evelyne

Frieza

He's a narcissist who genuinely believes the entire universe belongs to him. That possessiveness would clearly go into overdrive with a partner, because you wouldn't just be his: you'd be the one thing in his empire he actually chose instead of conquered.

He doesn't ask at all, he doesn't even think of doing it. You're his the moment he decides it, and he'll never once consider that you might've wanted a say.

Theatrical about it too... introduces you to enemies and subordinates as "mine" with this delighted, mocking little smile, like he's daring them to react badly so he has an excuse to get violent.

Absolutely tracks your movements through his men, has eyes on you at all times across the ship. not out of insecurity, he'd never admit that. He is just thinking that is the norm, like "why wouldn't I know where my things are at all times?"

Punishes anyone who so much as looks at you too long, and does it in front of you, calm and smiling, like it's a gift he's giving you rather than a threat.

The scary part is how quiet he (usually) is about all of it. No yelling, no possessive outbursts or trivial things like these. Why should he in the very first place? After all,he's sure that your place is with him, and there's no other way.

if you ever tried to leave, he wouldn't even panic. he'd just be almost amused, like watching a pet try to escape a very nice cage... right before he made sure it never happened again

He doesn't do romance in any traditional sense. doesn't need to. his version of affection is letting you live, letting you keep your name, letting the galaxy know you're untouchable because you're his. And expecting endless gratitude for it.

Zarbon

So...Zarbon is canonically obsessed with beauty and image, vain almost to Frieza's level, and deeply insecure underneath his composed exterior. I see him as someone who needs to possess something beautiful to prove his own worth, and who transforms into something monstrous the moment he feels that control slipping.

Initially treats you like an accessory to his image; impeccably dressed, always presented perfectly, shown off at Frieza's side functions like a trophy.

Deeply insecure about comparison. He hates it if you so much as compliment another man's looks, takes it as a personal attack on his own worth.

His transformed state is basically a metaphor: the calm, elegant mask slips completely the moment he feels threatened or disrespected, and what's underneath is much scarier.

Controlling about your appearance specifically. He wants you dressed a certain way because how you look directly reflects on him.

He would frame every act of control as devotion: "I only want you looking your best" while slowly deciding what your best actually means.

Cell

He's obsessed with being the perfect being, and once he decides you're his, you become part of that perfection. At the point where losing you wouldn't just hurt his feelings, it'd feel like a flaw in his design, something unacceptable.

He treats you like a prize he earned through evolution, smug and superior about it, like your existence at his side proves he's better than every fighter he's absorbed.

He would absolutely try to improve your life to keep you dependent on him...better clothes, better shelter, fewer reasons to need anyone else.

Weirdly possessive about your attention specifically, more than your body or your loyalty. He hates being ignored more than almost anything, sees it as a personal failure.

As we already know, games are his language, even with you. He'll test your loyalty like he tests opponents, setting up little scenarios just to watch how you react.

Doesn't get jealous so much as insulted, if you show interest elsewhere, he treats it less like heartbreak and more like you've made an error in judgment he needs to correct.

Broly

Well, he's practically...pure instinct. if he's imprinted on you as safe (or as his), separating you two is genuinely dangerous: not out of malice but because he doesn't regulate that panic well at all.

Gentle with you specifically, yet terrifying with anyone who gets near you... the contrast is the whole appeal.

Doesn't understand subtlety at all. If he's anxious you'll leave or get hurt, he says so, bluntly, sometimes clinging in a way that's more scared than controlling.

His rage state is canonically tied to also protecting people he loves, easy to extend that into something that spirals hard if you're ever in danger in front of him.

He doesn't manipulate you, he just physically will not let you go somewhere he perceives as unsafe, and his definition of unsafe gets broader the more attached he gets

You have to consider him less like a controlling mastermind and more like a devoted force of nature that as we already said happens to be terrifying to everyone but you.

Vegeta (Pre-redemption arc)

Clearly a pride-driven yandere. Which almost makes it scarier, because it means you're not dealing with someone chasing a feeling, you're dealing with someone whose ego has decided you belong to him and will not accept an alternate outcome.

Possessive through sheer arrogance, to be honest the idea that you'd want anyone or anything other than him doesn't even register as a real possibility in his mind.

He would never say anything soft about it out loud. Instead you get actions: showing up somewhere dangerous "by coincidence" , positioning himself between you and any threat without a word of explanation and things like these.

Treats your safety as a reflection of his own strength: if something happens to you, he takes it as a personal failure, and Saiyan pride does not handle failure well.

Doesn't do jealousy the way other people do: doesn't sulk or confront at all. He just gets colder, more clipped, trains harder, and makes it very clear without saying it that he noticed.

The control is subtle at first: opinions on where you go, who you see, framed as practical concerns about your safety rather than possessiveness. Until you realize he's slowly narrowed your whole world down to orbit around him, but by the time you realize it, it will already be too late to do anything.

Cooler

Cooler is Frieza's older brother, and where Frieza is theatrical and flashy about his cruelty, Cooler is cold, disciplined, and controlled, which makes him very different from his younger brother. In fact, he doesn't need to perform ownership for an audience at all. He just quietly makes sure there's no version of your life that doesn't include him.

Doesn't announce that you're his the way Frieza would, he just calmly eliminates any variable that might suggest otherwise before you even notice the threat existed.

He views emotional displays as weakness, so his control never looks like jealousy on the surface... It looks like efficiency, like he's simply removing inconvenient obstacles from an equation.

Expects total composure from you in turn, and reacts with a chilling disappointment if you show fear or defiance in front of his men, like you've embarrassed him.

Doesn't do warmth or soft language, the closest thing to affection he offers is competence: making sure you're protected, provided for, and untouchable, he considers that more than enough.

Android 17

His being built purely to kill Goku without hesitation, added to years of near-total independence from any authority except his own led him to genuinely not feel obligated to justify himself to anyone. If he decides you're his, that's simply the new fact of your existence, and he won't waste time explaining why.

He doesn't perform affection or possessiveness the way more theatrical villains do, his attachment is quiet, almost bored on the surface, but absolute underneath. He'd rather show you than tell you, and showing you often means a lots of things, included removing a threat before you even register it existed.

Canonically has an unshakeable bond with his twin sister, fiercely protective in a way that isn't loud or dramatic, just non-negotiable. That same instinct redirected at a partner would look like someone who doesn't ask permission to get involved in your problems, he just does because he wants to.

If we're talking about early-game android 17...well, he kills without a flicker of hesitation or remorse. Anyone who threatens you or tries to pull you away isn't met with a warning, they're just gone, and he doesn't see the need to mention it afterward. If you witness the incident, however, he will expect you to act as if nothing happened.

He doesn't do jealousy in an insecure way, he's too detached and self-assured for that. It reads more like irritation at an inconvenience, someone touching something that's already been decided as his.

Later canon (Super) shows he's capable of real loyalty and quiet domestic care once he actually commits to something, which creates an interesting arc: cold at first, but once he's claimed you, unexpectedly steady and protective.

Moro

Moro doesn't just want you close. He wants to consume, to take pieces of what makes you yourself, and call it intimacy.

Treats closeness with you as something almost nutritive, having your attention feels to him like something he needs rather than wants, and he's unbothered by how unsettling that sounds out loud.

Being centuries old he has learned patience most people never archive. When you're thinking about your old life or your family he doesn't rush at all,its facade is actually TOO quiet. He just slowly and methodically ensures you have nowhere else to go

He often gives you gifts: promises of power, healing,or simple things you asked for. But don't be fooled,these gifts always come with an invisible cost,he is always tightening his hold on you a little more.

The problem here is structural: he's not attached to you as a person so much as he's attached to what having you does for him, and he's honest about that in a way that's almost worse than lying about it.

Lord Beerus

This is a god of destruction who has never once had to consider anyone else's autonomy in his entire existence. So what we got here is a god who's decided, almost lazily, that you're his and doesn't see why that should be up for discussion.

If he took you it's because he really cares, and if he really cares he treats you as an exception to his famous impatience. Everything and everyone else bores or irritates him within minutes, but you get an unsettling amount of his attention, and he's not subtle about the double standard.

He doesn't threaten people who get close to you, he just makes it clear that they can't, once, and trusts that fear of him will do the rest. But if we're honest, there won't be any need for that, No one would ever knowingly try to go against him.

He has zero interest in performing romance or affection, but shows attachment through proximity. He simply doesn't leave, doesn't let you out of his orbit, without ever framing it as neediness. In the privacy of his planet he will lowkey force you to sleep with him, but like... really just sleep, yk the man.

His temper can be catastrophic, and the idea of it being triggered by someone threatening you specifically is not that far from reality.

Congratulations! a being who could unmake a planet without much thought decided that you, specifically, are the one thing in the universe he won't allow anyone to touch.

Raditz

He claims you almost immediately and treats it as settled fact. He doesn't court you (I honestly don't even think saiyans do that but thats a story for another day), he just decides you're his and gets visibly irritated if you act like that's up for debate.

Boastful about you to other the same way he boasts about his power level, more interested in the status of having you than in any other aspect.

He has a short temper AND even shorter patience for rejection. He gets aggressive, and unfortunately for you has no filter for how he expresses it.

Canonically willing to abandon family loyalty for personal gain, which extends in an unsettling way here: he'd justify almost anything, betray almost anyone, if it meant keeping you.

But to get to this point he must consider you indispensable to him, so... commit to becoming the definition of the word.

Itachi was a man who had already sacrificed everything, and in you, he found something he couldn't bear to lose.

He wouldn't explain his past; he'd simply make you feel the weight of his gaze,the silent understanding that he knew more than you ever could, and it was completely okay...in his opinion, this didn't make you any less intelligent.

His Sharingan wasn't just an eye; it was a window into your soul, and a gateway to his own meticulously crafted reality. After a particularly brutal mission, or a moment where the sheer terror of the shinobi world threatened to break you, he wouldn't offer comfort in the traditional way...he's not the best at that anyway.

Instead he'd draw you into his Tsukuyomi. Not as a punishment, but as a twisted gift; If anyone ever asked him, he was doing what was best for you, and he genuinely thought so.

In that illusion, time bent to his will; days could pass in moments, years in hours. All spent in a world where every fear was soothed, every desire met, every threat neutralized. You were safe, cherished, and utterly, completely alone with him.

This wasn't just a conforting dream; it was a sorta of re-education. Within the Tsukuyomi, he wouldn't exactly lie, but he'd reshape your perception by showing you the futility of fighting, the pain of independence and the endless cycle of suffering outside his perfect world. He'd be your only companion, your only source of truth, slowly eroding your memories of a life beyond his illusion.

Any flicker of doubt would be met with a gentle, almost paternal guidance back to the blissful ignorance he provided. He was your protector, after all.

As we know, he has lost so much because of the wickedness of those who populate the world, and he doesn't want the same to happen to you. You have to understand, he's very scared that someone will notice his attachment to you and perhaps decide to present him with an ultimatum... maybe, one similar to the one he was given when they discovered how much he cared about Sasuke.

For this reasons and more, he wouldn't call it imprisonment: he'd call it salvation, the ultimate act of love from a man who understood suffering.

He was more than ready to bore the burden of your isolation, believing it a small price for your eternal peace. And besides, the loneliness you felt wasn't something he couldn't fix... for example you could have lots of children, they'll keep you company.

But at the end of the day you have the freedom to do whatever you like! It doesn't matter if it's drawing, composing music, or simply working. The point is, you can do it! and you won't even notice any difference from the real world.

If it weren't for the fact that...well, people don't really talk to you. It's almost as if they've been set up NOT to make you feel like they're your friends, but you couldn't bet your life on that.

Or maybe yes... you see, if you don't realize anything and believe you're still living in the real world, it's truly for the best. But what if you were to understand what happened?

Talking to him about it is...an option, sure. As long as you don't make him repeat his explanation more than once and simply...accept it with a smile, or at least pretend to.

I mean, if you don't accept the thing right away nothing will happen. After all he doesn't want to become like the people he wants to protect you from, so he'll try to be very patient with you but obviously there's a limit. And the sooner you understand it, the better is it.

But if you don't understand how to behave well despite the passage of time, there is no problem. It just means that the illusion might begin to subtly shift...the vibrant colors would dull, the comforting sounds would become distorted, and the perfect peace would be replaced by a creeping sense of unease.

He would just look at you remaining apparently calm,while the world around you would slowly start to reflect your defiance. A beautiful garden might wither, a beloved pet might fall ill, or a cherished memory might twist into something painful. He wouldn't directly punish you; the illusion would do it for him, a constant psychological pressure until you broke and sought his guidance once more. He would simply watch as a silent presence, waiting for you to understand that your suffering was a direct consequence of your own stubbornness.

The worst experience with him would probably be the soul crushing realization of your own helplessness. If you ever really disappoint him,he could perhaps allow you a brief tantalizing glimpse of the real world,just enough to ignite a desperate hope. Then, he would snatch it away plunging you back into his illusion, maybe making you relive that moment of hope, that brief taste of reality, over and over, until the hope itself became a torment. He would detachedly watch; his eyes filled with a quiet understanding, as if he truly believed he was saving you from a greater pain.

Your purpose in his eyes, is to exist as the singular proof that his sacrifices were not in vain. You are the one he saved and protected, the one who truly understands the depth of his burden. He practically sees you as a precious flower cultivated in the sterile environment of his illusion, safe from the harsh winds of reality.

Let's be honest...stockholm syndrome is inevitably going to knock on your door, and when it happens it's safe to say he would deeply cherish your dependence and your reliance on him, ensuring that every aspect of your being (from your deepest fears to your most fleeting joys) was filtered through his perception, or in others words controlled by his will.

_ _ _

Being a low-class Saiyan warrior, Bardock was always a creature of instinct and battle: His existence was a brutal cycle of conquest and survival, a reality that forged him into what seemed to be a pragmatic and ruthless fighter. He possessed the classical raw power and a deep seated pride in his Saiyan heritage, often viewing others with a cynical, battle hardened gaze.

Yet, beneath this gruff exterior, a primal protectiveness simmered, a trait that when directed towards his chosen mate, could ignite into an all consuming emotion.

He had found his equal in you, a warrior as fierce and independent as himself, whose strength he admired and whose presence became an unexpected anchor in his chaotic life. He saw you not just as a partner, but as an extension of his own power, a vital component of his personal dominion. Your prowess in battle was a source of immense pride for him, a testament to the raw Saiyan spirit he cherished so much.

He would often observe you from a distance acting as a silent sentinel, ensuring no one dared to compromise your safety. This possessiveness, initially a subtle undercurrent, began to deepen with every shared victory and every close call.

He had always been wary, a trait honed by years of galactic warfare and the constant threat of betrayal, but your presence amplified this vigilance to an obsessive degree: he began to perceive threats everywhere, even in the most innocuous interactions,his mind constantly cataloging potential dangers to you.

Your strength, while admirable, was a double-edged sword; it meant you would inevitably face formidable foes, and the thought of you being harmed was a torment he could barely endure. The universe was a dangerous place, and he deeply wanted to be the only one safeguarding you

His paranoia, a simmering ember, was fanned into a raging series of thoughts the day you returned from a mission battered and bruised, the results of a battle fought against an enemy that had pushed you to your limits.

The sight of your injuries, even if they were temporary, ignited a terrifying possessiveness within him. His usual gruff demeanor dissolved into a calculating fury: he meticulously interrogated you about every detail of the encounter, not out of concern for your well-being, but to identify and eliminate any lingering threats. The idea that you could be hurt, and above all that he wasn't there to prevent it, was an unforgivable affront to his control and a stark reminder of his own perceived failure.

From that day forward, his protective instincts twisted into a suffocating obsession. He began to subtly, then overtly, restrict your movements, your missions, and your interactions with others. Every glance from another male Saiyan was met with a chilling glare, every conversation with a rival warrior was scrutinized with an intensity that bordered on intimidation. He would follow you, again, not to spy but to ensure your safety, to be a silent guardian against a world he perceived as constantly trying to snatch you away.

His actions were not born of malice, but of a profound, almost desperate need to keep you safe: to keep you his.

He slowly starts to see your independence as a vulnerability, a challenge to his ability to protect you. He believed he knows what it's best for you, that his judgment is superior, and that your defiance is merely a naive misunderstanding of the harsh realities of their existence. But don't worry,because he would ensure you never faced such danger again, even if it meant caging the very spirit he so admired.

He envisioned a life where your strength would be honed under his direct supervision, your battles chosen by him, and your victories celebrated only by the two of you. Your purpose, in his eyes, would become intrinsically linked to his own.

At this point he would begin to isolate you, subtly at first, by discouraging your usual battle partners or finding reasons for you to remain by his side.

Eventually, this would escalate to outright forbidding you from certain missions or engaging in fights he deemed too risky, regardless of your own capabilities or protests. Your world would slowly begin to shrink, centered entirely around him, his needs, and his suffocating desire to keep you safe.

He might even go as far as to eliminate perceived rivals or threats, not out of jealousy in the traditional sense, but rather as a logical step to secure his possession and prevent any future harm or distraction.

His love, once a typical fierce and unspoken bond, had morphed into a possessive grip forged from his own paranoia. He would protect you,nurture you,and keep you by his side, no matter the cost; for you were his and he would never let you go.

_ _ _

In the wake of his ascension to the absolute peak of power,Super Buuhan’s attention is not easily caught by anything mundane. Most life forms are merely ants to be crushed or snacks to be consumed. However, the reader catches his eye not through power, but through a peculiar defiance or a unique spark of personality that his newly acquired intellect finds "novel."

Perhaps it's a refusal to cower when he looms over a city, or a specific trait that reminds him of the humanity he absorbed but can never truly possess. Thanks to Gohan’s mind (and Piccolo’s patience) he doesn't kill you immediately because he is bored. He views you as a psychological experiment, a fragile thing to observe in the wreckage of the world he is systematically dismantling.

Once he decides to keep you, the horror of his mercy becomes apparent. He doesn't simply lock you in a cage; he reconstructs a reality around you using his matter manipulation and reality-warping abilities. He might create a beautiful,pristine version of a home you once knew amidst a wasteland, but the foundation of this gift is gruesome.

He turns entire towns of innocent victims into clay and putty, molding them into the shape of a house for you to live in. It's a functional layout: living room, kitchen, even bedrooms...but the victims inside the walls remain conscious.

You can sometimes see sweat drops on the walls, a silent yet horrifying reminder that your comfort is built upon the literal bodies of thousands. He presents this to you with Gohan’s soft-spoken mannerisms, expecting you to be grateful for the effort he spent providing for you.

As time progresses, his obsession takes on a more invasive and cerebral tone: because he has the memories and intellect of several people within him, he is an expert at reading your emotions and predicting your actions.

He finds it amusing to play at being a protector, shielding you from the very chaos he created, only to demand absolute gratitude in return.

He doesn't get jealous in the traditional sense because he doesn't believe anyone else is a threat, but he becomes lethal if he senses your mind wandering toward the memory of someone else. He wants to be the only thing in your universe: your provider, your tormentor and pretty much any figure you can think of.

Eventually, the isolation becomes absolute...he might even begin to (literally) incorporate things you love into himself, whether it's knowledge you possess or traits you admire in others, believing that by becoming everything you could ever want, he ensures you will never want to leave.

At the end of the day every kind gesture, from a conjured meal to the living house he built for you, is a tether designed to bind your spirit to his. In his mind, he isn't being cruel; he is elevating you to the status of the only other creature in existence worthy of his notice, and in his immense arrogance, he truly believes you should be honored by the nightmare he has built for you.

Talking about it,gifts from him are never simple. He might return from home with a piece of jewelry, presenting it to you with a proud, expectant smile. He watches your reaction with the intensity of a scientist, analyzing every micro-expression you do.

If you refuse the gift, he won't throw a tantrum; he will simply explain with chilling logic that the previous owner no longer has a use for it since they have been integrated into his power. He forces you to participate in the spoils of his genocide, making you feel like an accomplice to his crimes. This is a deliberate tactic to destroy your moral compass, ensuring that you eventually feel you have no choice but to stay with him, as the rest of humanity would only see you as a monster by association.

He expects a level of intellectual companionship that is impossible for a terrified human to provide, yet he demands it nonetheless. He expects you to engage in his conversations, to appreciate the order he is bringing to the universe, and to show a genuine interest in him and his power.

If you remain silent he views it as a personal insult to his intellect,a defect in his prize that he feels compelled to correct through increasingly intense psychological pressure.

When you fail to meet his expectations or show signs of rebellion, his punishments are (usually) never impulsive or messy; they are calculated lessons in helplessness. For example if you refuse to speak to him, he might use his power to turn the living walls of your room completely transparent so you are forced to watch the wasteland outside until you beg for the walls to return, or worse ,he could show you the faces of the people behind the clay.

He wants you to understand that every comfort you have,even your own senses, are a privilege granted by him.

And of course he will explain exactly why you are being punished, making it sound as though your suffering is a necessary part of your growth under his care.

The ultimate wrong thing you can do is attempt to escape or, worse, show affection for the memory of those he absorbed. Infact,if he catches you crying over someone he has absorbed, his reaction is a chilling mix of jealousy and mockery. He punishes emotional defiance by forcing you to confront the literal source of your grief, making you touch the very parts of his body where he claims your loved ones are stored.

_ _ _

He'd observe you meticulously, trying to discern if your predictions are genuine or if you're simply an incredibly skilled manipulator. He wouldn't openly question you at first, preferring to gather data. If your predictions consistently prove accurate, especially in high-stakes situations, his suspicion would slowly morph into a grudging respect, and then a strategic interest. He'd see your ability as an invaluable asset, a powerful (and almost invincible) tool for planning and avoiding pitfalls.

He'd likely start incorporating your insights into his tactical decisions, though he'd never fully relinquish his own planning because he’s too proud for that. He'd be fascinated by the mechanics of your ability, perhaps even attempting to understand it from a medical or scientific perspective,though he'd keep these inquiries to himself.

What he doesn't know is that there's no scientific explanation at all: you simply come from a completely different universe, but it's not as if you can easily explain to him whats going on. However, if you actually tried to do it, I think that of the three of them he would definitely be the most reluctant to believe it... probably with some time he would, but the boy is too rational for this to be a quick process.

He'd also be wary of the implications of such a power, understanding that knowing the future could be a heavy burden and a dangerous secret. He might even, in his own gruff way, offer subtle advice on how to manage it, or at least how to keep it under wraps from those who would exploit it.

Portgas Ace

Ace would be utterly bewildered and amused by your future sight. His first encounter with your predictions would likely involve you saving him from a minor, self-inflicted mishap (maybe something related to his narcolepsy) leading to a loud laugh and a scratch of his head.

He'd find your alleged ability incredibly cool and convenient, often asking for hints about where the next big adventure or delicious meal might be. He wouldn't dwell too much on the philosophical implications of knowing the future; for Ace, it would just be another amazing, slightly inexplicable part of the world.

He'd trust you implicitly once he saw your predictions consistently come true, and as your bond increases he'd become fiercely protective of you,because even if as i already said he almost never talks about it with you, he still knows your "ability" makes you a target.

He'd probably try to use your predictions to pull off daring stunts or avoid unnecessary fights (thats depends who we are talking about...) though his inherent recklessness might still lead him into trouble. He'd be genuinely curious about your past,especially the concept of being from another world (if you ever talk about this with him), and he would probably share stories of his own adventures in return.

Shanks

The observant Yonko would likely be the most accepting and least surprised by your abilities. He's seen enough of the world's wonders and oddities to take a future-predicting, strong individual in stride. His initial reaction would be a knowing smile and an invitation to share a drink (which will quickly become MANY drinks lol).

He wouldn't press you for details or try to exploit your power. Instead, he'd be genuinely interested in your perspective,seeing your "predictions" as another fascinating aspect of your personality. He'd appreciate your strength and your foresight, but he'd also subtly encourage you to live in the present:to enjoy the journey rather than constantly focusing on what's to come.

He'd surely value your input,especially in matters concerning the safety of his crew or the larger political landscape, but he'd never rely solely on your predictions, always trusting his own instincts and the spirit of adventure first. If you ever decided to tell him about your true origins he would believe you relatively quickly, the man can tell when someone is lying, and you don't.

He'd see the potential burden of your power and would likely offer a listening ear and a steady presence, reminding you that even with foresight life is meant to be lived spontaneously and joyfully... In fact,he'd be the one to remind you that some futures are meant to be changed while others to be embraced, and that the true strength lies in how you navigate them. Useless to say,but when he talks to you like this it's highly likely that he's drunk. Don't worry though, he really means what he says as he is still relatively lucid.

_ _ _

If you share his bottomless appetite and lack of social filter, Goku is the first one to drag you to a buffet. He loves having someone who does not scold him for eating too much or acting inappropriately at formal events (unlike Chi-Chi or Bulma). Instead, the two of you are usually found vibing in the background of Capsule Corp parties, completely ignoring the conversation in favor of inhaling mountains of food.

When it comes to training,he is SO excited. Most people in his life either tolerate his obsession with fighting or actively try to stop him, so having you constantly asking "Hey, want to spar?" is a dream come true. He doesn't hold back that much with you because he knows you share his thrill for battle. You understand his need to push past limits,and he respects yours.

However, your shared recklessness means that Piccolo or Vegeta often have to step in and yell at both of you when your sparring matches threaten to destroy the surrounding landscape. Goku just laughs it off, rubbing the back of his neck, and you probably do the same.

Vegeta

To be honest Vegeta is initially extremely irritated by you, primarily because you reflect the exact traits he tries to project: unyielding pride, a blunt tongue, and a refusal to back down from a challenge. When you walk into the room with that same haughty energy, his first instinct is to show you that no matter what you think,he is better than you

Your dynamic starts off entirely as a rivalry. If you make a blunt comment, he immediately fires one back. He respects your pride, but he will never admit it out loud. Instead, he shows his respect by treating you as a genuine equal in training. He pushes you to your absolute breaking point in the Gravity Room, and when you refuse to yield,just as he would,he feels a surge of begrudging admiration. You are one of the few people he actually listens to,simply because your bluntness cuts through the noise, and he appreciates someone who does not sugarcoat things.

As you spend more time together, that shared stubbornness turns into a unique bond:you both have a tendency to hide your softer emotions behind a wall of grumpiness (classic tsundere behavior lol) but when you do something genuinely kind or show vulnerability, he understands exactly how much effort it took for you to drop your guard, because he struggles with the exact same thing.

He will never be overly affectionate in public,but he will stand shoulder to shoulder with you,crossing his arms and smirking when you put someone else in their place. To Vegeta, having you around is somehow infuriating,challenging, and deeply comforting all at once.

Gohan

Gohan is incredibly relieved to meet you. Meeting someone who shares his academic passions and calm demeanor is a breath of fresh air for him, especially in a universe filled with space tyrants and monsters who try to conquer the planet every 3 months.

Your relationship is built on quiet and domestic comfort. He loves sitting in the same room with you, surrounded by stacks of books and research papers, just enjoying the comfortable silence. He finally has someone he can excitedly talk to about his academic findings without their eyes glazing over (like Goku's do). You understand his desire to live a normal life, and he appreciates that you never pressure him to train or fight when he doesn't want to.

However,in this case you also share his hidden depths. Gohan is notoriously terrifying when his loved ones are threatened, possessing a deep yet dormant power that surfaces when he is pushed too far. He recognizes that same protective instinct in you. If a threat arises and you drop your gentle demeanor to step up and fight,he is both amazed and slightly intimidated. It creates a deep mutual understanding between you two: you both prefer peace, but you are absolutely willing to throw hands if someone threatens the people you care about. Gohan feels entirely safe with you, knowing that you are the perfect balance of a brilliant mind and a protective heart.

Piccolo

The stoic and pragmatic namekian would initially observe you with an almost suspicious eye. It doesn't really matter which version of him you're thinking of,because he always remains the strategic mind of the Z-Fighters, often acting as a mentor and guardian,particularly to Gohan and Pan. When he encounters someone who perfectly mirrors his behavior he finds himself in an unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome, situation.

Your interactions with Piccolo would be characterized by efficient communication and unspoken understanding. There would be no need for frivolous small talk; you both appreciate directness and honesty. If you share his strategic mind, he might find himself consulting you on battle plans, valuing your objective insights.

He would also appreciate that you don't shy away from difficult truths, much like himself. And he might even find a strange comfort in your shared silence,because you both know that if you have nothing to say, it's more valuable to remain silent.

However, it's your shared protective instinct that would truly forge a bond. Piccolo's gruff exterior hides a profound loyalty to those he cares about. When he sees you display the same fierce resolve to defend others,especially the innocent,he recognizes a kind spirit in you. Since he's not the best at it he might not express it verbally, but his actions would show his respect and trust. He would implicitly rely on you in a crisis, knowing you would act decisively and selflessly. While he might never openly admit it,having someone as equally composed and reliable as you by his side would be a quiet reassurance in a chaotic universe.

Lord Beerus

Well...that's going to be a very particular match.

He is a being of immense power,characterized by unpredictable moods,an insatiable appetite,and a certain capriciousness that often comes out...Is it bad? Well, imagine having two.

When he encounters somebody who embodies his own traits, his reaction would be a mix of amusement, intrigue, and perhaps a touch of annoyance at having his own quirks reflected back at him. Initially,Beerus might find your similar temperament either entertaining or mildly irritating (it's probably gonna be the second one).

But with time,if you share his penchant for napping at inconvenient times or demanding the finest culinary delights,he might see you as a fellow connoisseur. He would certainly appreciate your discerning palate and might even begrudgingly share his favorite dishes with you, or at least tolerate your presence while he eats. Your shared capriciousness means that you both might switch moods on a dime,leading to unpredictable but never dull interactions.

However, it's your shared power and underlying sense of self-importance that would truly capture his attention. Beerus respects strength above all else. If you possess a similar aura of effortless power (don't ask me how) and a tendency to get your way, he would acknowledge you almost as an equal.

He might challenge you to petty contests, not necessarily of strength, but perhaps of who can find the best dessert or who can sleep longer.

While he would never admit to being fond of anyone,your presence would add an interesting dynamic to his otherwise routine existence of destroying planets and eating. He might even find himself subtly protecting you, not out of affection, but because you are a unique individual who strangely kinda of understands him.

Future Trunks

When he meets a reader who shares his core traits, he would feel an immediate, profound connection and a sense of understanding he rarely experiences

Your presence would be a source of quiet comfort and strength for him. He would appreciate your earnestness and your genuine desire to help,as it mirrors his own. If you share his resilience, he would see in you someone who understands the struggles of enduring hardship and fighting for a better future.

He would find solace in discussing his fears and hopes with you, knowing you would listen with the same empathy and seriousness he offers to others. You would be one of the few people who truly grasps the depth of his experiences without needing extensive explanations.

Romantically, this shared understanding would be crazy. He would be drawn to your inner strength and your compassionate heart,feeling safe and understood in your presence, a feeling that is rare for him. He would cherish your gentle nature, but also respect your unwavering resolve when faced with adversity. Your shared empathy would actually mean you both instinctively know how to support each other, perfectly offering quiet reassurance or a fierce defense when needed. He would never see you just as a companion, but as a fellow survivor and a beacon of hope, someone who truly understands the silent battles he fights every day and is actively involved in helping him fight them.

Android 17

Here we are talking about his DBS version,where he has evolved significantly from his villainous past. He is now characterized by his calm demeanor,fierce independence,and above all deep commitment to protecting nature:consequently, he values so much his freedom and the quiet life he has built as a park ranger.

Your interactions with Android 17 would be understated and respectful. He would appreciate your calm and collected nature,finding it a refreshing contrast to the often chaotic personalities around him. If you share his love for independence,he would respect your space and expect the same in return. There would be no need for grand gestures; in fact quiet companionship and mutual understanding would be the foundation of your bond. He might find himself enjoying your company on his patrols, appreciating your shared observations of nature.

His protectiveness, now extended to the wildlife and those who he considers family, would resonate with your own. If you demonstrate a similar dedication to a cause or to protecting those weaker than yourself, he would acknowledge it with a nod of approval. He's not one for effusive praise, but his actions would speak volumes. He might subtly ensure your safety, or offer practical assistance without being asked.

He would see you as someone who understands the importance of living life on your own terms, finding purpose in quiet dedication, and standing firm in your convictions. In you,Android 17 would find a rare individual who truly understands his unique perspective on life and his chosen path.

Broly

In his DBS version he is kind of a gentle giant at heart,shy and socially awkward,BUT very prone to emotional outbursts when pushed too far. His immense power is often a burden, and he actively struggles with controlling it. When he encounters a reader who mirrors these traits he would find an unspoken understanding,but at the same time he would get very confused.

Initially Broly would be drawn to your quiet presence,after all he’s not used to people who don’t demand things from him or try to exploit his strength. Your shared shyness would create a comfortable silence between you, a space where neither of you feels pressured to either perform or conform. He would observe you from a distance, perhaps offering small,hesitant gestures of kindness like sharing a piece of fruit or sitting near you during a quiet moment. He would really appreciate your gentle nature, as it reminds him of Cheelai and Lemo, the few people who have shown him genuine compassion.

However, it’s your shared latent power and emotional volatility that would truly connect you. Broly knows the terror of losing control,of having immense power surge through you driven by deep-seated emotions. When he witnesses your own power manifest, perhaps in a moment of intense stress or anger, he wouldn’t be afraid. Instead, he would feel a profound empathy. He would instinctively understand the struggle, the fear, and the raw emotion behind it. This shared experience would forge a unique bond, one built on mutual understanding and a silent promise to help each other navigate the complexities of their overwhelming emotions. He would become fiercely protective of you, seeing you as someone who truly understands his inner turmoil, and in turn, he would trust you implicitly with his own fragile peace.

Frieza

What can we say...he remains the epitome of aristocratic malice,cunning intelligence,and ruthless ambition. He is elegant, enjoys psychological torment, and views most beings as beneath him, existing only to serve his whims or be destroyed. (Here again,If that seems bad to you, imagine two of them.)

When he encounters a reader who possesses these same refined,manipulative,and power hungry traits, his reaction would be one of intrigued amusement, seeing a potential ally or a fascinating rival.

Frieza would initially be captivated by your similar demeanor. Your elegant posture,your sharp wit, and your ability to subtly manipulate situations would not go unnoticed. He would appreciate your refined tastes and your disdain for the crude and uncultured. Conversations with you would be a delightful game of chess,each of you testing the other’s intellect and resolve. He would also enjoy your sarcastic remarks and your ability to cut others down with a well placed word, mirroring his own verbal cruelty.

Your shared ambition and ruthlessness would be the foundation of a dangerous yet compelling relationship. Frieza respects power and those who are willing to do whatever it takes to achieve it. If you demonstrate a similar drive for dominance and a lack of moral compunction,he would see you as a kindred spirit. He might even offer you a position within his ranks,not out of genuine camaraderie, but because he recognizes your utility and the entertainment you provide.

He would enjoy watching you navigate political landscapes or crush opponents,finding a perverse satisfaction in your shared capacity for evil. While trust would always be a precarious concept with Frieza, he would afford you a unique level of respect, acknowledging you as one of the very few who truly understands the exquisite pleasure of absolute power and the art of its acquisition.

Goku Black

This man is defined by his extreme narcissism, his zealous belief in his own divine justice, and his appreciation for aesthetic perfection, particularly in his own power and form. He views mortals as a blight and himself as a god destined to purify the universe. When he encounters a reader who shares this profound sense of self-importance, a fervent belief in their own righteous cause, and an appreciation for elegance and power, he would see not just a reflection, but perhaps a worthy disciple or even a divine counterpart.

Black would be immediately drawn to your aura of superiority and your unwavering conviction. He would find your self-assuredness and your disdain for the mundane aspects of mortal existence to be refreshing. Conversations with him would quickly turn philosophical, revolving around concepts of justice,beauty,and the inherent flaws of mortal beings. He would appreciate your eloquent arguments and your ability to articulate a vision of a purified world, echoing his own grandiose ideals. He might even find your presence aesthetically pleasing,seeing a sorta of reflection of the divine beauty he believes he perfecty embodies.

Your shared zealotry and narcissistic tendencies would surely create an intense dynamic... Black would see in you someone who truly understands his divine mission and the necessity of his brutal actions. He would revel in your shared belief that you are both destined for greatness,perhaps even to reshape the cosmos.

He will train with you,not to make you stronger than him, but to refine your power and ensure it aligns with his vision of perfection. He would enjoy your admiration, but also respect your own self-admiration, seeing it as a sign of your divine nature.

If we're being honest, you're very unlikely to be a mortal in this, so you're better off being a kai or some sort of deity...after all he's looking for a reflection of his own godhood and a companion in his glorious crusade. (yeah you're basically taking zamasu's place😭)

_ _ _

___

•Frieza spent what felt like an eternity wrapped in that insufferable rosy cocoon in Earth's Hell,forced to endure the agonizingly cheerful parades of plush angels and dancing stuffed animals. I believe we can say he didn’t exactly had the time of his life...

•So when Goku suddenly dropped out of the sky with the offer for the Tournament of Power,Frieza’s mind immediately went into overdrive:seeing an opportunity, he played hard to get demanding a full resurrection as his price. He clearly didn't care about saving Universe 7, but if it could help bring him back to the old days...

•When Goku takes him to the meeting point where all the fighters were, he sees a series of familiar faces... however, there are also some who are not, and among them is a girl intent on reading a book, muttering things like "I better finish reading this quickly, after all, it might be my last chance."

•Finding her statement kind of funny, he begins to study her for a moment ,trying to get an estimate of how strong she might be.

• After a while he draws his (not so good) conclusions: she is missing that loud energy that screams and cracks the pavement just for the sake of making a scene: her power appears to be compressed yet terrifyingly dense. Frieza freezes mid-stride,his tail stopping a millimeter from the floor: He has absolutely no idea what species she is,but her lack of a visible aura makes the density of her power look incredibly dangerous.

•Then she speaks. She calls Goku "dad" with the exact same casual indifference someone would use to comment on the weather. And Frieza’s brain completely short-circuits.

•Frieza’s tail literally stops dead mid-twitch. His brain glitches. Dad? He looks at her and then at Goku, who is currently scratching the back of his head and grinning like an idiot. "Dad?" Frieza repeats, the word tasting like absolute ash in his mouth. "You... you belong to him? The monkey who can barely articulate a sentence?" He genuinely thinks it's a trick, a psychological play to throw him off balance before the Tournament of Power. "Hey! I can articulate just fine, Frieza!" Goku protests in the background, completely missing the insult while still scratching the back of his head.

•But of course, him being Frieza doesn't stop there: He’d look directly at her,a mock-polite smile on his face. "Tell me, are you quite certain you weren't adopted?"

•He expects a typical saiyan reaction to his implication: a snarl,a spike in power,maybe a reckless swing. Instead, she just sighs, a completely dry sound that makes Frieza’s interest spike even higher. She looks at him like he’s a minor inconvenience, an annoying thing she has to tolerate for the sake of the universe.

•Even as he schemes, his brain is still violently rejecting the reality of her origins. He often finds himself looking from her disciplined stance to Goku, who was currently trying to explain to Bulma that he had lost his wallet and didn’t know how to tell Chichi.

•Frieza feels a profound sense of cosmic injustice, ​this situation genuinely offends his worldview. He built an entire empire on the objective truth that Saiyans were nothing but savages,and then she shows up and tries to prove him wrong? Insulting.

•Needless to say that he immediately starts planning how to separate her from her father during the tournament, wanting to test the waters to see if that apparently brilliant mind of hers can be tilted toward his own ends.

•After all what better way to permanently break Goku’s spirit than to take his own flesh and blood and turn her into the crown jewel of the Frieza Force?

•He hates inefficiency. He hates that his current subordinates are mostly bumbling idiots who scream and fail him constantly. But she? She wouldn't. He remembers how strong sayans can be,and as a plus she also has intelligence on her part. Ideally he’d want her as a high-ranking executive, a brilliant commander who can organize his empire with the same geometric precision she uses to control her ki.

•During the tournament (after seeing her strength firsthand) he starts scheming. If she's logical,she can be reasoned with. Unlike Goku,who fights for fun, or Vegeta,who fights for pride, a logical person fights for results.

•​He steps closer,the halo glowing faintly above his head,and lets out that signature, high-pitched laugh. "Tell me...how does a brilliant mind like yours tolerate living in the shadow of such a primitive brute? If you ever find yourself craving a position suited for someone of your exceptional intellect...provided we survive this little cosmic game, of course, the Frieza Force is always in search of high-ranking executives. I assure you, the compensation would be... exquisite."

•Let's be honest, if she really captures his interest he spends half the tournament literally watching her fight,analyzing her techniques with a deeply predatory sense of pride.

•Whenever Goku gets himself into a reckless situation because of his battle lust, Frieza makes sure to stand right next to her and sigh dramatically. He also probably drops subtle poisonous remarks into her ear to test her loyalty.

•He deliberately creates scenarios to see how cold she can truly be. If a weakened opponent from another universe is clinging to the ring, Frieza might hold back and tell her to do the honors, watching her face closely. If she does it without hesitating, Frieza’s eyes light up with absolute glee: he sees it as proof that she’s meant for the Frieza Force.

•When things get desperate and the Pride Troopers corner them, Frieza loves the latent tension of acting like a protective mentor, even though it's 100% a manipulation tactic. If Dyspo tries to blitz her, Frieza intercepts with a malicious grin. "My, my... I simply cannot allow you to go damaging the future Commander-in-Chief of my army. She is far too valuable an asset to be handled so recklessly by an oversized rodent."

•When the tournament ends and he gets dragged back down to his insufferable prison of plush angels and dancing stuffed animals, his mind doesn't rest. He spends every second obsessing over how his priorities just changed. Before the tournament, his only goal was killing Goku. Now? His goal is corrupting Goku’s masterpiece.

_ _ _

Up on the imperial podium,Caracalla and Geta slouched on their purple cushions. Caracalla was mindlessly playing with one of his gold ring,snickering at something Macrinus had whispered in his ear, while Geta watched the arena with a bored, heavy lidded expression, waiting for the predetermined execution to be over.

They were so sure of her end that they hadn't even given her a proper weapon to defend herself. She tilted her head back, staring straight up at the imperial box, her voice cutting through the ambient roar of the stands with absolute clarity, knowing that at this point she had nothing left to lose: "At least a sword,Augusti. Or is your Achilles afraid to lose?"

​A split second of dead silence hit the stadium, and then the imperial box erupted into laughter. Caracalla leaned so far over the marble railing he nearly lost his footing, pointing a finger down at her while shaking with hysterical amusement: "Give her one! Give her a gladius! Did you hear the nerve on this girl? Let her play her part properly,she’ll bleed much better with steel in her hand!" Geta offered a dry,amused smirk,nodding to the attendants to let the farce play out. Everyone in the arena was certain she would lose within seconds, sword or no sword. None of them, of course, knew that her father had trained her in the blade since she was a child, wanting to make sure she knew how to defend herself.

​The crowd roared as the gate slid open and the veteran gladiator chosen to play Achilles strode out. He was encased in heavy body armor, but his head was completely bare. The master of the games had purposefully left him without a helmet; according to the poetry,Achilles had to look upon Penthesilea’s face the moment she died, and a massive bronze helmet would have ruined the theatrical visibility for the emperors and the senators. He moved in for the scripted, brutal kill, swinging his massive blade in a lethal arc meant to shatter her guard and end the myth instantly.

The sharp,metallic ring of iron against iron echoed through the stadium: she had parried it. She hadn't moved an inch from her stance, legs firmly planted in the sand, her eyes locked onto the man's face. The fake Achilles lunged again, furious that his easy target was resisting, but she dodged, stepped into his blind spot, and deflected the heavy blade with effortless timing. The predetermined death everyone had gathered to watch was turning into a real clash where the outcome no longer seemed so certain.

​Up on the royal box, the amusement vanished instantly. Geta’s bored smirk froze on his face, his entire body stiffening as he leaned forward, his sharp eyes suddenly tracking her every movement. Caracalla stopped laughing entirely; his jaw slackened,his unblinking eyes following the rhythmic snaps of her blade against the veteran's one. The Colosseum was falling into a stunned silence.

Then,she suddenly shifted from defense to absolute offense.

​It happened in a single, blinding flash. A lightning fast feint to the champion's ribs made him drop his guard, and with a fluid rotation of her hips, she swung her blade in a clean yet unforgiving arc. Because the director’s theatrical vanity had left the gladiator’s neck completely exposed without a helmet’s guard,the steel sliced through his bare flesh with terrifying efficiency.

The head of Rome's Achilles was severed from his shoulders,hitting the sand a second before his massive body collapsed into the dirt,kicking up a cloud of dust. She had completely broken the myth and she knew it.

​An eerie, lifeless silence fell over the fifty thousand spectators. She looked down at the decapitated body, observing it for a few silent seconds with a certain detachment. She crouched down slightly over the fallen champion and with an enraged tone whispered: "It seems I was Achilles after all." Then, she picked up the head by its bloody hair. Spinning slowly on her heels to face every tier of the amphitheater.

"You wanted entertainment?" her voice rang out, sharp, ironic, and completely devoid of fear. "There you go! I believe a plot twist is always pleasant!" she shouted, hoping to be heard by as many people as possible.

Then, with a sudden flick of her wrist, she tossed the heavy head back onto the sand and began rubbing her hands together, wrinkling her nose in an expression of theatrical yet genuine disgust.

The stadium exploded into absolute madness. Plebeians screamed her name, patricians waved their togas from the balustrades, and soldiers beat their fists against their shields. Yet, among the roar, a few traditionalist senators and elite citizens in the lower tiers murmured in bitter disappointment, scowling and crossing their arms. They were purists of the theater, annoyed that this arrogant girl had ruined a classic Homeric tragedy, robbing them of the somber ending they wanted to see.

But their whispers were drowned out by the imperial podium. Caracalla was practically climbing over the marble perimeter, his face flushed with a manic and feverish excitement as he clapped frantically like a child with a new toy, "Did you see that?! Geta, did you see what she just did?! She rewrote the poets! She cut his head off and then wiped her hands! She is magnificent!"

Geta stood up slowly beside him, his composure shattered but his cynical mind working fast. His immediate political instinct was to order the praetorians to cut her down on the spot; after all she had openly defied an imperial execution, subverting Rome's sacred myths. Allowing her to live was a dangerous precedent. And yet, as he stared down at her standing calmly in her blood splattered dress,a very small, subtle part of him was deeply intrigued by her sheer audacity.

More importantly, Geta looked at his brother, who was currently shouting and cheering for her like a madman. Geta knew that if he ordered her death right now, Caracalla would throw a violent, public tantrum, protesting his decision in front of fifty thousand citizens. He wanted to avoid a massive conflict at all costs; showing the crowd any sign of division or weakness between the co-emperors was political suicide.

​Suppressing his irritation, Geta forced a cold smile onto his face and nodded toward the arena,silently acknowledging that this girl had just won the first round of a much more dangerous game.

Caracalla suddenly grabbed Macrinus by the sleeve, pulling him down with a feverish giggle, his eyes wide and completely unblinking as he stared at the sand. "Macrinus. Did you see? She changed the ending. The poets lied, Achilles is dead!" His voice abruptly dropped into a flat, chilling whisper,his fingers twitching against the marble railing. "I want her. Wash the blood off her. Put her in my wing. If anyone else touches her, I’ll have their skin."

Macrinus didn't even blink,his face a mask of bureaucratic calm as he glanced down at the girl...he just saw a new toy to keep him occupied. "The crowd expects her to stay in the ludus, Caesar."

"The crowd will watch what I tell them to watch!" Caracalla snapped, his head jerking sideways as his voice cracked into a sharp, infantile hiss. "She’s mine. Move her."

Geta didn't turn his head, keeping his chin resting on his hand,his profile tight with aristocratic disgust. "She just slaughtered our best asset and mocked the imperial box, Caracalla. Do you really think such a dangerous mind belongs in your bed, rather than under a headsman's axe?" He finally shifted his gaze down toward the arena,his eyes narrowing as he studied the girl's posture among the blood. A cold,slow smile crept onto his lips. "And yet...one must wonder what else that sharp tongue of hers can do besides rewrite Homer. Don't you agree?"

Caracalla’s smile vanished instantly, his face turning an ugly, blotchy red. He violently yanked his hands away from the marble railing,his breathing turning ragged as he stared at his brother with paranoid venom.

"No! No,you don't!" Caracalla shrieked, his voice cracking into a high-pitched, desperate defensive stance. "You always do this! Every time I find something beautiful, every time I find a new toy, you try to put your filthy hands on it! Nothing is ever just mine!"

He lunged slightly closer to Geta,his fingers clawing at the air between them,his eyes wide and trembling with manic fury. "She is mine, Geta! Mine! I saw her first! If you look at her again with that disgusting smile, I will have the praetorians tear your eyes out of your skull!"

Geta didn't flinch,though his eyes darkened into two chips of black obsidian. Slowly, he raised a silk handkerchief to dab away a stray fleck of his brother’s spit from his cheek. He did not yell back; instead, he leaned just an inch closer, his voice dropping into a velvet purr that was entirely for Caracalla’s ears.

"Be careful, brother" Geta whispered, a mocking sharpness beneath his calm exterior. "The crowd is watching. Keep screaming like a coddled child, and you will lose the throne before you even touch her."

Caracalla’s jaw went slack,his manic tirade dying in his throat as his brother’s warning struck the deepest nerve of his paranoia. Yet, even as the fear chilled his blood,his wild eyes never left the arena floor. He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven as he began to mutter in a fragmented and disjointed sequence of words: a desperate, trembling chant meant only to comfort his own madness: "She is mine. She changed the ending,only for me. Tell them to clean her. Tell them to bring her to me."

_ _ _

​The house on the Aventine Hill had become a tomb long before the physician finally shook his head. It started with a dry cough, then the fever, and within months the disease had taken your husband, leaving you a widow in a home that smelled only of sickness, regret, and stagnant grief. You couldn’t stay there,you couldn’t look at the sunny courtyard without seeing his ghost coughing blood into the fountain, and the sorrow didn't just make you weep:it unraveled you. It was Lucilla who saved you. She had always kept a quiet yet protective eye on you, bound by a secret ,lingering history with your brother Maximus that neither of them ever spoke aloud. And when word of your situation reached her,she didn't wait for imperial permission or anything distantly similar. She brought you straight into her own apartments at the Palatine palace,offering you a sanctuary where you could mourn away from the whispers of the city.

For months, you were just a silent fixture at the edge of the court, a ghost in a black stola moving through the marble corridors, but you were never invisible to Commodus.

At first, it was nothing but a cold, simmering astio...a resentment so thick it choked the air whenever you crossed paths. Before the court was ordered to move north to join the Emperor’s winter camp in Germania,Marcus Aurelius's letters would arrive in Rome, and Lucilla would read them aloud. Every scroll praised the brilliant campaigns of General Maximus, declaring how the gods favored him and how Rome owed him its survival. Commodus would listen, his knuckles turning white around his goblet, his eyes burning with the humiliation of a son left behind in the capital, and the very first thing he would do was look across the room and fix his gaze on you. You had Maximus’s blood. You had that same quiet, infuriatingly stoic dignity that made Commodus feel small, and he despised you for it, treating you with a cruel, almost mocking frostiness.

The breaking point came when the decree arrived: Commodus and Lucilla were to travel to Germania to join the Emperor for the final phase of the war.

​You went to Lucilla practically on your knees, begging to go with them. Maximus was the only family you had left, the only person who could tether you back to the living world after your husband’s death. So if you wanted something at that moment it was certainly to be able to see him again, and you also secretely thought about going to stay with your little nephew for a while,after all you were sure that Maximus would be in favor of this. Lucilla wanted to grant it, but Commodus intervened. The memory of that night was etched into the marble of the palace gardens. You had intercepted him near the statue of Apollo, trying to plead your case, but he had only laughed:a sharp, ugly sound that lacked any real mirth.

​"The northern front is no place for a weeping widow, Y/N." he sneered, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating from his chest ​"Or perhaps you just want to run to the golden boy? I don't know why...but it seems you're all quite taken with him." he says with a tight, breathless little laugh that doesn't reach his empty eyes.

​"He is my brother, Commodus" you shot back,your voice cracking with a raw, defensive anger that made him blink. You stepped closer, refusing to let him reduce your grief to court politics. "I do not care about your father’s legions,or whoever is taken by him. I have lost my husband. I am slowly drowning in this palace,and Maximus is the only piece of my blood left alive. Only him can help me heal from my wound...I just want my brother,you can not deny me that."

​You looked up at him, and for the first time, beneath his venom, you saw the sheer, pathetic agony in his face:the hollow, desperate hunger of a boy begging for crumbs of affection from a father who was never there. You recognized that shadow of neglect; it looked dangerously like your own empty home. Instead of pulling away, your anger dissolved into a sudden, heavy exhaustion. Hoping that being kind could lead to different results,you let out a soft yet fractured breath and reached out, your fingertips brushing his cold cheek.

​"I know that look,we are both haunted by men who aren't here." you whispered, your thumb catching the edge of his jaw. "You are losing a father to his endless wars, and I have lost a husband to the earth. Do not take my brother from me too."

​Commodus froze. His breath hitched completely, his body turning to stone under the touch of your bare hand. No one had ever touched him like this except his dear sister:you had touched his wound with absolute gentleness, linking your tragedy to his. For a long, suffocating moment, he didn't move, his eyes staring down into yours with a sudden, terrifying confusion that slowly morphed into something heavy and consuming. Then, slowly, he gripped your wrist, his fingers clamping down until his thumb pressed hard into your pulse.

​"A widow belongs in the shadows of the capital, not the mud of Germany." he commanded, his voice dropping into a low, breathless whisper as he stared at your lips. "You will remain in Rome. If Maximus wants to see his blood, he will have to survive the winter and come back to you."

He let go of your wrist with a sudden, jarring abruptness,as if your skin had burned him,and vanished back into the deep shadows of the colonnade. He left you alone in the dark, your heart hammering against your ribs with utter frustration. Later you were informed that Lucilla also tried to convince him,but for some reason it was of no use.

The months that followed crawled by in a suffocating,silent vacuum. While you were trapped on the Palatine, pacing the marble floors and waiting for any scrap of news,an horrific tragedy was unfolding thousands of miles away in the freezing mud of Germany:Marcus Aurelius was murdered,Maximus was condemned to death,and his family was slaughtered. But to you,the official ravens only brought the filtered, terrifying truth of the new regime: Emperor Marcus Aurelius is dead of natural causes. His son Commodus is now the sole ruler of Rome. General Maximus has proven a traitor and he was killed for it.

​You knew it was a lie, you knew your brother’s heart, but the sheer isolation of the palace felt like a chokehold. No letters came from Maximus. No whispers. Only the terrifying reality that your dear brother had been wiped from the face of the earth, leaving you entirely alone.

Apparently the grief did not want to abandon you,having become too attached to you:it once again hollowed you out until you felt like a ghost walking among the living. You would sit for hours on the cold floor of your chambers, your hands pressed against your chest as if you could physically hold your lungs from collapsing under the weight of it all. You had lost a husband to sickness,and now the gods had taken your brother too...it was too much to bear.

And then came the regret. Your mind kept dragging you straight back to that night in the palace gardens with Commodus. You replayed his words over and over;the cruel laugh combined at the way his fingers had bruised your wrist when he told you to stay in Rome. You couldn't help but think about different possible endings. What if you had begged harder? What if you had just defied his orders, stolen a horse, and ridden north anyway? Maybe you could have just seen him one last time,hugged him,and told him you loved him before everything shattered. Instead, you had let Commodus leave you behind, and that choice felt like a betrayal of your own blood.

​When Commodus finally returned to Rome,he didn't return as the neglected prince he was before Germany. He entered the city in a blinding display of triumph, riding a white chariot through streets packed with citizens who cheered out of sheer terror, his sister Lucilla seated beside him with a face like carved ice.

​That same night, the great hall of the Palatine was suffocatingly crowded. You stood near the back pillars,your black mourning stola bleeding into the shadows,your heart hammering against your ribs as the massive iron doors flew open. Commodus entered, flanked by his towering Praetorians, the purple imperial robes sweeping the floor behind him. He dismissed the greeting senators with a careless wave of his hand,ignoring the court officials completely as his eyes swept the cavernous room, searching, until they locked instantly onto you.

​He didn't hesitate. He strode straight through the sea of whispering patricians,the crowd parting before his armor like water, until he stopped so close you could smell the dust of the northern roads and the metallic tang of iron on him. He didn't speak. He just reached out:his fingers slowly catching your chin,forcing your head back until you had no choice but to look up into his dangerously erratic eyes.

​"Your brother was a traitor,Y/N" he whispered, his voice dangerously low, cutting through the breathless silence of the hall like a razor, "And...he got what traitors deserve. But you didn't leave,you stayed." His grip tightened involuntarily as his gaze traced your features,realizing the absolute power he now held over Maximus's own flesh and blood:this was his redemption. Maximus's sister would love and revere him,proving to the world and to his father's ghost,that he,the new Caesar, was worth so much more than the man who had stolen everything from him. "So,tell me you are glad your emperor is home. Give me your loyalty."

_ _ _

Eustass Kid

Since you both have that same obsessive need to be the strongest person in the room,that's genuinely a never ending power struggle. Let's just say that if you destroy a building,he levels a city block...it's an endless war.

"Don't get in my way,I'm the one who's taking his head!" he snarls,his mechanical arm whirring with lethal intent.

"Try and stop me,Eustass! I'll have him begging for mercy before you even finish your next sentence!" you bark back,already lunging into the fray. You don't fight together,you fight against the world to see who comes out on top.

Both of you are like walking landmines. You share that short,explosive fuse that makes the air vibrate with tension. If someone breathes the wrong way,you both react with the same unfiltered aggression.

"What did you just say to me?" you hiss,the temperature in the room dropping as your eyes narrow.

"He didn't say anything,because I'm about to rip his tongue out" Kid growls,stepping up beside you,both of you radiating the exact same murderous aura. It’s terrifying for everyone else,but for the two of you,it’s the only way you know how to communicate.

You both possess a terrifyingly sense of justice:if someone takes something from you,you take everything from them. There is no forgiveness,only a brutal payback.

"They tried to touch the ship...I think we should take their flag and their captain's right hand" you say,your voice flat and cold as you stare at the horizon.

Kid doesn't even look at you,he just starts gathering every scrap of metal on the deck into a massive,spinning vortex. "Only the hand? You're getting soft. I'm taking the whole arm." You don't need to discuss the plan;you both just think that blood is the only acceptable currency.

Neither of you will ever admit to be soft. You usually both mask everything with a smirk and a challenge,but when things get quiet,you find yourselves sitting in the scrap heap,tinkering with metal in the exact same focused,aggressive silence.

"You're doing it wrong" he mutters,not even looking up from his work.

"I'm doing it my way,which is way better than yours" you snap,shoving a wrench into place with a loud clank. He doesn't get mad,though. He just lets out a short,distorted laugh. He’s found the only other person in the New World as stubborn as he is,and he’d die before letting anyone else have you...but he's never going to tell you,since he is probably not even truly aware of it.

Monkey D. Luffy

This is a match made in heaven (very cute if you ask) but a nightmare for the crew. If you are exactly like Luffy,the Sunny is basically a floating circus...there is no common sense between the two of you,only instinct and the next big adventure. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! THE CLOUD LOOKS LIKE MEAT!" he screams,pointing at the sky. "IT DOES! AND THAT ISLAND IS SHAPED LIKE A GIANT BEETLE!" you scream back,already climbing the mast.

You don't even need to talk to understand each other. It’s really all vibes. You’re both the type to excitedly jump off the ship before it even docks...the crew often finds the two of you sitting on the figurehead,sharing a single piece of giant ham (which Luffy obviously didn't want to share at first,it was only after your absurdly persistent insisting that he finally gave in), staring at the horizon with the exact same wide eyed wonder.

Since you both have a black hole istead of a stomach,dinner on the Sunny becomes very similar to a tactical war. It’s not just about eating,but rather about the speed. Sanji has to cook double portions just to keep the peace.

"Hey! That was my meat!" Luffy shouts,his arm stretching across the table.

"It's not if I take it first!" You’ve already swallowed it whole,reaching for his plate before he can even retract his hand. You don't even use forks half the time;just like him,you just use your hands and pure determination. The crew just watches in horror as the table is cleared in under thirty seconds.

Luffy is obsessed with anything cool or mysterious,and so are you. If Franky builds a new gadget,you both have stars in your eyes. If there’s a weird creature on an island,you’re both trying to poke it with a stick.

"Look! It’s a talking tree!" Luffy points,vibrating with excitement.

"Do you think it has a talking bird inside it too?!" You’re already running toward it,not a single questioning thought. You both have that golden retriever energy where curiosity always beats survival instincts.

The two of you also lack a filter between your brain and your mouth. If someone is being an idiot,you both say it. If a villain looks funny,you both laugh.

"You look very strange,you know?" you say to a random pirate who perhaps has a peculiar trait. "Right?! I was thinking the same thing!" Luffy beams at you,completely ignoring the fact that you’re both angering him. You share that dangerous yet blunt honesty that makes the average person horrified. You don't see rank or power;you only see people,and you treat everyone with the same reckless familiarity.

Sanji

If you are like him,you surely are just as much of a smooth talking flirt as he is. When you two go to a new island,it’s a race to see who can charm the locals first.

"My,you have the most enchanting eyes I’ve seen in this hemisphere" you say,leaning smoothly against a bar counter to charm a handsome stranger.

Sanji literally chokes on his smoke,rushing over to intervene. "Hey! Don't use my best lines on some random guy! Use them on me!" He’s torn between being deeply offended that you’re stealing his bit and being hopelessly attracted to the fact that you’re the most charming woman he’s ever met,at the end of the day you’re both hopeless romantics with zero shame. He’s used to being the only one doing the wooing,so seeing you do it makes him go into a tailspin of competitive gallantry.

The kitchen is a sacred space,and usually,it’s his domain alone. But with you,it’s like he has a second pair of hands that think exactly like his. You both share that almost fanatical obsession with perfection and the soul of a dish.

"The seasoning is a bit off" you mutter,your eyes sharp as you taste the sauce.

"I was just about to add the saffron,don't tell me my business!" he snaps,his hands moving in a blur as he corrects it before you can even reach for the spice. It’s a high speed environment where one wrong move ends up with you two arguing,but the meals you produce together are literally heavenly. The crew knows better than to enter the kitchen when you two are discussing recipes...

You find him in the galley at 3 am,secretly preparing a care package for some orphans you saw at the last port. He jumps,trying to hide the basket.

"I'm just...clearing out the leftovers" he mumbles,not looking at you.

"Shut up and move over. I already made the sandwiches" you respond,setting a tray down next to him. You both stand there in the moonlight,maybe smoking,sharing that same idiotic kindness that makes the crew love you,even if you’d both die before admitting you have a heart of gold.

_ _ _

Now,i know it might seem strange and it’s probably not even who you expected,but even though you two aren't 100% identical in every single way,I truly believe yours would be a perfect dynamic because the relationship would be perfectly balanced;your energy would perfectly complements his (apparently) stoic and grounded nature.

(⚠️Skip this point if you haven't watched Wano yet) Also,I’m not sure if you’ve finished the Wano arc yet,but that arc would be a turning point for you both because it represents the moment his deepest insecurities are forced to the surface,leaving him unable to hide them as he used to do in the past. I just know that your habit of noticing the small things would be the ultimate healing factor for him. While others might see his condition as a curse or something to pity,you would be the one to treat him with the same dignity as always. Even though his initial instinct would be to pull away or isolate himself,feeling that he is no longer the composed first mate he used to be,your kind persistence would eventually break through. Canonically,Killer is a man who deals with his pain in silence,and he’d likely expect you to be repulsed or exhausted by his new reality. It's only when he realizes you aren't staying out of pity,perhaps after seeing you genuinely laugh along with his laugh,treating it as something precious rather than a mistake. Or maybe after noticing that despite his being forced to laugh at every moment,you can ACTUALLY see past it and sense what he’s really feeling,that he will finally stop hiding his vulnerability. The moment he sees you responding to his hidden sadness or silent anger,even while his face is stuck in a smile,he’ll realize you aren't just looking at him:you’re observing him with the kind of undivided attention he unconsciously craves. It's exactly at this point that the way he treats you changes radically because you slowly become his emotional anchor. He knows that despite everything you're making a big effort to understand what he's really feeling,and he's really grateful for this. What he loves most is how being with you creates a space where his insecurity can’t survive because you’re too busy rambling about a fascinating new topic to care about his mask or his permanent smile.

Killer is a man of latent tension,constantly acting as the tether for a captain who is always an inch away from a breakdown. With you,he finally gets to let the guard down. He’d deeply value the way you notice the small things. While he’s used to being the one doing the acts of service for his crew,having you organize his life or bake something just for him would be the first time he feels truly taken care of.

Don't forget that killer is one of the most intelligent in that crew. He wouldn't just nod along because he would genuinely appreciate the knowledge you’re sharing. Since he is a man of few words,he would find your storytelling and learning process incredibly endearing. He’d be your biggest fan,quietly listening while you explain a new topic you just discovered. Imagine your evenings together:you explaining a fascinating new topic you just learned,and him actually engaging with it,offering intelligent observations or even finding rare books for you during his travels. It’s a deep mental connection that goes beyond the simple small talk you can easily have with everyone.

Your mellow days would be spent together in the kitchen. He is very precise and methodical,so he’d love helping you with the technical side of baking. Because (at least publically) he usually has to eat through the holes in his mask,he would deeply treasure the fact that you remember his preferences and make things that are easy for him to eat. (But also cook him the spaghetti he loves so much,PLEASE)

You also mentioned it takes you a long time to let people in and that you are reserved around strangers,and well...Killer is almost the definition of reserved,he wears a literal mask and guards his heart just as much as you do. He would never rush you. There would be a mutual respect for each other’s boundaries,creating a sorta of slow burn romance where at first you dont even know that something it's starting to form between you two,but it's happening. Things would have a very calm yet respectful start,where you two simply enjoy being in the same room together without needing to speak.

As i said before,Killer is incredibly patient and actually values substance over noise. In a crew of loud,screaming pirates (tbh kid alone is enough),he would surely find your voice refreshing. Your spontaneous energy provides the life and color he lacks,while his calm presence provides a judgment free zone,where you can be as silly as you want without feeling embarrassed.

You like organizing things and doing unnoticed tasks? well,good luck...I imagine the Victoria Punk as a chaotic mess of scrap metal and EXTREMELY loud personalities. Your "unnoticed" tasks will be more than visible!

As an ambivert who is quiet around new people,large pirate banquets might be draining for you. Killer knows it,and luckily for you he's the master of stealth exits. He would notice the second your social battery hits zero before you even have to say it. He’d lean in and give you a subtle nod toward the door,or use a "captain’s errand" as an excuse to get you both out of there. He protects your peace because he values his own,and those quiet walks back to the ship would be your prime quality time.

Kid would eventually start teasing Killer about how soft he’s become,but it’s all bark and no bite. He actually respects you deeply because you're the only person who can keep Killer in a decent mood even when the world is going to hell. At first he would definitely be very protective of Killer,and would imagine the worst about your intentions...it will take A LOT of time for him to be sure that you don't have any bad intentions with his childhood friend,but when he's sure of it things change.

Still talking about kid,he would never say something sweet like "I'm happy for you guys" but he’d show it in his own way. He’d start "forgetting" to call Killer for chores when he knows you two are having quality time or sharing a meal. And if anyone,inside or outside the crew ever dared to speak poorly of you,Kid would just handle it with his usual level of violence.

After a while you're together,i can see killer kinda memorizing the vibe of your footsteps...even in the heat of a battle or a crowded port,he can pick out your stride from a mile away. If he senses even a slight hesitation in your step,his punishers are out before you can even realize there’s a threat. He doesn't just give you his undivided attention;he also gives you a sense of absolute security,ensuring that your spontaneous and at times silly soul never has to dim its light because of the world outside,he won't allow it.

Since you have that habit of overthinking and letting your thoughts spiral,you need a partner who doesn't just coldly tell you to stop,but who actually acts kinda as a tether to reality. Sabo is incredibly observant:whenever your thoughts start spiraling and you find yourself jumping to conclusions,he won't get defensive or loud;he’ll simply be quiet and honest,which are two of the things he values most. His honesty is his best trait;he knows you value the truth above all else so he’d never leave you in the dark,ensuring your mind doesn't have any blank spaces to fill with anxiety or doubts. If he really trust you,knowing that you tend to imagine the worst possible scenarios if he is vague,he'll tells you everything. Even the messy/unheroic parts of his job,just so you never have to guess whats going on.

There’s something really beautiful about how you both view the world too. You aren't just sitting around waiting for things to happen;you’re both actively working towards that ideal tomorrow. While he’s out there changing the political landscape,he’d deeply admire the way you care for your community on a personal level. You’d be his reminder of what he’s actually fighting for.

And if you are taller than average? he’d love that. He’s a guy who loves to lean in,resting his forehead against your shoulder after a long mission,finally letting his guard down because you’re one of the only few people he feels truly safe with.

The way you’re awkward but social would honestly be his favorite thing about you. He’s so naturally charismatic that he’d find your attempts to talk to strangers endearing,and when needed he’d seamlessly jump into the conversation to support you,he'll basically be your safety net.

Sabo is quite a disaster in the kitchen. But he’ll stay there just to talk to you,he’ll "help" by eating the chocolate chips or licking the spoon,but really,he’s there because he knows you use baking to stay occupied. He’ll try to keep the conversation flowing so your thoughts don't have room to wander off into dark corners.

Sabo understands that it takes you a while to get comfortable because he also keeps his personal life guarded,as an example his childhood is one of those things that I don't see him to explain in a casual way,you'll have to wait until he feels confortable enough. So in exchange,he’d wait for you for as long as it takes and once you finally let him in,that sacrifice everything kind of loyalty you have would be met with the exact same intensity from him. You’d end up being each other’s absolute priority.

The thing is that once you are in his inner circle he is unconditionally devoted to you. It’s not about being overprotective because he thinks you can't handle yourself,it's because he’s seen a lot of bad stuff out there,and he wouldn't want you to have to experience any of it firsthand. Sabo lived with the guilt of forgetting his brothers for years,and now that he remembers,his devotion to his loved ones is borderline terrifying. He’d see that same trait in you and feel an instant,soul deep connection. He knows you’d go to the ends of the earth for the people you love,just like he would,and just as he would have loved to do for Ace.