just saw an article where lita ford said she wished she played with girlschool and kelly johnson… ma’am i hate to break it to you but they never reached out to tour with you for a reason… 💀

[spanktony]

GOT HER OWN. — karina. (part one)

“𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗶𝘁. 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵, 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁.”

in which — y/n is a valorant streamer who loves trolling and chasing a spot on the top 10 valorant clutches list. when katarinabluu, a high-ranked player, takes the #1 spot, y/n throws shade during their stream—only for katarina to clap back online.

pairing ! —streamer!karina x streamer!gn!reader

genre ! — smau w a little bit of written text, enemies to lovers, comedy

warnings ! — kys/kms jokes, swearing, this is very bad 😕

featuring ! — aespa, yunjin (le sserafim), keeho (p1harmony), minji (newjeanz), and more

a/n: this isn’t a long series just a 2 part (maybe) series (part two)

it was a routine you followed every month: react to the top 10 valorant clutches of the month video, hope to see one of your clips make the cut, and play it cool if it didn’t. at this point, it was less about the recognition and more about the banter with your chat.

you weren’t the most well known valorant pro out there—your channel had a decent amount of subscribers, but it was nowhere near the top 100. you had a pretty loyal following that you had worked hard to build since your first few days on youtube and twitch.

and as the months passed, your fan base was only getting bigger.

today was no exception. you had set a stream up for your regular wednesday afternoon time slot. you were going to try and squeeze in a few rounds with a few friends before you had to get ready for your night classes.

but first, you needed to react to the new list. it had dropped the night before, and your notifications had been buzzing ever since.

your fans loved hyping you up every time these compilations came out, spamming your inbox with messages like “this has to be your month!” or “if you’re not on this list, we riot.” it was all in good fun, but deep down, you couldn’t lie—it’d be nice to finally see your name make the cut.

“alright, chat,” you said as the stream went live, your usual intro music playing softly in the background. “you know the drill. top 10 valorant clutches of the month. place your bets now: am i finally on this one, or are we adding another ‘rigged’ tally to the scoreboard?”

username: no way they missed that icebox play last week right?

username Manifesting y/n at #1 this time!

username if you don’t make it we ride at dawn

username 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

username they’re saving your clip for a ‘top fails’ compilation 😭

you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “hilarious. let’s just get into it, yeah?”

you pulled up the video and hit play. as the countdown began, your commentary started up right away.

clip #10 was decent, a 1v4 clutch with some clean sheriff shots. “not bad,” you admitted, nodding approvingly. “but let’s be real, chat. i’ve done better.”

clip #9 featured an insane operator flick. “okay, now that’s spicy,” you said, impressed. “still waiting for my clip, though.”

by the time it got to the top three, you hadn’t seen your name, but you weren’t surprised. “alright, here’s the moment of truth. if i’m not in the top three, i’m officially calling this list a scam.”

then, the #1 clip began to play. the name on the screen caught your eye immediately: katarinabluu.

your face froze for a second as the clip began—an ace on icebox, clean headshots, and a flick with an operator that sealed the round. it was an undeniably impressive play, but your competitive streak refused to give in.

“that’s it?” you said, pausing the video. you shrugged. “but let’s be real—if that’s #1, this list is definitely rigged.”

username who the hell is that

username y/n who???

username: HELLO??? KARINA’S GONNA SEE THIS

username not you dragging her when she’s literally better than you ☠️

username 😭😭

you leaned back in your chair, smirking at the chat’s chaos as the messages flew by faster than you could read.

“what? i’m just saying!” you said, raising your hands in mock defense. “she’s good, but if that’s the best clutch of the month, then clearly the editors need to broaden their horizons. my icebox clip was cleaner.”

the chat exploded even more.

username oh you’re done for

username: why are you here starting beef w karina i can’tttttt

username: Plz she’s gonna roast you so bad

username 100% she’s gonna watch this later and go feral

username you done fucked up 💀

you laughed at their reactions, brushing it off as just another day of trolling with your viewers.

a/n: lolll idk how i feel about this 😔

part two

[tonysbed]

Die for you (5) | OP81

Oscar Piastri x singer!reader

summary: It wasn’t oscar’s plan to be the one to fix your reputation and spice up his, yet here he is and..have your eyes always looked so..radiant and beautiful?

warnings:

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Oscar Piastri was spotted this Thursday with Pop star Yn Yln. The pair was spotted looking all cosy in a restaurant and left together. What do we think of this new possible wag?👀

user she’s such a red flag honestly

user oscars outfit??😍

user he looks so bored 💀

user that’s his normal face wydm

user so cuteee

user this confirmation that they’re together, right?

user they both live in monaco, she has shows in melbourne this weekend so no shook she’s here and they could be friends

user me on my highest delusion

user he’s gonna get fucked over so bad by her

user how would you know??

user have you seen her reputation?💀

-

The restaurant is dimly lit, the kind of upscale but cozy place that exudes exclusivity. The hum of conversation blends with soft music, and the faint scent of something rich and buttery lingers in the air.

You and Oscar are seated near the window—strategically, of course. A perfect spot for accidental public sightings. Close enough to be noticed, far enough to not look like you’re trying to be noticed.

You swirl your wine glass lazily, glancing across the table. “So, are we supposed to look deeply in love, or just casually date-night cute?”

Oscar, already picking at the breadbasket, shrugs. “Somewhere in between. We need to sell it, but I refuse to be that couple.”

You smirk. “Awww, you don’t want to stare into my eyes like I’m your whole world?”

He levels you with a flat look. “I’d rather retire early.”

You laugh, resting your chin in your hand. “Fine. So, a little effortless chemistry, a few well-timed smiles, and maybe one of those ‘we’re in our own little world’ moments?”

Oscar exhales like this conversation is slowly draining his will to live. “You put way too much thought into this.”

You grin. “You should be grateful. This is what’s keeping people interested.”

He rips off a piece of bread, eyeing you. “And here I thought they were just here for my racing skills.”

“Nah. People love a little mystery. And let’s be real—you’re not exactly known for giving the media much to work with.”

Oscar tilts his head slightly, considering that. “So what, I’m using you for entertainment value?”

You smirk, leaning in slightly. “And I’m using you for headlines. Mutual benefits, Piastri.”

He shakes his head with a small smile. “Glad we cleared that up.”

Just then, a flicker of movement catches your eye from across the restaurant. A couple of people at another table, stealing glances your way. And, just like clockwork, someone casually lifts their phone, not so subtly taking a photo.

Oscar follows your gaze, then sighs, reaching for his drink. “Here we go.”

You smirk. “Showtime.”

You lean in slightly, just enough to make it look intimate, laughing softly at something he definitely didn’t say. Oscar catches on quickly—he doesn’t move away, just holds your gaze a second longer than usual, letting a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

Just enough to give them something.

You pick up your wine again, taking a slow sip. “Think that was convincing?”

Oscar exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You flash him a grin. “And yet, here we are.”

-

yn

liked by oscarpiastri, zendaya, mclaren and 2m others

yn melbourne n1 you were amazing! Think you can beat them, n2?

user OSCAR WAS THERE

user mother is mothering

zendaya 😍

sabrinacarpenter marry me

yn yes 💍

sabrinacarpenter 🥹🤭🤭

user did anyone take pictures of oscar?

user @/f1gossip posted some

user thanksss

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Oscar Piastri at Yn Yln concert in Melbourne last night!! The last conformation we need is her showing up in the paddock on sunday 👀

user omggg

user no my husband 😞✋

user they could be friends, come on

user may this love find me

-

yn added to their story

-

Sunday morning in Melbourne is bright and buzzing with anticipation. The energy in the air is different—more intense, more electric. You can hear the distant sounds of the city waking up outside the hotel window as you rummage through your suitcase, trying to decide what to wear.

Oscar is sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed in his McLaren polo, scrolling through his phone like he has all the time in the world. You, on the other hand, are flipping between outfit options, holding up different combinations in front of the mirror.

“Is this too much?” you ask, holding up an orange top.

Oscar glances up, barely sparing it a second before going back to his phone. “Looks fine.”

You frown. “‘Fine’ isn’t helpful, Piastri. I need to find the balance between ‘supportive girlfriend’ and ‘effortlessly cool.’”

He exhales, finally setting his phone down. “You could show up in a trash bag, and people would still think it’s some sort of high-fashion statement.”

You grin. “So you do think I’m fashionable.”

Oscar groans. “I’m not answering that.”

You toss a hoodie at him, shaking your head. “Hopeless.”

As you go back to sorting through your options, Oscar leans back on his elbows. “So, do I get a review of my concert appearance on Friday, or are we pretending that didn’t happen?”

You smirk, glancing at him through the mirror. “Oh, you want a review?”

“Not particularly, but I feel like I’m getting one either way.”

You turn around, arms crossed. “You actually showed up. I’ll admit, I had my doubts.”

Oscar tilts his head. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”

He shrugs. “Well, I did. And you weren’t terrible, so that’s a plus.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “‘Not terrible’? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Oscar smirks. “Fine. It was good. You were good. The fans screaming when they saw me? Less good.”

You laugh. “That was honestly the highlight of my night.And the plan, not to mention ”

“Of course it was and I know.“

You shake your head, finally settling on a McLaren jacket over a casual outfit. “Well, thanks for coming, anyway. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

Oscar stands, rolling his shoulders. “Right. And all you have to do is sit in a VIP section, look vaguely interested, and not start any drama.”

You smirk. “Can’t make any promises on that last one.”

He sighs. “Figured.”

You grab your phone, glancing at the time. “We should head down soon. Ready?”

Oscar gives you a once-over, then nods. “Yeah. Just—try not to be too distracting in the garage.”

You grin, tossing your hair over your shoulder dramatically. “No promises.”

As you both head for the door, you nudge him lightly. “Just don’t crash trying to impress me.”

Oscar scoffs, shaking his head. “Trust me, that is not going to be the problem.”

-

nothing to add to this part, just that I need an oscar home win 🧚 (I forgot, we move in silence) JACK HOME WIN

[mambodork]

Divorce AU Grian strikes me as someone who could clean up really well, but simply refuses too. Or maybe only does so in dragon form.

Like I imagine him meticulously grooming in his dragon form, sharpening his claws or making sure his beak is nice and shiny.

And then boom

Human(ish) form Grian appears. His hair is a mess, his clothes are close to falling apart and there are stains he can't get out. Not to mention that grumpy demeanor, slouching and frowning.

Scar really enjoys dressing up though. Has there ever been a time where Scar managed to convince him to wear something nice or let him do his hair?

LMAOOOO i like this a lot 😭😭 #canon you can only really take care of one form at a time.. and the grumpy old man demeanor is so so real btw. The amount of time i've written about him cracking his joints and getting back pains in the fic... it's actually so embarassing...

Bit of a #FunFact : In their past, before the breakup era, Grian has long hair precisely because Scar likes to brush and play with it :3 he decided to cut it off when he lived alone cause he find it bothersome & had nobody else to take care of it for him.

Grian's current (and only) outfit is all given by Scar. He gave him whatever clothes he could find that was wearable, and G kinda imprinted on it and refused to let go. So now Scar is just silently beating himself up for it cuz if he had known back then that Grian would be so weirdly possessive over clothing, he would've chosen something much more pleasant looking instead of whatever mess he has going on rn 💀

[aayakashii]

Gaahh I'm so sorry this took so long despite it being only 2k words 😣 I am not satisfied with it at all, but I need to publish otherwise I'll never do it 💀 I do hope it's not that bad though.

Anyway, here it is @rottenzombrainz 🫶 I am sorry it took me so long!

Warning: Yandere!Jiro has absolutely no sense of personal space and boundaries

rubies and black holes

You were having pleasant dreams for a change. It wasn't anything specific – just a mess of bright colors and a fluttering feeling of comfort that made your sleep peaceful for once.

It was the kind of sweet nonsense that lulled you into a deeper slumber; not the unnerving one that made your sleep shallow and restless.

The pastel hues floated languidly like jellyfish underwater, and a soothing white noise, like the hum of an old air conditioner, vibrated inside your ears.

Everything was tranquil and you felt like nothing could ever rip that dream apart, at least not that night.

And that was true, until a bleeding black pit forcefully yanked you out of your comfort, as it suddenly made itself known in the midst of all those colors.

You couldn't ignore it, once you were aware of its presence. It was always in your line of sight, no matter how much you tried to evade it. Always lingering, haunting your peripheral vision, as if it followed your every move; yet, when you turned to face it, it just pierced you with its hypnotizing gaze – unmoving.

And what a mistake it was to face it.

You could feel your body react to it, as though you were approaching the tethering line that kept you from danger: your heart picked up its pace and your breathing got shallower.

The hole looked endless and void of life. You couldn't tell if it was made of darkness or if darkness was made of it; it was just an open gash in what was once a tranquil place – a gaping wound you could not tend to. And despite its lifelessness, you felt like it watched you. It tracked your every movement, your breathing, your heart, your eyes.

“You stare at the abyss and the abyss stares back at you”, you remembered someone had said once, only it felt quite literal in your case.

You couldn't escape its stare. It pinned you down, like a deer caught in headlights. You couldn't run, nor stay and your brain finally refused to keep up with the eldritch-esque conflict stirring inside your mind.

With a jolt, you startled awake, breathless and with your heart thumping loud and fast. You were met by the wooden ceiling of your dorm and the cold breeze that blew from your open window.

You were safe. Your breath was shaky when you sighed loudly, hands rubbing your eyes and your face to ground yourself back into reality.

It was only after a few seconds, however, that you noticed a strange weight on your abdomen.

With eyes still closed, you went to place your hand on your stomach, wondering if a cat had made its way to your bedroom (it wouldn't be the first time. Sometimes you'd wake up with a cat curled right beside your feet or your head or on your back. For some reason, the worker cats loved you and a tiny part of you wondered if they just liked the smell of the anomaly in you taking over your blood).

You weren't expecting, however, to feel tousled hair locks on your fingertips.

You slowly looked down, finally acknowledging the pair of piercing red eyes that stared at you, unblinking, while you slept.

You gasped loudly, a scream stuck on your throat, instinctively pushing the man's head away from your body, though he barely budged – his huge frame was too heavy for you to move. Sleep still coated your senses and you could feel your brain working overdrive to process what you were seeing; who was that person who watched you so intently, so silently.

Once your mind finally recognized whatever your eyes saw, however, you sighed in relief, putting a hand over your poor racing heart.

"Jiro!" You half-yelled, exasperated, and he blinked slowly. He had laid down his head on your belly while he knelt beside your bed and you had no idea how long he had been staring at you as you slept. “What are you doing here?! I was sleeping!”

He slowly got up and sat on his heels, but kept his arms firmly draped around your midsection.

“I was watching you sleep.”

You licked your dry lips and scrunched your forehead in confusion.

“I… I can see that. Why?”

Jiro looked to the side, to where his hand touched your belly. You could feel the coldness of his translucent skin seeping through the fabric of your pajamas. The blue veins on his arms formed a map of its own.

“I don't know.” He said, after a few seconds of silence. His glowing red stare fixed upon your face once more, as if searching for something inside your mind.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out of it. You didn't know how to answer.

“I just… had an impulse and followed through with it. I just had to see you.” He muttered, still unblinking.

“You know this is like… very creepy, right?” He finally looked away, avoiding your reprimanding gaze. Deep down he knew he was wrong, but wouldn't admit. “Right?”

Jiro hummed, teeth pulling on the dead skin of his chapped lips. You had to keep yourself from scolding him even more, as small red gashes appeared on his mouth.

“Your breathing is very short and fast.” He began, voice even and monotone as it always was whenever he was talking to his patients. “You seem to be fatigued despite your sleep. These are some of the tell-tale signs of paradoxical breathing. You might be facing some degree of diaphragm dysfunction and we should investigate it.”

You rolled your eyes at the way he purposefully ignored your comment.

“No, Jiro. I'm like this because you scared the hell out of me.”

He met your eyes and, once again, like spellwork, you felt petrified under his gaze; a black hole that sucked you inside an universe of red.

“I can't understand.” he murmured.

“What is it?” You asked, voice softening to match his tone.

His hand swiftly reached towards you as if he was going to grab your face, and you flinched at the sudden movement – your nerves were still frayed at its ends. Jiro dropped his hand back into the mattress before he could touch you.

“I don't understand why I can't get you out of my head. It's aggravating.” He wrinkled his nose almost imperceptibly in a subtle expression of discomfort. “You're constantly in my mind. Day and night. No matter what I do, I end up thinking of you. Wanting to see you. It's disrupting my activities.”

You blinked rapidly, wondering if Jiro had an inkling of the weight of his words – of what he seemed to be implying – or if he was truly clueless and acting blindly, led by his instincts. You didn't know which one seemed more dangerous.

“Jiro, I'm- I'm flattered but–”

“Maybe, subconsciously, I came here to understand.” He interrupted, as if deep in his thoughts. “To observe. To gather empirical evidence.”

He shuffled on his spot and laid his head on your torso. His mop of messy hair tickled your chin as he nuzzled into your chest, inhaling sharply.

“Jiro!” You tried to pry him away from your body to no avail.

He shuddered as he exhaled slowly, as if savoring your scent. He turned his head to look at you.

You couldn't help but swallow thickly and notice every little pore of his face from so up close. His long lashes, the dark circles under his eyes, his chapped, pale lips and the little mole on his chin. You cursed yourself for thinking he still looked beautiful while you were pinned on your bed.

He suddenly chuckled, eyes glinting with mirth.

“You look so scared.” He muttered. His soft, velvety voice vibrated on your ribcage. “Do you think I'm gonna hurt you?”

You had to contain a whimper, clenching your jaw. You were pretty sure he meant no harm to you, but he sure looked plenty intimidating at that moment. It took a staggering amount of faith on him for you to steel yourself and not struggle to run.

“No… no. No, I don't think you'd hurt me.”

He nuzzled into your neck, inhaling once again, getting dangerously close to your face. He gave out a pleased hum.

“I feel like I could do this forever. I wonder why.”

Your breath hitched on your throat.

“You… you really don't know?”

He raised his head, lips brushing against your cheek, and blinked owlishly.

“Do you?”

“... No.”

Again, you weren't sure if you had lied or not. You weren't sure if his own way of loving was crooked, or if he was merely obsessed with the idea of you. Either option left you with a pit in your gut. You weren't sure you wanted an answer any time soon.

“I don't know yet either. Some things are still out of my grasp after my coma.” He shook his head. “But I feel like I can make a breakthrough at any moment.” His hands glided from your hands to your shoulders, and he squeezed the tightened muscles. You shuddered despite yourself.

“I can make a breakthrough… especially if I'm near you.” His hands steadily moved from your shoulder to your neck. Jiro's fingers rested on the fast thump of your carotid pulses. You felt your chest tighten with the knowledge that he could press down on them and have you at his mercy in mere seconds. You tried to focus on the way his lips moved, silently counting the heartbeats.

“120 bpm. That's very high.” He said seriously after a whole minute, shuffling closer.

“You do appear to need my careful vigilance as you seem awfully distressed.” Jiro was fully oblivious to the irony of his words. “Should I just give you a check up more than once per day? Though I do wonder how I could keep an eye on you whenever you went on missions.”

His face was uncomfortably close and his eyes were locked into your parted lips. You panted, anxiety coursing through your veins and making it hard to breathe.

His breath smelled like the sterile nothingness of unflavored toothpaste and his eyes still glinted with something you couldn't recognize – probably because you had never been under the throes of obsession as he was.

“Jiro you don't … you don't have to do this. You don't have to keep me under your watch.”

His eyes widened and he tilted his head, as if suddenly inspired by your words. As soon as the flicker of satisfaction lightened his eyes, you wanted to punch yourself.

“That's a great idea, actually; to properly keep you under my watch.”

You blanched.

“It'd be great for research on your curse as well.”

“No, you really don't–”

His hands ended up cupping your cheeks, squeezing your face a bit tighter than it was comfortable, successfully silencing you. You didn't know if it was on purpose or if he was just truly unaware of his strength.

“Thank you very much for your suggestion. It seems to be the correct one. I'll find a way to keep you by my side soon.”

You widened your eyes as he calmly decided on your own future with the finality of someone who knew they could pull it off.

What would that future entail, then? A prison at Mortkranken's underground lab, with only Jiro as your warden? How could you convince him of how nonsensical and inhumane his plan sounded? How would he justify your absence to the Academy? How could he ever think he was the owner of the little freedom you had in that campus?

Jiro laid down his head on his arms, on top of your stomach again, his weight keeping you from breathing properly as he kept his ruby-like eyes still fixed on you. You could only stare, wide-eyed and breath shallow.

“You can go back to sleep.” He announced, flatly, with no intentions of leaving your side, anchored onto your body like a flag claiming a territory.

You looked to the ceiling, trying to evade the sharpness of his red irises, heart still hammering inside your ribcage as you thought of his sudden decision.

It seemed there was no way you'd have another comfortable dream ever again.

[natsaffection]

Hiii, 22 years old, she/her. feel free to write me about EVERYTHING! THIS BLOG IS A SAFEPLACE for all Topics! So if you have questions, need advices or just venting, please reach out! 🦋

(English is not my first language, so please point out any mistakes, thank you.) 🩵🇩🇪

Lovely Anons: 🐅,🗿,💋,⭐️,🧸,🌷,🍷,🏎️,🪿,🧈, 🥋,🪩,💀,🛸,🐦‍⬛,🥀,🍿,🫥,🐆,🐎,✨,🤍,🪼,🔮,🍎,🐥,🍓,🕷️,🫘,🐈‍⬛,🦖,👾,🍄,☁️,🦇,🌲,💧,🍡,🌸,🦥,🍸,💪,⏳,🦦,🍹,🎧,👑,🩵,🦭,🧿,🐠, 🩰,🚓,🤸🏻‍♀️,🌙, 💗,🪶,��,🦝,⚓️,🐺,🫡,🏀,🦽,🦢,☀️,🚧, 🍒 ,🪖, 🎤,🪻, 🪐, 🌹

M's MASTERLIST:

Do not copy, repost, translate or claim my work as your own! Reblogs are appreciated though. <3

Most of the work is 18+ DNI, so if you’re a minor, do not interact with it!

Series:

[Natasha]: My sweet Baby. (NSFW)

• You took your long awaited four-day vacation, for which you had saved your money for two years. That you had almost no money would be an understatement. You just manage to get through your college with two part-time jobs (for which you get far too little money).So what happens when you meet the most successful CEO in the world in an unknowingly overpriced café?

[Natasha] : Mafias Mistress (NSFW)

• Your life takes a drastic turn when you accidentally meet Natasha Romanoff, who lives a mysterious and seductive life behind her facade. Despite Natasha's initial resistance, your light and attraction ignite a fiery romance that sets both your worlds on fire. But as your love grows stronger, so does the danger, especially when you discover Natasha's true identity. Surrounded now by wealth and danger, you become the new center of Natasha's universe and your bond is put to the test.

[Natasha]: I hate you! (Angst)

• You were glad you escaped the hell trip. Even if it wasn't entirely your merit. You could finally smell the freedom you could only dream of before. However there was one person that disliked your presence since the moment you stepped foot on the campus. No matter what you do, you always get on her bad side. What happens when you find out the truth about her and she about you? Will her rivalry turn into your jobs or will it become something else?

[Natasha]: My sweet Student. (NSFW)

• You read and you dreamed about it. What if you fall in love with your teacher (who is also twice your age) and you can live your dream? She shows you your deepest sexual ideas and lives them out with you. On the shelf with the books and hello reality.

[Natasha]: Kingdom of secrets (NSFW)

• A story unfolds in the realm of celestria in which the younger Princess Y/n Dawn finds an unexpected connection with Lady Natasha Romanoff, the kingdom's revered and feared first female knight. Natasha, a skilled warrior known for her bravery on the battlefield and icy demeanor, is tasked by the king with protecting his daughter. As Natasha watches the princess grow, a complex and unexpected bond emerges between them that transcends the boundaries of age and status.

[Natasha]: Wait and Hope. (Angst/Fluff)

• You and Natasha retreat to focus on your new life together. You finally want to start a family and decide to adopt children. While Natasha forms a strong bond with them, you struggle to find one. Your resolve is tested when you and Natasha are called back for a critical mission and everything went wrong. Natasha must maintain her composure while balancing the weight of her love for you and the safety of your children, while also feeling the fear of losing the family you both fought so hard for.

[Natasha]: Redline (Angst, NSFW, Fluff)

• You swore you’d never race again after the crash that nearly killed you. For years, you stayed in the shadows, avoiding the world you once ruled. Then Natasha Romanoff came looking for a driver, and she chose you. You fought her. You refused. But Natasha doesn’t take no for an answer. But coming back means facing everything you ran from: the fame, the pressure, the past. And with the world watching, one question remains: Are you still the driver you once were, or will the past catch up before you can prove it?

Bonus1, Bonus2, Bonus 3, Bonus 4 Bonus 5.1 2

[Natasha]: Code Red. (NSFW, Angst, Fluff)

• As a new intern at a prestigious hospital, you never expected to catch the eye of Dr. Natasha Romanoff, brilliant, older, and completely off-limits. But the tension between you grows with every stolen glance and late-night shift.

pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

[Natasha]: Innocence (Fluff/Angst)

• You thought the mission would make you a hero. A young soldier, eager to prove yourself, you were thrown into a world nothing like the ideals you believed in. Instead of honor, you found chaos, rubble, and a silence louder than gunfire. As the lines between right and wrong blurred, a hardened Sargent became your anchor in the storm. But war doesn’t wait for you to find your footing and the battlefield has its own way of leaving scars.

[Natasha]: Not like the Storys

• Everyone says Natasha Romanoff is a heartbreaker, cold, careless, and dangerous. A player who leaves a trail of broken girls behind her and never looks back. But when she catches your eye across a crowded place and starts to unravel everything you thought you knew, you realize the stories might not be the full truth. Because beneath the reputation and the swagger is someone quieter. Softer. Someone who sees you in a way no one else ever has, and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Pt 2, Pt 3

One shots:

SFW

[Natasha] Trust. (Angst/Fluff)

• You dealing with drug addiction post the loss of your girlfriend, Kate. Natasha aids you through withdrawal, relapses, and recovery.

[Natasha] Together. (Fluff)

• Sugar!Mommy Natasha is helping you through exams

[Natasha]: Afraid of loosing you. (Angst/Fluff)

• Natasha is your girlfriend of two years and is always overprotective over you. So what happens when you both get under an attack which priority it is to kill the black widow?

[Natasha] Paramedic. (Angst/Fluff)

• you have a motorcycle Accident and Natasha is a Paramedic

[Natasha] One step at a time. (Angst/Fluff)

• Natasha and the team help you cope with the loss of your leg.

[Natasha] Lines Crossed.(Fluff) Pt 2 (NSFW)

• Natasha and you are Enemies till you get hurt.

[Natasha] Fury and Friction. (Fluff)

• You both deny your feelings to each other and it leads to Anger

[Natasha] Whatever it takes. (Angst/fluff)

• Football!Player Natasha thought youre playing her and wants to brake your Heart first

[Natasha] I see you. (Angst/Fluff)

• You thought the forced marriage would be the end of you. But it turned into something more.

[Natasha] Walking through Fire. (Angst)

• Natasha can't handle your job and eventually regrets ending the Bond you once had.

[Natasha] Trough Darkness. (Angst/Fluff)

• You and Natasha meet a little girl who will need your help later.

[Natasha] Showing everything. (Fluff/Angst)

• Natasha is supposed to get close to you for an undercover mission. But she falls in love.

[Natasha] How she smiles. (Fluff)

• Natasha looses all her flirting skill, when she met a beautiful barista.

[Natasha] The Weight of you, Part 2 (Angst/Fluff)

• Natasha’s worst nightmare came true.

NSFW

[Natasha] Apologize.

• Natasha let you apologize to her employees

[Natasha] Reward. | Pt. 2

• Coach! Natasha x Player!Reader

[Natasha] Happy anniversary.

• Sugar!Mommy Natasha celebrates her anniversary with Sugar!Baby Reader

[Natasha] Oh, Baby.. | Pt. 2

• You break Natasha’s first rule. (NSFW)

[Natasha] Teacher!Nat x Teacher!Reader

• In a school where Prof!Natasha and Prof!Reader teach different languages, they have quite the contrasting reputations. Despite their differences, Natasha and Reader engage in playful flirting at work..

[Natasha] Cure.

• You got infected with the sex pollen and a red haired ..acquaintance offers to help you.

[Natasha] Distraction.

• Smutty hate sex with Boss!natasha and her assistant

[Natasha] Hidden.

• Natasha gets to know the real you.

[Natasha] Lesson.

• Jealous Natasha is teaching you a Lesson

[Natasha] The Van.

• G!P Natasha sits you on her member during a trip

[Heated] Heated. PT2

• It's Hate right?

[Natasha] Interrogation.

• Natasha use a different Method to get informations about you

[Natasha] Morning.

• you wake up a little too needy

[Natasha] I'm not going anywhere.

• Bodyguard!Natasha is falling in love with your stubbornness

[Natasha] Mine to Use. Pt2

• you habe to pay off your depths to Natasha

[Natasha] The Ticket.

• The officer had a good offer to let you trough your ticket

[Natasha] Never say Never.

• Your father's best friend, who is twice your age, has feelings for you

[Natasha] Never letting you go.

• You thought you were too late. But Natasha comes back to you.

[Natasha] Relaxing.

• Natasha ka giving you a Massage ans it leads to more.

[Natasha] Footage.

• Natasha fucks you inside the quinjet while the security cameras are filming.

[Natasha] Healing Touch.

• You are faking your orgasm. Natasha is helping you tobget a real one.

Natasha and Wanda:

[Natasha] Reversed.

• Natasha is dommed for the first time.

[WandaNat] Unholy. (NSFW)

• Wanda is a stripper and Nat took an interest in her

[WandanNat] Something different. (NSFW)

• Natasha and Reader are Dating and have a threesome with their friend Wanda

[WandaNat] Save Heaven. (NSFW)

• Natasha and Wanda are both fucking Reader and their Aftercare

[WandaNat] Bond. (NSFW/Fluff)

• Reader is calling out the Safeword

[WandaNat] Truth and Desire. (NSFW/Fluff)

• You got infected with a truth serum and they use it against you

[WandaNat] Helpless Desire. (NSFW/Fluff)

• Tied to a chair, you have to watch them pleasure themselves

[WandaNat] Comfort. (NSFW)

• They Comfort you after a Horror Movie and got inspired by a scene

[WandaNat] Lights out. (NSFW/Fluff)

• You calling your safeword

[WandaNat] The Widow and the Witch. (NSFW)

• The two mafia bosses want to find out who can make you feel better

[WandaNat] At your Pace. (NSFW/Fluff)

• The two women take your virginity and your father comes in

[theyluvlyss]

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐥...

batman's cape (and any of the other batfam member's capes) are heated/can be microwaved :D.

...yeah, probably not the most original thought. surely someone has come up with this before, and hey, maybe it's even canon - but that doesn't really take away any of the ideas I have, so on we go anyways lmao.

I imagine that you, y/n, reader (lol idk-) is often found all wrapped up in bruce's cape (ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S FRESH OUT OF THE WASH) and he'll be TEARING the manor apart looking for that shit because why would it be anywhere else except in the bat-cave, in his bat-suit vault, right there clipped onto the specific bat-suit he's choosing to wear for whatever mission he's finna go on, just to eventually find you on a couch somewhere above the bat-cave all rolled up like a worm in it with the glow of your phone emitting from underneath the fabric and your little giggles muffled by it because you're probably laughing at memes or something idk.

bruce is definitely the type to think it's silly and lowkey can't even blame you because it do be cold in the mansion, but he also refuses to drop the "I'm so hardcore and a brute and stone cold" act so he's yanking that shit offa' you and you're just BEWILDERED, suddenly exposed to the light and cold like, "😮⁉️🫨⁉️" and before you can even process wtf happened, bruce is already whisking around the corner, gone and out of sight💀.

dick would also think it's silly, but lowkey actually be annoyed, though, and he'd make that KNOWN. like, sure, he'd initially be VERY stressed when he can't find the cape (even though it's not thay big of a deal but for some reason, he just doesn't feel "complete" without it😭) but then he'd see this huge lump all wrapped up in it on a bed in one of the many rooms or something. at first, he'd think it's one of the handful of pets owned and living in the wayne estate, just to peel back the fabric and see YOU.

"...Hi😃..."

"...🙂Why are- Nevermind. You do know that I need this, right?"

"I mean,,, you don't need it, you just-"

*YANK!!*

"NO, WAIT, IT'S COLD!!"

"THEN GET A BLANKET!!"

I'm sorry, but I feel like dick don't play 'bout his cape, and you're just either gonna have to find different ways to sneak it or just leave it tf alone😭✋🏽. but when it's not currently in dire need by him, he'll happily return it to you and smile when you squeal and wrap yourself back up in and under it while it warms up.

BARBARA GETS IT FR. SHE GETS ✨️🩷YOU🩷✨️. but also, she is attached to it in the way dick is, so don't be surprised if and when she needs it, she's taking it from you with zero mercy and under the excuse of, "I'm on duty tonight, I'm not showing up out of uniform lol." and you're just left there like "☹️...". but outside of those times, the both of you can be found very happily and contently under her cape as you watch horror movies or something and rambling about who knows what, a common interest lol.

and I'm pretty sure in some strains/universes or whatever of dc, she ends up becoming oracle because she's paralyzed or some shit, right?? I could totally be wrong, but if I'm not, I feel like in that case, she just GIVES it to you. she makes it a huge deal, too, she acts like she's passing along the magical ashes of a dead ancestor that grants you infinite knowledge and protection or some shit and has a whole speech prepared, just for her to hand you this neatly folded up cloth and you're just like, "...You're giving me your cape😀??" and she's like, "Ya🙂♡." and you can't even be mad because ...

IT'S A HEATED CAPE like idk what else you could want from her like plz✋🏽.

(*casually skips over Tim bc idk enough about him and if I mischaracterized him I'd have to delete this account and then me off of the face of this earth bc I refuse to be that bitch who doesn't know her shit😃*)

jason will see you with his cape, and whether you're awake or asleep, he'll loom over you menacingly until you sense his presence, and then not even give you the chance to give excuses before he's like, "I'm on watch tonight."

you don't dare protest lmao. and he isn't giving it back to you later on. it's one of those things that if you really want it, you gotta go get it. and then expect you won't have it for very long, so whatever you plan on doing with it, you better make the most of it😭✋🏽. that's literally all I can say for him lmao.

DAMIAN (my fave) (^3^)/. I feel like he'd make it seem like SUCH an inconvenience for himself even though he doesn't actually care about the cape itself and if anything, finds it very sweet and endearing that you literally use it as a blanket because "it gets so warm" and "it smells like you" and "it's here when you're gone and I miss you". but, much like his father, he just HAS to keep up the, "I'm so stone cold and no nonsense and eternally vexed" facade, so if you're awake and you have it, he'll just hold out his hand expectingly and - like jason - you don't dare argue because you're just gonna lose🥲.

but if he finds the cape and you're asleep with/under it, he'll actually let you keep it. like, he'll just leave it and either go about his superhero duties without the cape entirely, or he'll just use another one from a different suit. sure, it might possess different capabilities (no pun intended), or he might feel a little... off... without a cape, but he'd rather that than interrupt your comfortable state.

and you'll be so bent up about it when he returns, and you're like, "WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST TAKE IT😭💔?!" and he's like, "you were obviously very comfortable, I didn't want to disturb you😐..........🫶🏼."

so um.... yeah, I honeslty dk where all of that came from, but do with this info what you will.

byeeee /ᐠ^ω^マ~ !!

[sansaorgana]

�� CHRYSALIS (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Vala/half-Elf!Reader (Morgoth's Daughter)

SUMMARY — Mairon is scheming to take over the armies of Morgoth. With his old master's daughter by his side he considers his claims to be legitimised, although he has to admit that her mood swings scare him sometimes. Well, one thing is certain – his wife keeps him on his toes. And their enemies are many, even amongst their own Lieutenants.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It's been some time since part one but I needed a short break and I'm not going to lie but I have been distracted... Those of you who follow me, know already that I have a massive crush on Jack Lowden now... 🤣 It is honestly funny to me because I've known about this guy for years (he was even in one of my favourite TV shows ever aka War & Peace) but it was this one scene of the loser Sauron that pushed me into having a crush??? Seriously?! Anyway, yeah... I've been watching movies with him and at the moment I am in the middle of Slow Horses. Just saying because I have a feeling it is going to end up with a fanfic... 💀 Big shoutout and thanks to @olchr-1 because their comments under my fics about Mairon and Morgoth always inspire me! 💚

WARNINGS — toxic relationship (they're mutually toxic to each other), mentions of Morgoth's abuse towards Sauron, Reader is kinda unhinged (she is Morgoth's daughter, ok? what did you expect?), murder (as in – she murders [an Orc] AND she gets murdered), she's some sort of a ghost in the end (idk if it's a trigger but I'm writing it down in case it is...)

WORD COUNT — 6,140

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

CHRYSALIS (II)

“I do. I can see inside your mind.”

Mairon felt a shiver travelling down his spine at those words. (Y/N) had a sweet smile on her face but it still felt somehow sinister and embarrassing after realising she could have felt all his scheming regarding her.

“Do not be scared!” She whined and giggled as she brushed his ginger hair to put it behind his pointy ear. “I like you the way you are.”

Mairon cracked a smile at her and put his hands on her waist to pull her closer and join their lips together. The kiss started softly but it quickly turned into a heated one. (Y/N) moaned into his mouth and he groaned, pushing aside all the things on the table behind her to pick her up and sit her up on top of it.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and he could hear her heartbeat fastening as his shaky hands travelled to her back where he started to tug onto the lacing of her gown.

But at that, (Y/N) flinched and Mairon broke the kiss, taking a step back and looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She refused to meet his gaze and looked over his shoulder at the still unfinished item behind him.

“I think you still have work to finish, my husband,” she pointed out sweetly and how could he ever be angry at her when she addressed him so beautifully?

Mairon nodded at her and leaned in to steal one more kiss from her but this time it was only a peck on the lips.

He walked away from her to go back to reforging her father’s crown to fit him and she took off her leather apron and folded it neatly before putting it on the desk and leaving the forge without a word.

Mairon wondered quietly what was the reason for her sudden shyness when it came to being physical. How much had she witnessed about her parents’ relationship? And what had it been like?

Or perhaps (Y/N) was simply shy because she had been sheltered for her whole life.

Either way, she had agreed to share her life with him and that was enough for him. To have her close, to show her off as his – Melkor’s daughter, the heiress of darkness. She had chosen him – Mairon – to be her husband. There was no better legitimation for his coronation than this.

He finished his work and the sun was slowly setting in the sky although it was barely visible in their land of snow and cold either way. Mairon took off his apron and fixed his hair before taking the newly reforged crown and taking it to his chambers because he would never leave it unsupervised. Proud of his creation, he walked past (Y/N)’s chambers but he did not bother to check on her. She clearly needed her space now and he decided to give it to her.

After entering his chambers, though, Mairon froze at the sight of (Y/N) laying in his bed and smiling at him gently. She was wearing nothing but a beautiful nightgown made out of a sheer fabric that left very little to his imagination. Mairon swallowed a lump in his throat at the sight.

“I… I have finished,” he told her and placed the crown on top of a dresser, scared of her opinion as he usually was when it came to his craft.

“I can see. It is beautiful, you are very talented with your hands, my Sauron,” she whispered, surprisingly sweet, and Mairon smiled nervously at the praise before turning around to face her.

“Where did you get a nightgown like this?” He asked. After all, all her clothes had been gifts from him and he would never dare to give her such a thing before.

“So… You like it?” She giggled and Mairon’s heart skipped a beat. She had no idea how much he did. Or maybe she did – after all, she could get inside his head. “I know you do, my husband,” she sighed, “but I would like you to say it.”

“I… I do,” Mairon nodded and cleared his throat before sitting on the edge of his bed and carefully reaching his hand out to caress her cheek. “I like it. Very much,” he assured her. 

Oh, how the tables turned. Who was shy now?

When Mairon’s hand lowered and briefly touched (Y/N)’s nightgown, it suddenly disappeared completely, dissolved into air and there she was, naked for him. He looked into her eyes and she chuckled.

“So, it worked,” she whispered, proud of herself. “I learnt from you how to do it,” she confessed and sat up to cling to him and join their lips together in a kiss but this time it was him who was mostly sitting there, petrified to witness her being like that. “I’m sorry, am I doing something wrong?” (Y/N) furrowed her brow and moved away a little, shyly, visibly feeling embarrassed of herself.

And when she was like this, he felt way more confident. Mairon straightened his back and shook his head gently.

“No, my love, not at all. It’s just that I…” He took a deep breath in.

“That you’re a Maia, you were born to serve and not to experience such carnal desires,” she nodded and he closed his mouth. “And yet you do and you are confused but I know the answer.”

“You do?” Mairon inquired.

“I need you,” she breathed out and once more she moved closer to him to kiss the corner of his mouth as her hands caressed his neck with her fingertips. “And you love me. You serve me, Sauron. Therefore, when I need you, your flesh answers to my calling.”

And now it was him flinching at her words and she moved back once more, looking at him with confusion written all over her terrifyingly beautiful features.

“I’m sorry, I…” He fixed his hair with trembling hands as he looked away.

How could he tell her that when she was like this she reminded him of her father and it was not in the way he wanted to remember him? How could he tell her that it nearly scared him and it surely was not helping his desire? 

Melkor had reforged him the same way Mairon reforged his crown – his old self had been melted and twisted in the most wicked ways. But admitting it to her now would be humiliating.

When she was a shy, innocent maiden – he felt confident enough to give in to his desires and to devour her. But when she was showing confidence and was becoming needy herself – greedy for him and his service like his master once had been… He was simply shutting down.

“I would never hurt you, Sauron,” she whispered and he turned his head around to look at her, a little frustrated with the fact that she had been inside his head again – especially at a moment like that. “I would never hurt you first, that is,” she added. “And you have no reason to be embarrassed in front of me. I am your wife and your Queen,” she added.

“I want to be worthy of you but I do not think I ever will be…” He confessed, finally voicing out the fear he had been having for centuries now – from the moment he had seen her for the first time.

“Oh, but my sweet Sauron, do you not know…?” (Y/N) chuckled lovingly and moved closer to him once more but very slowly and carefully this time. She cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with her thumbs before leaning in to rub her nose with his. “I know you will never be and I still like you,” she smiled, probably thinking her words cheered him up but they only broke his heart.

Because what was her love then? Did she love him because he was a good pet? The most loyal servant? Was her love as wicked as her father’s?

“I am my mother’s daughter, too,” she reminded him and kissed his forehead. “I can be sweet and gentle with you, kiss every part of your flesh, every part my father hurt and twisted… Let me heal it,” she breathed out.

He would certainly let her try.

The fortress was the most quiet during the day because the Orcs mostly slept at that time. Mairon and (Y/N) laid in his bed for hours now, facing each other with their limbs tangled and noses brushing as they exchanged sweet kisses and her fingers caressed his hair.

“You are the most extraordinary creature I have ever laid my eyes on,” he breathed out.

“I know,” she smirked. “When will we leave here? I want to see the world,” her eyes sparkled.

“Do you really want to see it or perhaps you can’t wait for the world to fall on its knees at the sight of you?” Mairon wondered teasingly and she chuckled.

“I am aware the realms you will take me to are far from perfect but I will shape them to fit my will and vision,” she said. “And for that, they will build me altars.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you will certainly make sure they do,” she smirked sweetly but her eyes filled with mischief.

Mairon moved his head up slightly to kiss her on the mouth instead of making a promise with his words. Then, he laid down on the pillow and sighed at the sight of the reforged crown of Morgoth on top of his dresser.

“I will forge you a crown, too. I have an idea for its design already,” he promised. “And then, we will coronate ourselves and marshal our legions out of here.”

“I am shutting myself out of your mind then,” (Y/N) giggled. “I want the design to be a surprise,” she explained and kissed his cheek.

He couldn’t help the feeling that he indeed was her pet but perhaps she would be a much kinder owner than her father had been.

Tasarë woke up and leaned on the barren, dry tree as she sighed at the sight of the huge fortress in the horizon. They would arrive there in the afternoon on that day but she had not seen it last night due to the darkness. Now, in the hazy morning she was able to see what was awaiting her – the dreadful place and even more dreadful master within its walls. 

“Why me?” She asked Mairon while he was watching her with a mix of pity and relief that his task would be done soon.

“He saw you in my memories,” he confessed. She deserved to know the truth now, at the very end of their road together.

“You were that huge werewolf watching me in the forest,” Tasarë chuckled and shook her head. “I sensed your eyes on me.”

“And that was your demise. You know what they say – curiosity killed the cat,” Mairon crossed his arms and stood by her side, looking at the fortress ahead of them with pride.

“Why were you staring at me?” Tasarë inquired and Mairon shrugged his arms. He truly did not know.

“Something drew me in. Perhaps it was your fate,” he explained cruelly.

Cruelly, because what could this young and innocent maiden possibly have done to deserve such punishment?

“Please,” she took off her humble ring with a ruby stone on it, “take it,” she offered it to him as her eyes filled with tears.

“What is the meaning behind this gesture?” Mairon raised his eyebrows, a little mockingly staring at the ring in her trembling hand.

“I want you to keep it, a memory of me,” she explained. “A memory of who I am now, before your master bends me to his will,” she added and Mairon swallowed thickly at her words. “Please,” she begged and he finally took the ring from her hand and caressed it with his fingers.

“Why are you giving this to me? It was me who brought this down upon you and it was me delivering you to him,” Mairon asked, confused.

“Who am I supposed to give it to?” She asked and laughed through the tears as she looked around. No one else was there. Then, her face became serious again. “I can still feel the light of Valinor deep within you,” she whispered, her voice nearly inaudible and a shiver went down his spine at her words. “You are a Maia. An emissary of the Valar.”

“I serve only one of them,” he explained.

“Whatever. You just do what you were made for – you serve,” she nodded and turned her head around, leaving his head a mess.

Her words were an explanation why she couldn’t hate him completely. But they also were an insulting reminder that he was nothing compared to his master – he was replaceable and meaningless.

“We should go,” he muttered and hid the ring inside one of his pockets.

Mairon played with Tasarë’s ring between his fingers for one last time before breaking it apart in his forge to extract the red ruby stone and put it in (Y/N)’s crown. Made of her father’s iron and decorated with her mother’s stone, it was pretty humble and smaller than Mairon’s but he made sure it looked as intimidating as his own.

He did not mean to insult his wife with its design – quite the contrary. Her power was of the raw kind and she did not need any further decorations. Unlike him, humbly Maia who was constantly trying to hide the fact he still felt like a nobody. And he knew he would not have to explain it to her because she would know – she could read his mind, after all.

When the crown was forged, he took it carefully into his hands and carried it back to the chambers he was sharing now with her. (Y/N) was standing by the window and staring outside, sighing at the only sight she had ever known – endless snow and cold.

“When will we leave here, Sauron?” She asked with a whine.

“Soon, my darling. Very soon. Look what I have for you,” she smiled gently and could feel his cheeks burning.

This, so far, was the most significant gift he had ever given her. Perhaps even while proposing to her he had not been so nervous.

She turned around and he held his breath, waiting for her opinion and he knew that she was a cruel judge of his presents and craft.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and she froze for a moment before approaching him to take a better look.

“It surely holds lots of power,” she nodded as her fingertips caressed the ruby of the crown. She smiled to herself, sensing her mother as she looked at her husband’s face, finding his eyes. She searched his mind to look for the explanation and then she nodded at him. “Did you love my mother?” She asked, suddenly.

Mairon’s heart skipped a beat.

“She was not mine to love,” he only answered.

“And I am?” (Y/N)’s eyes sparkled cruelly. She could have promised him hundreds of times she would never hurt him but sometimes her father’s nature would overtake her in those little moments, keeping him on his toes. He did not believe her promises at all.

In fact, he was quite scared of his own wife. But that was the price he had to pay for binding himself to such a powerful creature just to be able to bask in her light and to use her power to increase his own influence.

“I understand that you do not like the crown,” he admitted his defeat, looking down.

“On the contrary. It is splendid. Your finest work so far, husband,” she explained and took the item gently from his hands as he laid his eyes on her once more – his needy, yearning gaze, desperate for her praise. “It is simple and humble and yet so powerful, detailed and exquisite. It takes real talent of the greatest craftsman to forge such a beauty,” she admitted and put it onto her head before turning around to look at herself in the mirror. She was smiling and Mairon took a deep breath out of relief.

“I shall inform Adar to gather his armies for our coronation,” Mairon bowed his head slightly.

“Do we need an official coronation? In front of these… creatures?” (Y/N) winced. “We can do whatever we want, can we not?”

“Yes, of course we can,” Mairon cleared his throat. What he really meant was that she could do whatever she wanted. But even that was not entirely true because her lack of experience would soon overshadow her natural inheritance. “It will just send a message to all the right people and look more significant in their eyes if we go through with the whole ceremony.”

“We did not have any ceremony for our wedding,” she pointed out. “You truly show your priorities now, dear husband.”

“Marriage is a sacred and intimate union, I do not care for the audience when it comes to it. My love and devotion are only for you to see,” he answered.

“I understand,” she nodded and turned her head around to look directly into his eyes instead of reading his face from the mirror’s reflection. “But on the next day after our coronation we are leaving this place. And we are never coming back here.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Mairon nodded.

“In fact, I have a perfect usage for the North,” she shrugged her arms and looked back into the mirror to adjust the crown on her head and admire herself.

“And that is…?” Mairon furrowed his brows, a little scared of her answer.

“It will be a perfect prison for our enemies, it is going to be where we will send those who refuse to follow us,” she smiled.

“Why would we not simply kill them?” Mairon wondered out loud. That seemed like a waste of resources.

“And where is the fun in that?” She huffed, reminding him of her father once more.

And then, she reminded him of Melkor even more because she added the line his old master had often been repeating:

“You are too stiff. One of the best things about holding power is that we set the rules and we can make them as enjoyable as we wish.”

They completed each other. His robes were red and heavily decorated with golden elements and details such as chains and embroidered words in black speech. Her robes were the same, only golden with red thread and red decorations. Together they presented themselves very regal but it was very clear which one of them held more power even though she was standing behind him with her hands clasped behind her back.

(Y/N) could feel Adar’s eyes on her, eyeing her up and down constantly but as much as she tried to get inside his mind, he was pushing her away. It was nearly embarrassing that she could not get through but there were things her husband did not know of – for example that her power was not as vast as he thought. 

With proper training, perhaps one day she could live up to the image he had of her inside his mind but the real reason why she could search through him so easily was because she shared a special bond with Mairon. Her father had left the door open within his servant’s broken and twisted mind and it was easy for her to sneak in now, especially when he was not really fighting her abilities back – trained like a good dog by Melkor to obey such infiltrating requests and just allow it to happen.

Adar was shaped by Melkor, too, but he was different. He held no love in his heart for his former master. And… simply – nearly embarrassingly simply – (Y/N) did not love him.

But she loved Mairon and he loved her. That was making the whole deal of reading his mind much easier.

She could only guess what Adar was thinking but she could sense some odd mix of pity and resentment upon his face whenever he looked at her. 

When the right time came, he nodded at her and she took a step ahead to touch her husband’s arm and squeeze it. He turned his head to glance at her with a soft smile.

“We can start now,” she whispered and he nodded.

“Are you sure you do not want to do this with me?” He asked.

“No, better not… I am not yet prepared to give speeches,” she took a few steps back again to hide a little in the shadows, as if it was possible while wearing such robes.

Mairon licked his lips and took a deep breath in before addressing the filthy creatures staring at him with widened eyes, curiously waiting for his words.

He nearly felt embarrassed that they were the army he was offering to his wife. She deserved real, powerful battalions. And she would have them very soon once they’d conquer more lands.

“Always, after a defeat… the shadow takes another shape and grows again,” he began, watching two Orcs carrying two crowns on black, velvet cushions. Once more, he winced a little at the realisation how humiliating it had to be for his wife to have her crown being carried to her by such a filthy creature. “Morgoth is gone,” he continued, “leaving us alone and disgraced. But today, a new age begins,” he added and fidgeted with his fingers, nervously. “Under me and my wife. Your new masters. Sauron and Lady (Y/N),” he introduced the woman the Orcs were the most curious about as he reached out his arm and she sighed, taking it and walking up to him to show herself although she had just asked him not to put her on display.

“What they say is true. My wife is a daughter of Morgoth,” Mairon announced, proudly and with a big grin on his face.

“And my husband – his most faithful and powerful Lieutenant,” (Y/N) announced, trying to legitimise his claims in the eyes of their army.

Perhaps she deserved it all more than him but the truth was that without his support she would not go far. He was far more experienced than her and he had been taking part in real battles for her father. 

“And with a new age, we bring you a new vision. A path to unconditional conquest,” Mairon promised, addressing the Orcs but squeezing his wife’s hand and she squeezed his back, sensing his nervousness. “For we seek a new kind of power,” he let go of her hand and raised his own as he spoke as if he was giving them all a lesson. (Y/N) clasped her hands on her abdomen, nearly humbly, but she remained right by his side this time without retreating to the shadows. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world. One we shall use to enslave the peoples of Middle-earth to our very will,” Mairon explained.

The Orcs looked at each other and hummed to themselves, quite satisfied with such a promise. (Y/N) cracked a smile at her husband and he smiled back but his face went very serious again.

“Many Orcs will die,” he added and the atmosphere inside the room shifted immediately as the Orcs changed their humming into growling.

“But out of the chaos, we will forge a new and perfect order. No longer will we be hunted as the demons who broke Middle-earth, but rather worshipped as the saviours who finally healed it,” Mairon tried to show some excitement while explaining his plan to the Orcs, hoping they would share his enthusiasm. After all, they were not very intelligent beings. “By bringing its peoples together, to rule them all as one!” He raised his hands but the Orcs were not calmed down at all.

Malicious whispers in Black Speech echoed through the room – “Sauron lies”.

(Y/N) moved uncomfortably and glanced at her husband but he was too embarrassed to lay his eyes upon her as well. He was slowly starting to feel humiliated and to be humbled in front of her was nearly as dreadful as death. He was desperate to prove his worth to her, to make her see that he was truly a worthy successor of her father. But whatever he was proving now was the fact he was nothing but still his pathetic servant. A shadow of Melkor.

“Doubt me at your peril,” he continued but his voice slightly trembled out of nervousness and he clasped his hands in the same manner as his wife had clasped hers. However, he managed to lower his voice once more and make it sound dark again. “You have nowhere else to turn. The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you,” he pointed out. “Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust,” he added with a hint of satisfaction and contempt.

The Orcs’ growling did not stop. In fact it had gotten worse.

“A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be haunted and slaughtered,” Mairon ignored their unhappy reaction as he went on.

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) spotted one of the Orcs standing nearby – chosen to be one of their personal guards – shifting slightly and she spotted a dagger in his hands.

“Watch out!” She gasped at her husband and took a step back, watching him turn around quite elegantly and slitting the Orc’s throat swiftly in self-defence.

The audience went completely quiet and (Y/N) blinked a few times at the sight. She had never witnessed her husband like that and if he cared so much about proving his worth – perhaps at this very moment he just had.

The Orc fell down to his knees, choking on his own blood. (Y/N) approached Mairon, feeling Adar’s intense gaze on her back. Her husband pulled the Orc even closer to himself and watched the life leaving his victim with fascination and resentment. (Y/N) tilted her head and watched, too.

And after a while, she reached for her own dagger and finished the assassin off with a few systematic and rough thrusts. After the last one, the Orc’s body fell down lifeless and bleeding. (Y/N) looked up into her husband’s eyes. She could sense he was surprised and impressed but he chose not to show it.

Mairon turned around to run his hands through his ginger hair that had gotten ruffled in the fight. He wanted to always present himself neatly in front of his followers, therefore he smoothed them in a nonchalant manner that also betrayed his nervousness.

(Y/N) did not bother to fix anything about her appearance while she hid her blade away without even wiping it. Her anger rose as she looked at the filthy army of the Orcs below them.

“We are your only future and our path is your only path!” She yelled at them, feeling her face swelling up with thick, black blood she inherited from her father’s cursed flesh he had been bound to. Another long silence occurred at her outburst and she felt herself calming down a little at the sight of the Orcs tilting their heads. Perhaps only now they had truly realised whose daughter she really was and that it was not wise to raise her anger. “Who among you dare say otherwise?” She asked, calmly.

No one dared to say anything, therefore she stood by Adar’s side and he took Mairon’s crown from one of the velvet cushions. Her husband was supposed to be crowned first and she cracked a smile at him once he was kneeling down, presenting himself nearly humbly as he waited for Morgoth’s reforged crown to be put onto his head.

The Orcs were growling and snarling when Adar raised the crown to show it to them but now, when (Y/N) had tasted their blood, she was not afraid to taste more. She would fight each one of them if she had to. It was her right. Her father had created them and they had no right to question her or her husband.

She had chosen Mairon to be her companion. Perhaps he had been manipulating her into this choice but, in the end, it had been entirely her decision to choose him despite everything. The only person in the whole world who had any right to question him was she. Nobody else.

She was about to become the Queen of Middle-earth and only the Queen could question her King Consort. The one she had chosen for herself.

She got a little dreamy thinking all these thoughts and spotted Mairon looking up to meet her gaze. He was so uncertain at the moment, so humiliated and so humble… Her heart clenched inside her chest as she sent him an encouraging and loving smile. It visibly soothed him and he looked down once more.

Perhaps he would never be truly worthy of her but still – out of all the men in Middle-earth – he was the most worthy one.

“All Hail, Lord Sauron and Lady (Y/N)!” Adar exclaimed in the Black Speech. “The New Dark Lord and The Dark Queen.”

A shiver of anticipation travelled down her body. Perhaps her husband would never be truly worthy of her but the truth was – she would not have been there if it was not for him. He made it all possible. He was the one to take her back from her father’s cold realm created to protect her. Because, genuinely, she was not sure if she had been able to get out of there alone.

She owed him everything just like he owed everything to her.

“All hail!” The Orcs chanted hesitantly and Adar walked up to Mairon.

(Y/N) watched Adar carefully – something was not right about him, something was very off-putting and very worrying. She furrowed her brows and then she realised what he was about to do after raising the crown up and turning it around in a swift movement, directing the iron spikes at Mairon.

“No!” She yelled and jumped into the front but a sharp pain in the abdomen stopped her from continuing.

“No!” It was Mairon’s turn to scream now as she looked down and saw the spikes of her father’s crown buried deep into her stomach. She raised her eyes and furrowed her brows at Adar – her assassin. There was satisfaction written all over his face.

“I pitied you… But you are just like him,” he whispered before taking the spikes out of her body and turning around to attack Mairon with them now. (Y/N) reached her hands out weakly but she fell to her knees and grabbed her hurt stomach.

She should not die easily – after all she was half a Vala. But she was also half an Elf and the Vala who was her father had been bound to his flesh. Therefore, an item so powerful was able to defeat her – or at least to destroy her flesh.

She choked at the blurred sight of her husband being pierced through with Morgoth’s crown and then a bunch of Orcs came at him. He was trying to fight them back bravely and get to her, shouting her name but it was all for nothing. There were too many of the Orcs keeping them apart and tearing him to pieces.

(Y/N) sobbed and Adar crouched down next to her, holding her chin up so her dying eyes could still see her husband’s torment.

“The legacy of your father is gone now,” Adar whispered right before she lost consciousness.

When (Y/N) came back to reality, she felt her own presence but there was no shape nor flesh around it. She existed as a spirit and she found herself inside the very same hall she had been slain in but it was empty now. There were dark shadows where her body and her husband’s body had laid in the puddles of thick, black blood as anger filled her whole presence at the memory of betrayal.

She felt the cold wind coming inside through the doors and she was on her way outside, already trying to come up with what her next flesh would look like. She had lost the one she was given by birth – the one which actually looked like a mix of her mother and the body her father had been bound to. But now she would forge a new flesh for herself and she had to admit that was quite exciting. Perhaps without pointy ears this time – to blend in with the crowd.

Her plan was to leave the North and to go South. To join the humans and the Elves and all the other creatures living there – to meet them, to see how they lived, to learn their patterns and about the world she was supposed to rule one day.

Finally she would leave the land of the endless snow. Where once her father and then her husband had kept her as if she was their prisoner.

But as she moved closer and closer to the door, she felt a tugging presence within the walls of the abandoned fortress. Sauron.

He was still alive somehow – in a way – just like she was but much weaker and not as aware of his own self as she was. It was no surprise, after all he was only a Maia.

And if she left him now, perhaps he would never survive on his own.

(Y/N) froze right in front of the doors leading outside. She wanted to go, she really did. She had craved to see the world ever since she had been a little girl…

But she could not leave him. She could not leave Sauron. Her husband. 

She remembered his nervous smile, his fidgeting fingers, his ginger hair, his blushing cheeks. How he would steal delicate kisses from her, how they would lay in each other’s arms under the covers and whisper sweet things. How his eyelashes would brush the skin of her cheeks in the most intimate moments.

She could not leave him. He needed her.

Even though she was not sure if he would do the same thing for her.

And just like that, she retreated and went down to the dark, cold and damp corridors under the fortress. And even though she was capable of forging herself a new flesh much quicker than he was, she delayed it because she allowed his weak and pathetic form to feed off of her energy to keep him strong and alive. She was giving herself away to him – piece by piece, which was slowing down her own progress of forging new body but it was increasing the speed of his. And she nearly felt chained with her own devotion instead of the real chains – just like her mother remained chained to her father in some foreign realm where Melkor was being punished.

“You can heal, too,” Mairon assured (Y/N) and reached out to help the dying butterfly. “Look,” he focused on giving away some of his energy to make the butterfly regain its strength and the young woman’s eyes sparkled as she laughed.

“You fed him with your own spirit,” (Y/N) noticed. “Why do you think I would let any parasite feed off of me? Who would be ever worthy of sharing my power?” She asked and Mairon’s mouth opened slightly.

This conversation had taken place when they had first met. Apparently, she found out the answer to her question – who would ever be worthy of sharing her power? He was.

(Y/N) was half-Elf and Elves were mortal creatures in a way they could be slain or fatally injured. When Adar had killed her, he had killed the elven part of her. The light was gone from her body now and it was no longer a question of whether she would tilt into the light or the darkness. Oh, no… The decision was made.

“Once we get out of here, once we forge ourselves new flesh, my darling,” she cooed to the black, slimy creature that remained all left of her husband at the moment, “we will have our revenge. And do not even try to stop me from destroying anything or anyone,” she threatened as the black, weakly breathing substance whined. “You are right, my sweet, the world needs to be healed. But it is far too rotten. We have to start over. We have to rebuild it once more, from the ashes of the current one. The Dark Queen and her Dark Lord.”

She had been nothing but a chrysalis so far but – soon – she would bloom into a beautifully terrifying butterfly.

Into her father’s daughter.

MASTERLIST

[genericpuff]

💣💥💣💥💣

so with Episode 67 finally posted and the dust settled, I wanted to share some funny behind-the-scenes stuff with you all.

Clip Studio is a great piece of software, it's what allows Banshriek and I to work on the same episode together via cloud-syncing (it's a function called "Teamworks" in the app) but it's also... kind of garbage sometimes. Without getting too much into it, CSP has a bottleneck issue with how it predominantly uses CPU rather than the graphics card in a computer. And considering it's literally graphics software, yeah, you can probably figure out pretty quickly with the most bare minimum of computer knowledge why this is a problem that's really silly for it to have LOL

ANYWAYS. This has been known to cause problems between Banshriek and I when trying to complete an episode. Problems that - often enough for me to tell you stories about it - result in us having to essentially "rebuild" the episode we're working on. This doesn't necessarily mean having to redraw anything (thankfully that doesn't happen very often) but it usually goes down something like this:

1.) The software suddenly has an issue syncing our changes which results in either conflicted files that can't update, software crashes that refuse to load pages, updates not even going through, or taking WAY too long to update to the point that we'd rather just rebuild and work on the episode independently and then swap the files and layers when it's time for the other person to do their part.

2.) I have to inform Banshriek that Clip Studio crashed again, and in the event that I can't get back into page editing because of the aforementioned issues ^^^ they immediately get to backing up their most recent version of the file that's stored on their computer. Thankfully a lot of the time these versions are pretty up to date, but it's still a moment of tension every single time because these crashes don't always happen the same way every time.

3.) Using the backup version, a new .cmc file (the file that contains every page for each episode, it's the thing that lets you make pages for comics in the software!) is created by whoever has access to the pages without issue (usually Banshriek is the one who's able to do it, this has become a very one-sided problem LMAO) and then is sent to me so that I can upload it to the cloud to replace the old version. This file is then usually called something like "Episode#BACKUP" to distinguish between both versions as we usually still have the older versions downloaded as well.

4.) Work (hopefully) continues as normal. Though it's definitely caused setbacks, so far our survival rate is still 100% 😆

This happens at least every other episode. It's become rare to go a whole episode without having to go through this process. We're still trying to figure out what we can do to avoid it, but we've tried a bunch of other options (and Banshriek has created some test episodes using pages from completed episodes that crashed for the sake of experimenting) and so far it's still a struggle understanding what exactly is going wrong with Clip Studio and it's syncing features. Fortunately, Banshriek and I are both auDHD enough that we're gonna obsess over it until we figure it out LMAO but until then, we're constantly having to treat Clip Studio like a live snake that's trying to wrangle itself out of our hands 💀😆

And the most recent episode? Episode 67, which ran a week and a day late? It set a new personal best for number of backups, because we had to rebuild it not just once, but TWICE.

What we've noticed is that sometimes you can barely make a change to an episode and these crashes still happen, as if major changes have been made. So far the best hypothesis Banshriek has come up with regarding this observation is that the software struggles more to update changes that affect overall pixel count and appearance - stuff like moving canvases, flipping canvases, adding on textured layers (which is what we do at the end of making each page) , etc. that covers a lot of pixels at a time, even if it's only changing the hues / colors slightly, seems to cause the most problems.

During the production of Episode 67, the following plagues came to pass:

Our car exploded

Our cat nearly exploded (btw! for anyone wondering from my last post about him, he's doing better now!)

Our toilet pipes froze twice (and exploded once)

Democracy in the U.S. exploded

My husband's wisdom teeth were exploding so the last 3 of them were removed all at once

The files for Episode 67 exploded twice and had to be rebuilt just to keep it on life support (by the end of the episode we were literally sending files back and forth via Google Drive like peasants 😔 /hj)

The most non-explosive thing to happen was the tattoo shop I work at moving locations up the street, and even then, I came very close to exploding a few times during that process LMAO (and our debit machine just exploded so we're cash only for the next few days sksksks)

This episode was probably our most cursed yet, and frankly, it couldn't be more fitting, I think Dionysus himself had a hand in our madness, just for the sake of being on theme with this episode. And the worst part, we haven't even gotten into the truly chaotic stuff yet. All Dionysus has done so far is slam Hades' head into a table, he's barely gotten started. Dionysus only knows what Episode 68 has in store for me and Banshriek as well 😭💀

[nicksolemnlyswears]

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though. 

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples. 

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white. 

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist. 

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other. 

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back. 

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours. 

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him. 

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop." 

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you. 

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically. 

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier. 

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds. 

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two. 

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder. 

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin. 

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

Off-putting headcanons for the tiefling bachelors

Nobody is perfect, this includes my beloved tiefling bachelors.

Off-putting headcanons for them under the cut.

–---------------------------------------------

Zevlor: Sometimes says some out-of-pocket prejudiced shit. Not anything bad bad, but more tactless/gauche.

Example A: Drow Tav.

Zevlor: "I wouldn't have looked to a drow for help, but I'm grateful all the same." Drow Tav: "Do you have something against drow?" Zevlor: "I meant no insult! It's simply that yours are a people at war with themselves— I've never known for them to care for outsiders."

(Racist, albeit not inaccurate 💀, drow stereotypes.)

**When I head this line I actually said outloud, "Bro, your charisma stat is a 17 and you're a tiefling who's experienced this same kind of prejudice, how are you this foot-in-mouth!?"**

He also makes those terrifyingly loud, earth shaking, world ending, dad sneezes.

---

Rolan: Fastidiously fussy **cough** anal retentive **cough** about how things are organized/cleaned. If his home doesn't look like the cover of a furniture catalogue/magazine then he isn't happy.

He's gone without control over his environment for so long that I wouldn't be surprised if he now has a complex about his space being exactly how he wants it.

(At one point in-game the siblings joke about Rolan finally being able to color-code his sock drawer.)

If we accept the headcanon that the siblings were poor in Elturel then Rolan probably had to share a room with Cal. I can absolutely see this man having drawn a line down the middle of the room to separate his own tidy space from Cal's "messy" space.

(I put 'messy' in quotation marks because Cal doesn't strike me as a slob, just as someone who isn't afraid to allow his space to look lived in.)

Also, a younger Lia would absolutely go and move Rolan's stuff around just to fuck with him.

---

Dammon: Is unable to sleep past 6 A.M. and is a disgustingly chipper morning person.

He also refuses to acknowledge his trauma from Avernus. My mans will casually tell you the most horrifying thing about his time in the Hells and then be genuinely surprised when you react with shock and concern.

"Yeah, I watched as Carixim drained the life-force out of one of the other apprentices for mildly displeasing him, adding yet another voice to the innumerable cacophony of screams of the dammned that were already trapped beneath his grotesque flesh as they wailed for a mercy that would never come, all while knowing that I was just one wrong move away from joining them in their never ending suffering— but my time trapped in the Hells wasn't that bad. What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

[strwbrythoughts]

time's up | dr. veritas ratio

The doctor - also known as your husband - has come to refine your problem-solving skills, particularly in mathematics.

A/N: This man is insufferable but I simp because smart + muscles = hot!!! Also can you see me projecting onto this and wdym i don't like triangles, ngl i accidentally switched to first person pov at the ending 💀 this is why i need to find time to write in my busy busy schedule

Divider by @/osqrie

"You have 15 minutes to solve these questions. You may begin."

The soft click of the digital stopwatch in his right hand sounded louder than ever to your ears. Your eyes went from his soft, smiling face - which in itself, was a rarity - towards the questions printed on the single sheet of white, A4-sized paper on your desk. They were all mathematics equations. Every single one was an integration-related question.

You always thought that you could escape the topics you didn't like after finishing your studies in the undergraduate level. Life had been pretty smooth-sailing after graduation; you opened a cute and cozy bakery, you married a genius, lived in a comfortable home, have and maintain a loving relationship...but this. This was the least of what you would expect. Being tutored and tested on the one subject you refused to take back in university.

Or perhaps it was your mistake when you told him your weak points in the academic aspect of yourself. That was a side effect of marrying a genius, you supposed...or a 'Mundanite' as he would use to refer to himself.

But you couldn't think of that now. You had a test to complete, and you didn't want to receive his punishment for not being able to do so within the given timeframe. His eyes could be felt on you, as if burning into your body and directly gazing at the very essence of your soul. The rise in your heartbeat and downturned gaze highlighted how nervous you felt to answer this paper.

After taking a deep breath to clear your head, you observed the questions carefully. There were 3 questions, and all of them were pretty easy to solve (or at least, that was what the instructions said). The first two questions were fine; only including polynomials and exponents respectively. As you got to the third question though...you couldn't say it was 'fine'.

It included one of your most disliked topics...trigonometry.

Granted, the trigonometry was pretty simple, but you never seemed to be able to wrap your head around how so many formulas could be derived from them. When Veritas explained it to you in one of your tutoring sessions, you asked for more breaks than usual since you had put a barrier in your mind; 'I will never understand this'; which in turn, made the topic seemed harder than it actually was.

The soft 'ding!' of the bell on my desk reminded you that you had five minutes left for this last question. You gulped, hoping your nervousness would be swallowed away as well. His eyes were glued to the back of your head; not that you dared to look behind my shoulder at the moment.

Every second counts after all, even if you had no clue what steps you should take to solve the problem on the paper.

Your brain seemed to malfunction and your memorisation skills failed you right this moment. You didn't remember the basic formulas, and you didn't know how to derive them from the triangles either. With no viable options left, you decided to unleash your expertise; cooking up your own theories.

'Ah, he's definitely punishing me for this...' was the only thought floating in your brain. Autopilot mode was switched on, and your hand glided across the paper, writing down whatever nonsense that seemed to be related to trigonometry, regardless whether they were correct or not.

The digital stopwatch in Veritas' hand had reached its last minute; the fifteenth minute. "Time's up," his voice bounced off the white walls right into your ears. "Put down your pen and stop writing."

Although reluctant, you did not wish for a heavier punishment. His words were followed by the sound of the pen being put onto the wooden desk. Within seconds, he was stood right next to your desk, using his index finger and thumb to pick up the piece of paper.

His eyes scanned my answers, going from left to right as he inspected each line of working. There was a faint smile on his lips...until it was gone.

Gulp.

He had definitely seen the absolute mess you made on the last question.

A slam onto the wooden desk; you swore you heard the wood crack a little bit. "Did I not teach you this last question?" You could barely reply. His tone was dripping with condescension, but you didn't take offence from it. Both you and him knew he had the right intentions, but his ways wouldn't be able to satisfy everyone.

"You did! I...I just didn't like it."

Veritas let out a 'tsk' thrice, seeming almost animated as he did so. "You do know what you have to do now, right? So come on, what are you waiting for? Is time not ticking?" He took a seat on his chair, eyes looking straight into mine.

You sighed, preparing your facial muscles...as you climbed into his lap. Ah yes, the 'one hundred kisses or you're not leaving this room' punishment. A classic, really. Your lips peppered his face, landing on each part like the first snow of winter; gentle and heartwarming.

"Lunchtime is nearing, so you better carry out your responsibility quickly and dutifully, dear. You'd hate to have lunch at 4 PM again, hm?"

Ah, crap! He was right! Better get to work now!

Thank you for reading!

[speaknow-sw]

THE POET AND THE ROSE

Content : pure fluff, alternative ending.

A/N : some people requested it so I typed this in like 20min just for you. Hope it’ll bring you more happiness💕💀. @rayaskoalaland , @anakinca Here’s for youuuuu.

꧁ Alternative Ending ꧂

The house stood on a quiet hill, surrounded by wildflowers swaying in the breeze. The sun bathed the valley in golden light, casting shadows of children playing outside. Laughter rang out—pure, unrestrained joy. The Skywalker home was filled with life, with love, and with the echoes of a family that had found peace.

Anakin Skywalker stood at the edge of the yard, his arms crossed over his chest, watching his children run about. His dark hair was flecked with silver now, but his eyes remained as sharp and warm as ever. He smiled softly as his daughters took turns chasing each other, wooden swords in hand.

"You're too slow, James !" the eldest, Eleanor, teased her younger brother. At ten years old, Eleanor was already a force to be reckoned with—fierce, bold, and with a mind as sharp as her father’s. Her wild curls bounced as she spun, holding her wooden sword with surprising grace.

James, just three, stomped his foot in frustration. "I’m not slow! I’m strong!" he declared, puffing out his chest in defiance.

Anakin chuckled, stepping forward to kneel before his son. "And you’ll be stronger still, my little warrior. But strength comes with patience. Watch your sisters, learn from them." He ruffled Alaric’s dark hair. "And then show them what you’ve got."

James grinned, brandishing his tiny sword with determination.

Nearby, you watched with a soft smile, a basket of freshly picked herbs on your hip. You had always known Anakin would be a wonderful father, but seeing him now—with your children surrounding him, his laughter mingling with theirs—it filled you with an indescribable warmth.

Anakin turned to you, his eyes softening. "Come join us, my rose," he said, holding out his hand.

You placed the basket down and walked toward him, letting him pull you into his arms. His embrace was still as comforting and strong as it had been all those years ago. "They’re growing up so fast," you murmured.

"They are," Anakin agreed. "But I’m not ready to let them go just yet."

"Then don’t," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Later that evening, the children gathered around the fire as Anakin carved a small wooden sword for James. Each child had their own custom sword or toy, all carved by their father’s hands.

"Tell us a story, Papa!" begged your second daughter, Roselyn, her green eyes wide with excitement.

Anakin smirked, setting down the carving. "What story would you like to hear?"

"The one about how you met Mama!"

The children gasped in delight as Anakin began to tell the tale—how he had fallen for the princess who painted in secret, how he had crossed borders and battled armies for her. He embellished parts, of course, to make it more thrilling for the little ones, but the heart of the story was true.

"And in the end," he finished, pulling you close, "I vowed to protect her with my life. And I have never broken that vow."

Your youngest daughter, Lyanna, climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Mama says you carved cribs for us when we were babies. Is that true?"

Anakin chuckled. "Of course. I carved a crib for each of you."

"And you sang to us?" asked your eldest, Eleanor.

Anakin nodded, his voice softening. "I sang to each of you, every night. And I’ll keep singing, for as long as you want to hear it."

One day, as you sat by the window, painting the wildflowers blooming outside, you heard the familiar sound of your children’s laughter. You looked out to see Anakin with all five of them, teaching Eleanor how to perfect her sword grip while Alaric clung to his leg, refusing to be left out.

"You’ll make a fine knight one day, James," Anakin told him. "But remember—strength is in the heart, not just the sword."

"And me?" Eleanor asked, grinning.

Anakin smiled proudly. "You’ll make a knight no king will dare cross. But more importantly, you’ll be kind. And that’s the strongest thing of all."

You stepped outside, watching as Anakin gathered all the children in his arms, spinning them around as they squealed with delight.

"Papa!" they cried. "Again!"

And Anakin laughed—a sound so full of life, it echoed through the hills, a melody of love, of peace, of everything he had fought so hard to protect.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the family sat together by the fire, wrapped in blankets, listening to Anakin’s stories once more. You rested your head on his shoulder, your heart full.

This was your legacy—a home filled with laughter, love, and life. Anakin’s vow had held true. He had never let anyone take you from him. And in the quiet moments, as your children drifted to sleep, he whispered promises of forever.

"I love you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"And I love you," you replied.

And in that moment, you both knew—there was no greater victory than that.

The court was bustling with activity. Nobles from across the land had gathered for the spring festival—a time of celebration and peace. Musicians played lively tunes, the scent of roses filled the great hall, and children ran freely through the corridors, their laughter echoing off the stone walls.

Anakin stood near the throne, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His gaze flickered from the crowd to his children, scattered across the room. His eldest daughters, Eleanor and Roselyn, were holding court with a group of noblewomen, their heads held high, their smiles radiant. Even at ten and nine years old, they commanded attention like queens.

"They grow more like you every day," you whispered, slipping your arm through his.

Anakin chuckled, shaking his head. "Gods help us all, then. They’ll take my rank before they’re twenty."

You laughed, squeezing his arm. "And you wouldn’t mind one bit."

His expression softened as he looked at you. "Not if it means they’re safe and happy."

Across the hall, your third daughter, Elara, was trying (and failing) to teach her five-year-old sister, Lyanna, how to curtsy. Lyanna, ever defiant, crossed her arms. "Papa never makes me curtsy!"

Anakin grinned. "She’s not wrong."

You shot him a playful glare. "You’re spoiling her."

"Of course I am," he said proudly. "It’s my duty."

The festival continued, and as dusk fell, the little family gathered in the gardens for a more intimate celebration. Eleanor, ever the responsible one, helped set up the table while Roselyn chased fireflies with Lyanna. Elara sat on the grass, weaving a crown of daisies for her little brother, Alaric, who giggled as he tried to sit still.

"Papa!" Lyanna called, running up to Anakin with a wildflower bouquet. "I picked these for you!"

Anakin knelt, accepting the flowers with a dramatic flourish. "For me? Why, I must be the luckiest man in the kingdom."

Lyanna beamed. "You are!"

He scooped her up, twirling her around as she squealed in delight. "And you, my little lioness, are the fiercest in the land."

Elara tugged on his sleeve. "Papa, can I ride with you tomorrow when you go to the village?"

Anakin knelt to her level. "You want to come with me?"

She nodded eagerly. "I want to see the world!"

Anakin smiled softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. "The world can be dangerous, my tiny rose."

"But you’ll protect me," she said confidently.

He sighed, kissing her forehead. "Always."

The next day, court was in session. Anakin sat at the head of the hall, his children by his side. Eleanor sat straight-backed beside him, her eyes sharp and observant. Roselyn twirled a strand of her hair, bored with the proceedings, while Elara whispered stories to Lyanna to keep her entertained. Alaric sat on Anakin’s lap, his small hands gripping his father’s sword hilt.

"Papa," James whispered, "why do we have to be here?"

"Because one day, you’ll need to know how to lead," Anakin said gently.

"But I don’t want to be a general," James pouted.

Anakin chuckled. "Good. That means you’ll be a wise one."

As the court proceedings droned on, Anakin’s focus remained on his family. When a nobleman dared to suggest that his daughters were unfit to learn the art of swordsmanship, Anakin’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

"My daughters will wield swords if they wish," Anakin said, his voice like steel. "They’ll wield power. They’ll be warriors. And they’ll have no need of any man to defend them."

Eleanor smirked. "I’ll be the best swordswoman in the land."

"And I’ll be better than you," Roselyn teased.

"You wish!" Eleanor shot back.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, pride swelling in his chest as he watched his daughters. They were his legacy—not titles or lands, but fierce, intelligent, unstoppable girls who would shape the future.

As night fell, Anakin made his rounds through the castle, tucking each of his children into bed. He knelt by Eleanor’s bedside, brushing her hair back.

"Papa," she murmured sleepily, "will you tell me a story?"

He smiled. "Of course. What would you like to hear?"

"Tell me about Mama."

Anakin’s heart softened. "Your mother is the bravest woman I’ve ever known. She saved me in every way a man can be saved."

Eleanor smiled, her eyes fluttering closed. "I want to be like her."

"You already are, my rose."

In the next room, Roselyn and Elara were already asleep, their arms tangled around each other. Anakin kissed each of their foreheads, murmuring words of love before moving on.

In Lyanna’s room, he found her sitting up, clutching a wooden sword.

"Papa, can you teach me a new move tomorrow?" she asked.

Anakin chuckled. "Of course. But only if you promise to sleep now."

"Promise," Lyanna whispered, settling back into bed.

Finally, he reached James’ room. The little boy was already half-asleep, clutching the wooden lion Anakin had sewn for him.

"Papa," James mumbled, "will you always be here?"

Anakin knelt beside him, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. "Always."

As he left the room, you joined him in the hallway. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

"They’ll be great leaders one day," you whispered.

"They already are," Anakin said softly. "And I’ll make sure they always know how much they’re loved."

Later, as you both sat by the fire, Anakin pulled out one of the wooden cribs he had carved.

"Are you making another one?" you teased.

He laughed. "No. But I thought it might be nice to keep them. A reminder of when they were small."

You leaned against him, your hand resting over his. "They’ll always be our babies."

"And you’ll always be my rose," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And after all… we could make a sixth one." He grinned playfully.

The flames crackled, the warmth of the fire matching the warmth in your hearts. Outside, the stars shone brightly over the quiet castle—a symbol of the love, peace, and joy that now filled your lives.

The story of the poet and the rose had not ended in tragedy, but in love—eternal, unbreakable, and true.

[maodear]

Yapping about the contestants Guardian’s!

TW: Abuse,drugs,SA and etc.

So not many people talk about the Guardian’s in alien stage. I will be making opinions on each, but I will probably write more about the guardians when my art-book comes. Which would have all the lore I need.

Shine 🩷 (Mizi’s guardian

As we all should know, Shine is the most friendliest and definitely the most sweetest Gurdian. She loves humans and has curiosity to them. Mizi and Shien definitely had the most closest thing to a Mother and Daughter relationship out of everyone else.

Shine wanted nothing but good for Mizi, which is probably why she wanted her to be in Anakt Garden. Mizi had talent for singing and dancing. I am sure that if Shine knew that Mizi would have to suffer and go through pain. She would have not done it at all.

During round 5, Shine was watching. And you can tell how she felt looking at Mizi. She looks so sad :((

In all of Mizi’s birthday art or official art with Shine. She looked so happy in each one, always smiling or having fun. Shine loves Mizi like a normal person would love there pet. It seems messed up but Aliens see humans as Pets. But Shine still loves Mizi as her

Urak 🖕 ((Tills guardian

Urak is the Segyein of Till. And I will say he sucks the most. He treats Till horribly, in all ways. Mentally and physically. Urak has had other of his pets compete in Alien stage, but he says that Till is different from all of them because of his personality. He goes on saying that He only kept Till alive because of his Musical Talent he has. Urak believes that a Gurdian should learn right away what their pet’s strengths are to see if they are worthy.

In round 6 flashback Urak is forcing Till to sing “Oh my clematis” which Till refused to, which Urak throws a bottle at him, pinned him to a table. And when Till does break free, He attacked another segyein. Urak then once again assisted in restraining him. It’s said that Till was also SA in that flashback.

When Urak was asked about round 6 in an interview, Urak says that the only thing that matters is winning. It doesn’t matter how, if he wins it all worked. He also does expressed that it’s possible for Till to beat Luka, given how much Urak invested in him. (Which ages perfectly))

As much as I hate to admit. Even if Till is alive or not. I’m glad he lost because Urak has set another of his pets for Failure. And I hope he knows that, no matter how much he abuses, drugs or whatever shit he does. It won’t work because he will always set them in failure. Over and over again and it’s his fault.

Apparently Unsha and Urak have romance..??

Unsha🐁 ((Ivan’s guardian

Unsha is the Segyein of Ivan. Unsha isn’t physically abusive to Ivan but definitely is mentally. He has horrible has Urak since both Mentally and Physically hurt as much.

Unsha bought Ivan for his wife since it was her birthday. Ivan was choose because of his eyes which he found intriguing. Unsha also does mention that he had just begun to venture into the pet human entertainment business, so the timing was perfect for him. Which makes me believe that Ivan was Unsha’s first Pet.

If I’m correct In an interview, Ivan claims that Unsha is well known and him and Urak had nothing more then a business relationship. Saying they weren’t close in any way. Nothing more nothing less.

When asked for his thoughts on Ivan's impulsive actions during Round 6, Unsha replied saying he was disappointed that Ivan essentially forfeited the round, and he thought Ivan had a lot of potential even before Alien stage. He also admitted to being curious about what Ivan was thinking during around 6.

He closes the interview by saying he felt like he learned a lot being with Ivan, and it was worth the loss. He lastly that he doesn’t intend to participate in Alien stage again anytime soon.

Phan💀(Hyunas and Hyun-woo Gurdian

Phan is the Gurdian Segyein of Hyuna and Hyun-woo. Not much is shown or known of her since she was never brought up.

I did find that Heperu has an interesting to her similar to how Luka is obsessed with Hyuna.

((Not my picture! I don’t own the Art-book yet!)

Heperu🖕🖕🖕 (Lukas Gurdian

Heperu is the Gurdian Segyein of Luka. I might get blasted for this but I believe he’s the worst one yet. He claims that he had made Luka overcome fear, which makes me wonder what kind of things he had done to Luka. As we know Luka as went through a test with was monitoring his heart rate, and stoping his heart completely. Luka barley shows any kind of emotion. But he was crying in that art, Heperu disgust me.

Heperu ego is very high I can tell, because in a interview he claims that all of Lukas achievements and his talent is because of him. And he should thank him always for making him perfect. He always puts Luka very high, saying he will win no matter what.

In one of Lukas official art it shows Heperu shadow being in a position in which looks like kissing.?? And his hand was caressing him. Luka also looked quite young too which just gives me more creeps.

In the music Video all-in Luka kissed Hyuna, which I want to say. Was because of Heperu. Usually when someone was SA they see as a normal thing and do it to another person. That would explain why Luka kisses Hyuna.

Luka has been out through so much stuff because of Heperu and like everyone else has. Luka as very right to be the way he is. Because of Heperu and how cruel he is, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Till did become the same way.

Heperu also has a thing for Phan, having an attraction to Phan, just like Luka has an attraction to Hyuna??

Neigh🐛 (Sua’s Guardian

Not much is known from Neigh, but from what we know is that Niegh sees pets as nothing more than dolls. She dressed them all out usually the same. In a white dress like a doll.

In Neigh’s profile it’s shown that she has 0% interest in Sua. Probably because Sua is a copy of everyone else there. They are all the same as emotionless dolls. With no feelings or opinions.

——<3

Pretty sure that’s everyone? When my art-book arrives I will make any other post on the Guardians probably.

I may hate every Guardian except for Shine, but they hold a lot of meaning in the story which I appreciate.

Thanks for taking your time to read all of this <33

[hewinked]

im not that big on harry potter anymore but I could go on for hours about snape and how much he is not redeemable

like fr people want to milk some nuance out of harry potter so badly they refused to see how NOT misunderstood snape was

bro was petty as hell for living the rest of his life after that rejection as a big dramatic cunt

like sure man, I too if I had the chance might occasionally bully a child, in good fun, as a teacher

and sure, being dramatic? god given right to be dramatic when the time calls for it honestly

but man's lived every second of every day that way, being as heinous as he could be to literally everyone

man's was a horrible teacher too, you could argue he was a great potion maker or something because of the book he wrote as a teenager, but he didnt teach any of the stuff he wrote in that book, he taught from other peoples books, plus this man spent so much time insulting those kids abilities i think he forgot to actually do more then read out whatever book he picked

like the only kids who succeed in his class are people who do way too much extra work (hermoine) and the few Slytherin kids that he legitimately private tutors

also neville having snape as his worst fear before all the war stuff is crazy because genuinely how much did you harrass this kid

also id like to say that fact that he was bullied by the marauder's is iirrelevant, I too would bully a fellow student if they went around hate speeching half-blood kids when they themselves are a half-blood

and ik he did because not only is it implied by remus and sirius in prisonor of azkaban, but he calls lily a mudblood so casually and then only apologizes bcs he has a crush on her

also he had originally genuinely joined up with the death eaters without the intention to spy so i dont wanna hear that he isnt a wizard racist bcs he so was

even though there is that thing where jk rowling said he only joined bcs he thought it would impress lily, but genuinely i think she was just trying to feed the sympathizers to back up her own half assed redemption attempt because yeah, i dont like snape's personallity but he couldnt have been a complete idiot,

who is stupid enough they join a group known for, and based on the belief that muggles and mudbloods should all be killed off, because they want to impress a half-blood girl?

imagine joining the kkk and becoming like a high ranking member of it bcs you want to impress a black girl so she'll date you💀💀💀

anyways i realize i said i wasnt that into harry potter in the begginning of this and then wrote all this but genuinely people who sympathize with snape are dumb

also last bit

cunty snape edits as a joke > cunty snape edits bcs you simpathize

sad snape edits of him burned > sad snape edits bcs you simpathize

simping over Alan Rickman > simping over snape