#crocodile x son reader

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ CROCOBABY: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "There is only one person that Crocodile would get down on his knees and fulfill every wish without hesitation, you, his little and only son"

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : Dad! Crocodile, PLATONIC STORY! NO ROMANCE! Dad and son's relationship, the reader doesn't have a specific age but he is a small child, Cross guild spoilers, child reader loves circus, just parental cuteness and stuff

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,2k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : This another stories of a time I only wanted to write about Crocodile, those last times I only want to write for Killer and him, but since I had more ideas for Crocodile I wrote more of him. My finished stories are ending so I'm back writing again, finishing the ask and seeing what I'm going to do next, maybe I will open my request soon but no promises, bye

You coughed, turned again in your bed and finally decided that you weren't going to be able to go back to sleep. You yawned rubbing your eyes with your small hands as you sat up in bed, you looked around the beautiful room you shared with your father. Although you were the one who spent most of your time in that room, so your father had made the necessary changes so that you wouldn't be bored in a place full of adult things.

You now had your own table to study at, your own corner with toys, even an armchair for your size. Furthermore, there were several books that could distract you, it might not be paradise for most children but you were never very demanding, you had toys and other activities and that was more than enough to entertain you for hours. Besides that, when your father was in a good mood he would let you watch the activity at the circus where you lived, it was always such a colorful and lively spectacle that you were mesmerized by everything. Your father hated the circus, but he had made sacrifices for you for your enjoyment, the truth was that more and more of you two went to watch the shows just because he wasn't able to resist the enchanted face of his little son.

Yawning, you moved through the various scarves, furs and other cloths that were always on your bed. Partly to protect you from the cold and partly because you moved so much that your father got tired of always covering you up again, so he just covered you with lots more cloths to make sure you were still covered even if you tossed and turned all night.

You had a little trouble getting out of bed, but you were soon on the floor, your fuzzy socks keeping you from feeling cold. It wasn't long before several of the circus crew saw a child walking around in green banana pajamas and dragging a huge crocodile stuffed animal with him, of course everyone knew who that child belonged to so it wasn't any problem. All the Cross Guild pirates were very kind to you and were always giving you sweets or doing little tricks, you really liked them but your father not so much, so he always made sure you had as little contact with them as possible. He always said that if you spent too much time with them you would become as dumb as Buggy, you didn't understand exactly what that meant.

Luckily the door to your father's office was just ajar, you pushed it with both hands and entered the room. It was similar to his father's old office but was a little smaller and more minimalist, probably because it wasn't very safe to have so much furniture on a ship that could face huge storms. So even now on land his father didn't have many decorations taken from the ship's office.

Crocodile didn't even look up from his papers when the door opened, it was probably Mihawk or Buggy since they had a meeting scheduled this evening, if it weren't them then it would be Mr.1 reporting to him. However, when no one said anything and the door remained open he was slightly confused, he looked up and found no one, his eyebrows were furrowed as he thought of a punishment if it was a prank by Buggy. But to his surprise, all that happened were two little hands pulling his coat trying to get his attention.

“Daddy, lap, daddy” you called for him softly, you were tired and it was obvious that you had just woken up.

"What are you doing here? It’s past your bedtime” he asked with a slightly more affectionate tone that he used specifically for you. Of course it wasn't even close to an extremely loving voice, but it was gentle and calm, an extreme compared to his harsh and aggressive voice towards others. “You should be in bed.” He blew the hair from your forehead as he let you lay against his chest, he had to hold you with his hook arm but you seemed extremely comfortable sleeping on him. It had been a little over an hour since he had put you to sleep and he definitely didn't expect to see you here.

“I can’t sleep” you yawned as you held your crocodile plush tighter and leaned on him, you were lying half sideways against his chest. This reminded the adult of when you were a little baby, he would always hold you regardless of what he needed to do, you were a very needy baby, always crying when he left you alone... maybe he missed how little and needy of his attention you were.

“Do you want me to put you to bed again?” Crocodile was ignoring that he had a meeting soon, the other two pirates could wait, after all his little sand prince would always be his priority.

“No… I'll be right back… I just want… to stay here for a little while” you yawned and finally closed your eyes and relaxed completely against your father. You were already big, but now curled up in his arms with a face so relaxed you almost looked like a baby again.

Sighing Crocodile couldn't hold back his smile, of course he was quick to hide it not wanting anyone but you to see this. He covered you with the huge coat he always wore and went back to his paperwork, he would take you to his bed soon, he would just enjoy this peaceful time with you a little more.

He only realized that a lot of time had passed when Mihawk, Buggy and Mr.1 were entering the office. The clown was shouting and complaining about something while Mihawk ignored him, Daz was holding some papers and approached his boss's desk more quickly. Obviously he was quick to notice the strange bulge hidden beneath his coat, before he could question it he saw his little hand clinging to his father's shirt, he almost smiled but that didn't suit him.

“Do you want me to take the young master to the room?” He asked as he placed the papers on the table and the mention of another person in the room made Mihawk and Buggy shift their attention to Crocodile.

“No, I'll take him after the meeting” he dismissed the support, even though Mr.1 had been his babysitter for the last few months, there were things that the pirate refused to let others do with his son. These were things that only he, the father, had the right to do.

"I see we will have a little guest today" Mihawk said with a gentler air as he sat down, it was strange but the swordsman didn't hate children. A few times he had even seen the two of you interacting while Dracule told you about some island he had been to.

“Oh, that explains his calmness” Buggy sighed a little relieved knowing that Crocodile would never be cruel or scary in front of him.

“Shut up and let’s get this over with, I have other matters to deal with” the hooked man said harshly. Everyone agreed but deep down it wasn't difficult to realize that your father had a huge soft spot for you... And well, you weren't complaining about that.

#one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x you #one piece x male reader #one piece x child reader #one piece x male child reader #one piece x masc reader #one piece x trans male reader #one piece x transmasc reader #x male reader #crocodile x son reader #crocodile x child reader #x masc reader #x child reader #x male child reader #male imagines #boys blog only #male reader imagine #trans male reader #male reader

[one-piece-aus]

What would marriage life would be like with the seven warlords?

This is an old anon request, I do apologize for not getting to it sooner but here we go

What Marriage Life Would Be Like With the Seven Warlords (Headcanons)

It's pretty chill being married to Mihawk

Y'all just vibe in a mansion on an isolated island

I imagine Mihawk is a person of quality time and acts of service so the two of you would often spend time together

Whether it's reading in your library or cooking dinner for each other, every moment you do together and action you do for him is cherished in Mihawk's heart, even if he doesn't mention it

He makes sure you're healthy and well (eating properly, making sure you get your sleep)

This man will be able to instantly tell if your state is the slightest bit off and will not hesitate to voice his concern

He is not opposed to having children, the idea might amuse him

In fact, after Zoro and Perona had made their appearance, Mihawk grew fond of the idea taking care of his own child, even if they would be irritating at times

Btw, Zoro and Perona think you two act like an old married couple ❤

Only way this would be possible is if you are someone like Luffy

She might not understand exactly what marriage life means but she will do her best to make you happy

She is going to cook for you and feed you

She will bathe you and make sure you have the best clothes to wear

And she will order the best doctors to bring you back to your best health if you get sick

She is taking ✨amazing✨ care of you

The two of you are just living the life of luxury regardless of where you choose to live because you two are together and happy

You will not have kids (for a number of reasons that I will not get into because this is supposed to be a fun post)

Alright, I had no idea what to do for Moria so I asked @ask-the-night-crowl for these headcanons, thank you again Snugs

In a marriage, Moria would totally rely on his partner to fulfill all the duties he has/ should be responsible for. Granted, the other mysterious four already take over most of those, but someone has to keep them all in check.

His spouse better not be aversed by his crew, because for as much as he says he doesn't care about these idiots, he would also face death to protect them.

Unless him and his s/o have known eachother for a pretty long time, he'll try to keep them at an arm's length. Not necessarily because they don't have good enough of a connection, but the idea of loss is always on his mind.

He doesn't mind affection. In fact, he'll back-handedly seek it out by annoying his s/o until they give him attention if he so desires. He's pretty much like an oversized cat.

On the other hand, you'll also have to be prepared not to see him for days on end, because of his sleeping habits (Again, like a cat).

But in that time, cuddling with him is totally fine, because once that man is out, he sleeps like a rock.

His frequent nightmares might lead to the conclusion that comforting him would be the answer. But he hates the idea of being treated as weak as that and would much rather appreaciate the mere presence of his s/o when he wakes up next to them.

In contrast, he'll offer the same to his s/o when they feel down and would have an immediate (even petty) grudge against anyone harming them.

Staying in with him at a fireplace, drinking fancy wines and making fun of the other warlords would be his favorite way to spend time when he's awake for once.

If the spouse is good at cooking, you can bet they'll become his personal chef - after all, love goes through the stomach amirite.

If you're marrying Doffy, his family comes as a package deal, you can't have him without it, that being said, he expects you to get along with them (you can tolerate them instead but just don't let him notice)

Of course, he will expect you to take care of Baby 5, Buffalo, and Dellinger as if they were your children, he is open to making blood offsprings, but never put them before him

Doffy is your number 1 priority, whatever he says goes

But just because he's demanding doesn't mean he won't show you affection, in fact, most of his demands is just him wanting to give or receive affection

You are showed in gifts and luxury, he is the king of Dressrosa afterall, your word has every weight as his own since your are his queen

He is proud to show off his spouse, you are his most prized possession after all

However, you are more than just a trophy, after the loss of his dear mother and brother, he holds you close and tells you how dear you are to him every night

You are often woken up in the middle of the night due to his rustling from nightmares, just hold him to calm him down

Crocodile keeps you in the dark about his work, for all you know, he is a casino owner in Alabasta that keeps the people safe from pirates since he's a warlord

He takes you out for a stroll around in the evening, outside to admire the stars, or in the casino where your every need is met

He doesn't show affection in public but his gestures do show you belong to him and no one else

He keeps you company in bed at night until you fall asleep but when you wake up, he is not there, he's working as always

When see him next, he'll have a gift for you, an apology for not being able to always be around as he is a very busy man, but he'll make it up to you

I imagine it would be comfortable, like little cottage in nature kind of comfy

You both would wake up in the morning with a nice cup of tea

Your place would be clean and organized

You'd receive lots of comforting hugs and cuddles

Life would be peaceful

Until strawhat crew comes knocking on your door

Don't quite have any ideas for Kuma so... This is end, I hope you enjoy anon, and thank you for requesting

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #the seven warlords #doflamingo donquixote #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #boa hancock #jinbei x reader #first son of the sea jinbe #gecko moria x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #hawkeye mihawk #one piece warlords #gecko moria #doffy x reader #doffy #doflamingo #crocodile x reader #one piece crocodile #boa hancock x reader

[nekassvariigs]

Intentionally calling them Husband in scenarios, here's how to turns out.

Crocodile, Yamato, Ace, Law, Raighley, Usopp .

This will be a three? part series cause tumblr doesnt allow more pictures to be added for aesthetic ;-;

Part two will feature:Sanji,Zoro,Luffy,Katakuri,Sabo,Roger.

______________________________________________________________

You gambled away your berries at the infamous casino, not that you were of working class desperate for luck, it was fun watching the ball roll everytime with a little interest for securing a loaded paycheck.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

"Good. You?" you tried not to get in contact with him as much possible not really needing to cause a scene.

"M' Alright, been winning loads t'nite. Whats a pretty thing like you doin' out here?" he rested his hand on his machene trting to support his head.

"Just waiting for my husband." you smiled a little, rolling another time.

"That so, who is he, i see noone ready to come for ya, reckon we could go back to mines?"

"No i dont reckon i could, he should be here in a moment anyway." you sigh, he was a little late, you took out a cigarrette from your bag, lighting it, taking a puff.

"Aye you look so lovely, is a shame yous with someone." the man was drunk spilling everthing he had for a chance.

"Ya think?" you sipped your martini.

" 'fcourse, id give ye the word yknow, show you all round the lands and oceans."

"That so? Are you rich?" you wanted to know since he had enough cash to get piss drunk and not care how much he wasted.

"M the richest here as far as i know, let me treat ya to a drink." he slurred his words not noticing the tall figure approaching behind you.

"You dont mind ordering for two by chance?" you smiled cheekily.

"Course not, everythin for you darlin."

he swatted a waitress ordering another two drinks.

"Say can i show ya round? I know this place good enough."

You took another puff from your ciggarette, fondling it between your fingers in an exspensive manner.

"Aye you ignorin me?"

"Ah there we go, lets light this place up," you thought finally exsposing the nature of this man.

He stepped infornt of you hand on your slot machene preventing you from another game.

"Fuckin hag," he hiccuped, ugh how close was this man from soiling himself with barf.

"Got held up a bit, sorry for being late." Crocodile kissed you, compleatley ignoring the fool by your side. You smiled into the kiss opening your mouth a bit to welcome his tongue, proceeding to have a full blown makeout infront of the drunken asshole.

You pulled away from him your lipstick slightly staining his lips.

"This is my husband, if you want to give me the tour youll have to confirm with him." The man looked pale as a ghost upon seeing crocodile.

"He thinks he a big shot or somethin?" The guy pulled out a gun pointing it to his face and firing.

Crocodiles face dissapeared leaving him standing with half of a face.

"Ou, bad move." You laughed hitting the slots for the last time.

In a matter of seconds Crocodiles hand reached for the man his blood boiling before it turned into thin air, his entire body changing to the shape of a pile of sand within seconds.

"Here's your drinks miss." the waitress came setting your drinks you passed the other to your lover. Completely ignoring the slaughter that took place with a calm expression.

Crocodile downed the whole glass in one go leaning for another heavy kiss.

He whispered against your lips, "So im now a husband?" his low tone rumbling in his chest.

"Only if you want to be one,i had to say something didnt i?" you smiled hearing the slots ding in a jackpot.

"Thats my girl." he closed the space between you again.

Ace

You were making a reservation for a restaurant ace laying beside you lazily. "Hi id like to make a reservation for me and my husband."

His heart stopped for a second, he nudged you with a glint in his eyes.

"Yes we'd like a romantic setting please,"

after a few mintues more of the call you ended it thanking the woman in charge.

"You've got a husband now huh?" he asked pressing his legs against yours.

"I sure do, im looking at him right now." You smiled slyly folding a lock of his black hair behind his ears.

His heart was ablaze cheeks crimson, gosh he looked alluring.

He smiled tackling you onto the couch.

You giggled at his childishness it always was a fun sight.

"Yknow i love you." he confessed sweetly for the millionth time.

His body over yours his hair partially blocking his handsome face.

You hummed reaching for him, his body lowered onto yours as he gave you the sweetest of kisses.

"I love you too Ace." he attacked your neck with rampant kisses like a puppy before planting another onto your lips, his body settled down onto yours for a lazy cuddle. You stroked his hair practically hearing him purr against you.

Yamato

He had rescued you a few years back, your limp body on the shore of Onigashima he couldn't help it, he just hoped you'd make it through.

Skipping time to the present he sat ahead of you near the fireplace a large slab of meat cooking.

Ever since he rescued you you two developed a habit of sharing stories and adventures, iconic fights and daily life, you managed to get along prefectly, seeing your intrests align so much you two became a thing in no time. His strong will to be set free along yours to fight for the top place in the grand line made him even more willfull to see the world.

"Yknow im happy to have the strongest husband out in the entire grand line."

"M-Me?" He blushed the red horns shining beautifully against the fireplace.

His strong heart beating a bit faster as be took in your face. You were so confident in your words it made him happy hearing you depend on him like this.

"Mhm, What would i be doing without you." you pondered making him lean in a little before he stood up, your eyes watching his body move to the side of you, he sat beside you wanting a little more comfort, he hadn't gotten such praise in a while.

"Were not really married tho are we?" he questioned knowing youre together.

"Not yet atleast but one day would be nice. Making a name for the strongest out there." You smiled dreaming of the future. your head resting on his shoulder, he took your hand in his full of determination.

"We'd be the best out there." he laughed.

Usopp

You watched your favourite sniper as he coincidentally managed to strike down a whole ship with a single blow, his eyes growing wide mouth ajar as he looked at you.

"Wooo! That's my husband right there!" you laughed drink in hand as you watched his face change from pale surprise to a warm gooey shock.

"Huh? Me? Thats right, The great Sniper king Usopp strikes again! Have i told you how i beat three Warlords? It was a quick fight they stood no chance!" He laughed proclaiming his lies as if they were true.

You hopped on deck to where he was enjoying his glory, giving him a big hug for his accomplishment.

He stiffened up a bit, remining himself to be calm, he always seemed a bit nervous when you approached him, he liked you that much.

"That's right, praise my glory!" You pulled away giving him the stink eye.

He continued to babble until he started calling himself the Best married man out in the open sea and that's when it hit him.

"!?" a glowing bulb of light went off ontop his head, a dark blush covering his cheeks.

"Ha-Huuu-Huuusssband.!?!" he suddenly thought unable to piece the words together as you looked at him nonchalantly.

He puffed his chest out taking a stance. "A-A-As the best husband i have a duty to fuffil to protect my spouse!" He contained his excitment proud of his new nickname as you kept clapping and cheering for him.

Raighley

Lazing by the bar at Shabody Archipellago a few men were riling themselves up celebrating a big feat.

"Thats our capitan for you! Securing a boatload of treasure!" They cheered and hollered as you swirled your drink reading a magazine.

"Oi miss, celebrate with us!" they laughed alcohol pouring down their throats.

You shifted your gaze towards them giving them a pessimistic side eye.

"-?!" They seemed shocked to be ignored seeming a little alert by how little attention you payed to them.

"Our bad fellas, Young lady here is in a bit of a bad mood today." Raighley excused himself butting in not willing to ruin a good evening, his hand on your shoulder as you continued to swipe through the pages.

"That's right guys, i'm a little off today." You smirked having stolen a sachel of gold from one of them.

They resumed their party as Raighley tooo seat beside you.

"70/30?" He asked calmly negotiating to split the gold you swiped.

"60/40." You offered back checking out a set of clothes toying with the ends of the paper.

A sharp sword near Raighleys throat , his glasses gleaming white as you stayed still as did he, the man yelled.

"Which one of you was it?" He stormed poiting the blade so it shined against the lights beside the bar.

The two of you stayed quiet still neither fazed by the antic taking place.

The man neared his sword close to Raighleys neck, cutting off a few strands of his beard.

That was a no-go in your books. "Oi, You plan to pay for touching my husband like that?" you gave him the nastiest of looks pointing the blade away with the tip of your finger. Raighley smirked enjoying your facade.

"This old fart, your husband?" He laughed, showing his nearly tothless mouth. Pointing the blade back at you.

Raighley took a drink his hand winding over the sword before him. "You wanna pay up? Or do i have to beat the shit out of you for it?"

"Look at his old ass, having a woman stand up for him." The room errupted in laugher even Raighley mocked a laugh smile lines crickling as he did so.

"55/45." He resumed talking with you causing you to chuckle.

"Might aswell 50/50 it at this point." Rolling your eyes you extended a hand for him to shake, he caught it twisting it so your knuckles faced him.

He gave them a peck and in a fell swoop the aura in the vacinity changed darkening quickly,men around you dropped like flies.

'' You've got a bad habit of doing that don't you dear." He looked at you through white brows downing the last of his drink confidently.

He played along causing you to huff in amusement.

''It doesn't hurt now does it?'' you leaned back watching over the passed out bodies.

''Let's go, I think we have outstayed our visit." You got up from the stool, tip-toing around sweaty bodies as you proceeded to swipe anything worth the while.

He followed suite with a hearty laugh, offering his hand to you as you stepped out.

Law

Bepo was pestering you today, the cute bear had a lot of questions for you so you sat back explaining so many things to him now wanting to deny his curiosity.

"So then after a relationship, you get married?''

He asked fluffy hands on the table across you.

''That's right, you get married, then if you want to you can have kids, rule the seas pretty much do whatever your heart desires and you have a trustworthy companion to do so with.'' you gleamed egging on this childish play. Law lazing by the ship a cup of hot tea in his hand.

''So then, do you have a husband?'' he asked noticing you had a ring on your finger, granted it wasn't for official titling you just put in on randomly this morning as it was a fancy peace of jewelry you found.

You chuckled hard extending your hand to showcase the ring to Bepo, Law listening in as he sipped his tea in peace, he liked gossip as well.

''I sure do, it's Law.'' you decided to mess with the bear, his jaw hitting the table as his fluffy hands grasped yours.

Law spat out his drink making it fly across his face hands and clothes. You could feel a looming darkness behind you as you continued answering Bepo's questions about your so called 'husband'.

''Y/n-ya, we need to talk.'' Law didn't even give you the time to get up using his devil fruit to teleport you to his office his dirtied clothes diminishing the raging look on his face.

''In your right mind, why would you lie to Bepo about something like this?'' he wiped away the tea inevitably staining his clothes, you held back a chuckle.

''He was acting very cute, you know how hard it is to say no to his questions.''

Law paused hands on the table before him a dirty paper towel in one hand, he had a glooming aura to him. ''DONT SO SAYING THINGS LIKE THIS TO HIM AND TAKE THAT OFF!'' he yelled surrounding you in his room skill to intimidate you.

You shrieked agreeing to his taunt as you put the ring away, he sighed.

''N E V E R, and i mean that seriously, NEVER tell him such childish imaginations, next thing you'll know he'll be trying his best to recreate a wedding. '' he yelled with a big frown on his face.

The moment you stepped out Bepo handed you a bouquet. Egging you to do a walk down the isle.

Law was in utter terror of how he took on two absolute dumbasses, he stormed back out on the ship, the two of you got rewarded with heavy bumps on your heads and laundry chores for weeks.

#law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece headcannons #one piece fanfiction #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #onepiece crocodile #one piece silvers raighley #raighley x reader #dark knight raighley #usopp x reader #god usopp x reader #bepo one piece #yamato x reader #yamato son of kaido #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #yamato son of kaido x reader #one piece usopp #one piece ace #one piece yamato #one piece raighley

[envy-of-the-apple]

Monsoon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

10.1k wc

Synopsis: Four years after Toji Fushiguro died, Satoru decided to give his widow a visit

(Warnings: age difference (nothing underaged), dark content, AFAB reader, pregnancy kink, non con, overstimulation, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough sex)

It was raining when Gojo Satoru entered your flat. 

Not particularly harshly, but more than enough for a scare. You weren't in the mood for visitors; the rain made you drowsy, and it was coincidentally your one day off. You wanted to lean against the window and watch the droplets fall against the pavement with a warm blanket. You did not want to exchange pleasantries with some kid. 

The only reason you didn't slam the door in his face was because he said your husband's name. 

It was why you were bringing tea to someone who clearly couldn't care less about it as he lounged on the sofa. You sat on the other end, staring at the scuffed coffee table. Out of anxiety, you play with the ring wrapped around your finger. 

"...He's dead?" 

It's a question, but you already know the answer. Gojo doesn't even bother to reply, humming, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid. You still stare at the coffee table. It's slightly crooked. One of the legs was broken. Toji promised he'd fix it. 

That was four years ago. You hadn't seen him since. 

You should have expected this. You knew the kind of man Toji was even before he stuck that flimsy ring on your finger. The kinds of people he hung out with. The suspicious amounts of money he would shower you with. There would have never been a happy end for the two of you. 

You can still feel your throat close up, bile rise from your belly. You can't do anything but watch the old table you never threw out because he promised he'd come back and fix it. 

The only reason you close your eyes, sucked in a tight breath, was because you still had a guest over. One that clearly wouldn't care about your crocodile tears. 

You've never seen someone his age so apathetic before. That temperament was associated with the people of your generation. The people who've already been in the workforce, who carried stress on their backs and hips. You can't see his eyes, but the slouch in his posture is indicative enough. Maybe all kids his age were like this. Uncaring, indifferent, subtly disrespectful. 

Because he was a kid. It didn't matter how tall he was, how much bigger than you he was. A single look was all you needed to know that this boy was at least a decade younger than you. Unkept white hair, sunglasses despite the weather, a cocky smile, a voice oozing with misplaced confidence.

You don't acknowledge it; it's clear he didn't come here just to tell you your husband is dead. 

"How old's your kid? Eight?" Gojo tilts his head. "You gotta' know what that means, right?" 

You do. Even if you weren't steeped into the world your husband willfully left, you know enough. You know how important your son is. 

It's why you stop Gojo before he can make his offer. You've already heard this before, a week ago when men with Zenin as their last names knocked on your door. 

"Thank you for your concern," you tell him as calmly and respectfully as you can. For the first time, the man straightens up, as if your answer wasn't what he expected. You can sense he isn't used to being told no. 

 You keep your smile neutral, pleasant, final. 

"But we're fine as we are."

Moments later, when he's about to leave, you offer an umbrella, insistent on him taking it. It was raining after all. He takes it with him without any protest. 

You don't notice that, despite the downpour, he was perfectly dry when he stepped into your home.

☔︎︎

Megumi was always special. 

Every mother thinks that for their child. You're no exception. As soon as he was born, tiny in your arms, swaddled in blankets, something shifted within you. You'd always wanted children, but the concrete feeling of your child in your arms when he's so vulnerable. You'd never felt anything more right. 

To you, Megumi was always special. But when Megumi turned 5, he became special to the entire world. 

Toji was never tight-lipped about the world he came from. Shamans, sorcerers, shikigami, curses. You weren't an expert, but you certainly knew more than the average person. He'd often tell you things, when he was drunk, pulling you against his bare chest, underneath cheap blankets. You always heard the bitterness in his voice. That world had rejected him. It would reject anyone who wasn't special enough. Special people were rare. 

It's why you were convinced Megumi would never have to deal with any of that. His father wasn't a sorcerer, neither were you. He'd live a normal life and would only be special to you. 

"It's on your other shoulder." 

You switched hands, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. Like always, you couldn't feel anything. There was no weight on your skin, nothing tangible that you could grab and toss. There was just this small feeling of dread. A small ache in your bones. 

He waves a tiny hand. Instantly, the feeling of dread is gone. The ache lifts and you roll your shoulders. 

"Thank you," you tell him with a strained, but grateful smile. He nods, turning back to his food. 

"You're getting more, now," he simply says. 

"Haha, sorry," you reply instinctively because even though he's eight, you feel like you've burdened him. 

"It's okay," he mutters, quiet as always. His gaze flicks back up at you, before glancing back down. He takes a second to gnaw on his lip. 

"Are...are you okay?" 

You're being so obvious even your own son could see it. 

Your smile feels more forced as you placate him with the usual lie of 'Mommy's just tired, long day at work'. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't say anything back. He's so much like his father in these moments. Truthfully, you didn't think Megumi got a single thing from you. His black hair is Toji's, his blue eyes are Toji's, his pale skin is Toji's, and even his forever-present scowl is your late husband's. You supposed that should have been the first sign: Megumi would be anything but normal. 

You hadn't told him about the visits. You're his parent, you had justified to yourself. He's a child. He doesn't need to know about the visits. Especially, considering you decided for him. Megumi would be raised out of the jujutsu world, away from curses, and sorcerers. 

You can't have your son taken away from you like his father was.

('Special Grade', Gojo had told you. A powerful cursed spirit. You hadn't gotten closure until you let him in. No body was ever recovered.)

You can't let your son end up like that. 

But was this the right life for him? You watch as Megumi's gaze trails up, like he's tracing the movement of a fly or something bigger that you would never see. 

You can't relate to Megumi. You don't have cursed energy. You can't see the things he can. As much as you loved him, you'd never be able to understand what he is. None of his classmates can. None of his teachers. It sounds lonely. Isolating. 

Only a handful of people that could ever give Megumi that connection exist. And they're willing to accept him with open arms. 

He had been an older man, flanked by another. They eyed your home with relative disgust; you, with mild derision. It'd been their words that echo in your head today. How much happier Megumi would be surrounded by his own kind. How the clan would welcome him and teach him to hone his technique. 

They were words that would sate the parent of a lonely boy, but you couldn't help but remember the disregard in his voice. Their words made Megumi sound like a tool, instead of a child. 

The offer of payment for your son was enough to turn them away. 

Was Gojo Satoru any better? From your brief encounter, you couldn't tell. There was always a smile on his lips whenever he talked about Megumi's future and Jujutsu Tech. The lilt of his voice felt fake, artificial. But at least he didn't ask to outright buy your son. 

When Megumi's tucked into bed, you pace around the living room. You glance at the slip of paper he'd left behind. The scrawl of numbers in neat handwriting. The thing he slipped into your unsuspecting hand. You've had a glass of wine before, maybe that's why your hands are a little more steady when you punch in the numbers. 

He picks up after the second ring. It oddly feels like he was waiting for your call. 

"Can jujutsu sorcerers live normal lives?"

There's a laugh on the other end. Light. Amused. 

"No," his response is cold, even when his tone isn't, "Even if they leave the jujutsu world, they will never have normal lives." 

The answer you were afraid of, but you weren't surprised. Special people rarely live normal lives. You knew what this meant: trying to protect Megumi from his father's fate would be pointless. No matter how far you run, no matter how far you take him, it will never be enough. 

"Does it really matter, then?" you ask, "who Megumi goes with." 

"In that sense, no, not really," his voice crackles back, "But I think you've already made your decision." 

You had days ago. You were just wasting time, picking up the phone only to drop it just as quickly. As much as you'd wanted to keep your son away from the jujutsu world, you knew, even before they knocked on your door, it was a failed endeavor. Megumi was special. Megumi was too special for you to hide. He shone too brightly. 

The Zenin clan would extinguish that. You knew it. Toji knew it too. It's why he took on your name. 

It's silent again. You bite your lip. You've been doing that a lot lately. 

"Gojo, may I ask a favor?" He gives a hum. 

"Please, don't tell him about Toji." 

There's a beat of silence. The line clicks. 

Two days later, Megumi meets the strongest sorcerer of the modern era. 

☔︎

There was always something clinical about Megumi's and Gojo's relationship. 

You wouldn't call them father-son, let alone brotherly. It was strictly student and teacher. From the start, it was clear Megumi wasn't impressed with the sorcerer. His scowl would somehow get deeper whenever the young man was around. 

Gojo didn't seem all that impressed either. He wasn't as blatant, but you could sense that it was a chore for him, rather than anything else. You don't think you can blame him. He's barely twenty. He should be doing other things. Living his youth, and continuing his education. 

Gojo grew up too fast. You can see it in his face. He's never not smiling, but it's never truly sincere. It's not clinical either. It looks exhausted. You wonder-if he wasn't wearing those glasses all the time-if you'd see dark circles. 

He's too young to be running around this much. He's too young to carry the entire world of jujutsu sorcery on his back. He's too young to be an educator. A mentor. 

Yet he is. Yet he does. All with a smile on his face. 

You're less intense nowadays to him. When Megumi comes home, clearly a bit more roughed up than when he left, you criticize Gojo less harshly. When you make lunch for Megumi, you ask if he'd like anything as well. Gojo has a bigger sweet tooth than your eight-year-old son does. You never nag him for it. 

The change doesn't fully happen until that fateful conversation. It's an offhanded remark he makes about him not being there to train Megumi for a few weeks because of a mission. 

"A curse?" you ask, as if they aren't all around you. 

Gojo grins because you've discovered he likes talking. "Reports are coming down from Sendai. The running bet currently is special grade." 

You frown. "Oh. Well, be careful." 

He freezes at that. You think he's staring at you, but you're not too sure. His glasses give away nothing. Your fingers dance with nerves. Had you said something wrong?

"What?" 

You tilt your head. "Oh! Uh, 'be careful'. Stay safe." You end your sentence awkwardly. 

Eventually, Gojo recovers. "Yeah. Well, obviously." He smiles. 

You watch him leave, keeping your eye on him until he disappears into the sleek black car. 

It doesn't occur to you until much later that Gojo probably hasn't had someone worry about him before. 

☔︎︎

Whenever Megumi's training continues much later in the evenings, you go to the Gojo estate to pick him up yourself. 

It's a grand house. Practically a mansion. You've never felt so embarrassed about your humble apartment until you saw the lavishness Satoru lived in. A part of you is now even more impressed by Megumi's stubbornness. Children are the first to fall for the affluent. 

It's big, but you've never quite gotten over how empty it looks. Every time you visit, there's always just Satoru. You haven't seen his mom, his dad, any siblings. It looks like a family home, but he's the only one who's ever there. 

He's never mentioned any family. You wonder what happened to them. Where they are now. 

Somedays, you arrive a bit earlier than needed. During that time, you tend to stroll through the gardens. They're so beautiful. Large and expansive. They're empty, however, just like that grand house. No flowers. Not even weeds. It's just a bunch of dirt and stones, plainly stacked on top of each other. It disappoints you a bit. The grounds had so much potential. 

"Whatcha' got for me this time?" You jump, whirling around. Satoru is right behind you, a teasing grin on his face. 

You give him a disapproving look, though it lacks any real heat. "I told you to stop doing that." 

"Doing what?" Though he may be twenty, he acts like he's younger than your son. Speaking of your child:

"Where's Megumi?" You prod, glancing behind Satoru, as though your grumpy child would pop up behind him. No such thing happens. Satoru's incriminating smile grows wider. 

"Homework," he cryptically replies, "also, he didn't want to disturb us adults having our grown-up conversations." 

"Of course he did," is all you say, but you acquiesce regardless, digging through your bag. 

You've always been taught to bring something when visiting another person's home. You found it rude not to, despite how casual Satoru acts around you. You discovered he liked sweets the most, so you have tried your best to satisfy his sweet tooth. He seems happy with whatever you give him. One thing you like about Satoru is how he cherishes all the gifts he's received from you without any complaint. You spotted the umbrella you'd given him all those weeks ago, sitting right by the door. He'd never given it back. You'd never asked for it. 

You try to ignore the feeling that the only reason he gets excited about your gifts is that it's rare for him to receive anything at all. Satoru doesn't need to be pitied. 

It's nothing too big, just a bag of saltwater taffy from an Americanized store. He's already ripping the package open, pulling one out of the wrapper to stick it in his mouth. 

You blink when he extends his hand, another piece of candy between his fingers. 

"Say 'ah'!" 

"Oh no, I'm fine. They're for you—" Satoru interrupts you by popping the piece right in your mouth. Your lips instinctively close. 

"Oh." You say after you taste the sweet. "Peppermint." 

He laughs, taking another one out for himself. You follow him through the abandoned gardens. 

"So, how's Megumi's-"

"Nuh-uh," Satoru immediately stops you, "enough about work. Let's talk about something else!" 

You roll your eyes, but your smile is too affectionate. You ask him about his latest trip overseas. He tells you about the country he visited, the curse he exorcised, practically giddy from excitement. Conversation starts there before moving onto other things, small talk, your job. 

"It's a shame the gardens are so empty," you say when the conversation reaches a lull. 

He stares at the bare patches of dirt with you. "When I was younger, the gardeners would take care of 'em for us. Flowers would bloom every spring." 

You feel him recoil. Satoru does that sometimes. Say something too intimate, hissing when it's too late to take them back. For his sake, you don't comment on it. 

"It must have looked beautiful." Is all you respond. Understanding, but closed enough to give him relief. 

You stand there in silence for a couple of seconds. In the dirt, you can see a tiny ant carrying a grain of sand. 

"Roleplay time!" Satoru suddenly exclaims. You whirl your head to look at him. "Imagine you become the great Gojo Satoru." You stifle a laugh at that. His grin only gets wider. "What kind of flowers would you choose?" 

Toji always thought bouquets were stupid. 'There's no point' he'd always say 'the weeds will just die anyway, why you somethin' like that?'. But sometimes, he'd bring home these tiny, golden flowers. Simple. Pretty. He'd tuck it behind your ear, grinning at his work. You'd kiss him in return. 

"Marigolds," you say at last. 

Satoru only hums in response. A few seconds later, he's leading you out of the garden, rambling about how expensive sushi was overseas. 

A few days later, you see men with barrels of soil, combing through the garden. 

A week after, tiny golden flowers start poking through the dirt. Simple. Pretty. 

☔︎︎

You had that same dream again. The day Toji left. 

It's rare to have these dreams. They wouldn't leave you alone the first year he'd disappeared. Back when you thought he'd gotten bored of you and your son, like he'd finally decided he was sick of the family life. 

They come back sporadically, nowadays. You can't sleep after you have them, so you often find yourself curled up in the living room, looking at the window. It was raining. Heavy droplets thud on the glass. The violence seems desperate somehow. Like the weather is begging to be let in, to snuggle underneath the warm blankets too. 

On nights like this, it's a habit to stare at the tiny golden band on your finger. You slip it off, holding it in your palm. It's nothing extravagant—tiny with a simple design—but it's the last thing you have of him. Toji was never that sentimental. 

It's not really a dream. Dreams are more whimsical, cloudy. You can remember everything, down to the outfit he'd been wearing, the fly that had been buzzing around your door. It was like you were there all over again, begging him not to go. 

"You promised you'd stop." 

"This is different," Toji said and you flinched when he tucks away his gun. You thought he'd gotten rid of it. 

"The money?" You're pressing, "we have enough money, you-" 

"This isn't about fuckin' cash," his voice cuts through you, sharper than any blade he carried. 

"It's somethin' else. Somethin' you wouldn't understand. It goes beyond money." 

Your gaze lowers, curling your fists on the table. You can't understand, not when he refuses to tell you. Not when he barely explains why he's going back to his old ways in the first place. 

Sensing he's upset you, Toji sighs. You can hear him place something down on the dining table, metallic and clanky. Calloused, rough fingers brush your cheek, your jaw, coaxing you to look at him. You don't, forcing him to lean forward, giving a chaste kiss on your cheek. His lips are rough, cracked, but overwhelmingly gentle on your skin. 

"I love you," Toji mutters into your skin. 

You don't respond. You wish you had, you wish you'd gotten over your pride and told him because maybe then he'd still be here with you. He's giving another sigh, tucking your hair into place before he's leaving. He closes the door behind him. 

That day, you told yourself you wouldn't forgive him. Whenever he came back, you'd tell him you were done. You'd take Megumi and you'd leave. 

Now, you think you would have forgiven him. Eventually. It would have taken a while, a lot more than measly flowers and apologies. But, if he had come back, you would have let him back into your heart.

"Couldn't sleep?" you ask. 

Megumi blinks his eyes. It's past his bedtime, but you aren't going to nag him for it. You place the cup of steaming tea down on the coffee table, clicking your tongue when it wobbles. Right, four years later and you still hadn't fixed it,

"The rain was too loud." He gives. 

Wordlessly, you invite him into the cocoon you'd nestled yourself into. The sofa sinks under his weight as he settles next to you, leaning against your side. You tuck the warm blanket around his tiny body. He's still small enough to fully wrap your arm around him, bringing him even closer. You take advantage of it. You don't know how much time you have until he's too big to cuddle with anymore. 

His breaths are even and slow. He's a boy of few words, but even you think he's asleep until he's mumbling something into your ear. 

"I hate him." 

You give a confused hum, leaning down, resting your head on top of his. The coffee table looks even more uneven at this angle. It burns to even look at, these days.

"He makes you cry, even when he's not around anymore." 

You laugh at that. It's a quiet huff. When you glance down, you think you spot a faint smile on the boy's lips. He’s so much like his fathers, in the little things. You don’t think you will ever tell Megumi that. You don’t think he’ll take that observation well.

"I wasn't crying.” You tell him. “I was just thinking.”

He doesn't give a response after that. A few minutes later when you look down again, his eyes are closed, and he's drooling against your shoulder. You laugh again before gently gathering your son in your arms and settling him down to bed. 

The next day, you notice the monstrous amount of duct tape wrapped around the leg of the coffee table. When you ask Megumi about it, he just shrugs, his ears twinging a bright red. 

You throw the coffee table away. It's replaced by a new one the following week. 

☔︎︎

Satoru didn't like talking about Toji. 

You only tried prying once or twice. He was tight-lipped about it. Not quite cold, but he'd shut the conversation down quickly, more than eager to talk about something else. You missed it the first few times, but it became clear that Satoru disdained even the mention of your late husband. You can't tell if it's whether Satoru admired Toji enough that the mere mention of his name sends him into grief, or if it's something a lot more complicated. 

Now that you think of it, you barely even knew the relationship Gojo had with Toji. Had they been close? Was he just an acquaintance? Satoru had always been so cryptic about it. 

Toji hadn't. 

"He's called the strongest man?" you ask, amusement twinged in your voice, "I thought he was 12." 

"They don't care about age when giving titles," Toji replied.

You were leaning onto his shoulder, watching your son sleep in his crib. Only three months old and he had this permanent frown on his face, as if he was already sick of the world. 'He already acts like you' you once told your husband. He'd scoffed, but he didn't disagree. 

"That's a little funny," you find yourself saying. "What, can he lift a car? Does he benchpress 200?" 

Toji doesn't find the image of a child casually lifting 150lb weights as funny. He only grunts, drawing you closer. 

"I met him once," he says after a beat of silence, "back when he was barely older than a toddler." 

"Hm?" you prodded, still mesmerized by a sleeping Megumi, "what'd you think?" 

"Power," Toji responds, "more power than I'd ever have." 

You tear your gaze away from your son, glancing at your husband. Toji's eyes were looking somewhere, farther than you could see. It's the envy in his voice that you can't help but keep. A mere child already has everything Toji could ever want. Strength, a name, honor. 

You should have realized then that Toji would never belong to you. Not truly. His heart, whether or not he swore up and down otherwise, would always belong to the Jujujtsu world. It's a tragedy. Someplace that he always longed for acceptance, will never truly see him. Even when he died for it. 

Satoru will probably never answer your questions about Toji, but perhaps you could get close. 

"Why did you do it?" 

It was after dinner. Satoru had dropped your son off, and you had practically dragged the white-haired man inside with you, sitting him down on the dining table. He'd complained, but you know he secretly liked being coddled. He didn't deny the second helpings, nor the thirds. Sometimes you wondered if he was a man or a black hole. 

Megumi had already gone to bed, and you supposed he had enough of Satoru for one day. It left you and him in the kitchen, putting away the dishes. Rather, you put away the dishes, and Satoru watched. Not that you minded. It was nice to have company. 

"Hm?" He was typing away at his phone, blearily turning back to look at you. You couldn't get why he didn't just go home if he was so uninterested. 

"Why did you interfere when the Zenin came?" You repeat your question, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher. 

Looking back, things could have gone much differently for you. For your son. You didn't realize how much power the Zenin clan had back then. Had Satoru not stepped in, had you kept rejecting them, you honestly wonder what sorts of drastic measures men like them would take for the sake of power. 

"Are you upset?" He asks, tilting his head. 

"Of course not." You smile. You were grateful for Satoru, you always have been. He's helped your family out in more ways than you could imagine. After all he's helped Megumi with, there was nothing Satoru could do to get you mad at him, hate him, not truly. 

"I was just wondering. It's not like you had an obligation to." 

You close the dishwasher with a soft click. The machine starts with a soft hum. He doesn't reply, not for a long while, when you look up, you see him staring back at you. His sunglasses were off, folded, tucked under his collar. 

"Clans are bullshit." You're surprised by the venom in his voice. There's a cinch in his jaw. You wonder how many years his hatred has been festering like this. 

"The entire Jujujstu world is, honestly. But clans are the worst of all. The hierarchy. Traditions. All dogshit. They'd gobble the kid and spit him back out. I-I didn't want him-" He stops with a hiss, like he'd said too much.

This time, you don't let him run away. 

"...you didn't want him to end up like you." You finish. 

It clicks, fits together like a jigsaw piece. The Gojo name had ruined Satoru, turned him into something he was too young to be. The name forced him to grow up faster, stronger. The name forced him to be isolated, lonely.

That conversation with Toji curls up inside of you. Back then, you'd only empathized with Toji's pain, but what about Satoru's pain? What about the amount of expectations that had been piled on top of a 12-year-old boy? What about the responsibilities he's forced to carry, each weight growing heavier and heavier but he can't break because he is Gojo? 

Satoru stands before you, but you can easily picture him as Megumi. Tiny, small Megumi who didn't speak much but whose heart was bigger than anyone you knew. He could end up like Satoru. Standing at the top of the mountain. All powerful. All alone. 

You don't want Megumi to be alone. 

You don't want Satoru to be alone. 

"Satoru." You step forward. "Could...could I give you a hug?" 

He doesn't respond. You step closer. No barrier. 

When you wrap your arms around him, you think you can feel him tremble. It takes a moment for him to catch up, for his arms to drape across your back. You clutch onto him tighter, silently promising not to let go until he does. 

He doesn't, not for a long while. 

☔︎︎

Satoru had a mission on his twenty-second birthday. So, you celebrate five days after he turns twenty-two. 

"Again," you say for the nth time, "If-if you have other plans, or anything else, I don't have to stay-" 

"Will you stop it, already," Satoru interrupts, "You're gonna make me depressed. I already told you, I got no other plans." 

 "Well," you frown, "if you change your mind, and you'd rather spend time with your friends..." 

"What other friends? You're the only one I got." 

You frown at that. He smiles, barely lingering on his loneliness. He does that a lot lately, brush it off. Perhaps it's become easier to. Perhaps it's because you're here now. 

The sun had already set on the Gojo estate. The stars were already out. Typically, you would have been antsy staying too late over, especially when Megumi was still home, but your son was a few cities over. He was training with another sorcerer, his new mentor stating that your son wouldn't be back for a couple more days. 

Wait, now that you think of it. 

"Satoru," you say, your voice heavy with disapproval, "Did you send Megumi off purely because it was your birthday?”

He grins wider, showing off his pearly whites. "No idea what you’re talking about." 

You frown harder. He clicks his tongue in distaste.

"It's not like the kid would wanna come celebrate anyway, and now you can focus on me! Two birds one stone." He flops on the couch.

"Satoru." 

"Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!" Satoru chants, as if that'll distract you. 

Unfortunately, it does. You roll your eyes, but you lean down, pulling out the pastry out of the bag. It's nothing special, and you do not consider yourself an expert in baking. It certainly isn't fancy, but you were still a little proud. Simple, a small chocolate cake, perfect for two.

Satoru stares. 

"I know it isn't much-" 

"I love it," he says and you can't tell if he's joking or not, "I'm gonna make it a family heirloom." 

You laugh at that. It shakes your shoulders. 

"I don't think cakes are built to last that long. How about you just eat it, instead." 

"Much better plan," Satoru responds, grabbing a fork, eager to dig in. 

He yelps when you slap his hand away as you give him a stern look. You touched his skin. You try not to linger at that, at the fact that he let you touch him. 

"Not now," you say, but you still smile, "you need to blow out the candles first." 

He huffs but doesn't protest when you stick two candles into the soft frosting. It takes a while to work the old lighter; you have to shoo him away when he tries to snatch it from you. You force Satoru to sit there for at least a minute as you sing the dreadful happy birthday song. He doesn't seem to mind, a mean grin growing on his face, letting you finish up the lyrics. 

Toji was mortified every time you managed to stick a birthday hat onto him, dragging him to the living room for his cake. He'd hold his infant son in his arms, his frown even less amused. Even then, he never interrupted the stupid tradition you put him through. He'd sit through the entire ceremony, Megumi asleep on his chest. A scowl would twitch on his lips whenever you managed to smear a dab of frosting on his nose.

You clap when Satoru blows out the candles. 

"What did you wish for?" You ask minutes later, swallowing down a bite of frosting. He was already on his third piece. You know you should tell him to slow down but you don't think it will do much. 

"If I tell you, it won't come true," Satoru responds, his tone light.

"That's a myth," you point out, "but keep your secrets if you must." 

You set your plate down when Satoru speaks the next time. 

"I wished for us to do this again." 

His voice is shallow, echoing throughout the empty house. You look at him, his white hair, his pink lips, his blue eyes. Everything that encompasses Gojo Satoru is focused entirely on you.

"That next year, we'll celebrate the exact same way." 

He sounded so small, as though he were younger than 22. Perhaps, a part of him was. A gentle smile spreads on your face. 

"Of course we will," you assure, before your voice gets teasing, "the next year, the year after that, and the next year until you get sick of me." You laugh. He doesn't laugh back. It's silent again, the kind of quiet that's full and meaningful. Distantly, you hear a clock ticking somewhere. It's a nice night. Peaceful. God, you were so tired from all the stressing you did for the cake. Satoru wanted to watch a movie after the cake cutting, but you wonder if he'll forgive you if you fell asleep during the film. You were exhausted. 

That's why it takes you a second to register his lips are on yours. 

The kiss is soft, and patient. His mouth moves slowly against yours. You can taste the chocolate. It takes a second to understand what Satoru was doing that he wasn't Toji before your hands are moving, reaching up to his shoulders, keeping him there as you shy away, breaking the kiss. You two stay like that for a few more moments, still touching. You can hear your breath, feel your heartbeat. A little while later, he moves closer, intent on following your mouth, before your brain kicks in and you're shutting him down, standing up. 

Satoru blinks up at you, the realization of rejection sinking into his eyes before you stumble over yourself to apologize because, dear god, you should have seen this coming. 

"I'm so sorry, Satoru," your voice is coming out in clumps, "I never meant to... I always thought...I'm a decade older than you." 

The ocean eyes crystalize, turning into cold tanzanite. You're too muddled with guilt and self-hatred to notice. Of course, Satoru would take things the wrong way. Of course, he'd misunderstand. You always thought he was wise for his age, but he's still in his early twenties. You should have been better and made your boundaries known. God, you were so stupid. 

"So?" he asks, but his voice lacks the usual snark. "Who cares how old you are?" 

You resist the urge to say something accidentally condescending. 'You'll understand when you're older' stings in the back of your tongue, and you wonder if it's fair to say considering how you acted when you were younger than Satoru­­-- when Toji was an older man who found you amusing enough for dinner and a warm bed. 

It's different now. You were older, wiser. Toji had been a mistake. A mistake you miss every day. 

"Of course, you don't," you say, and despite it all, a laugh fumbles out your throat. Shaky, delirious. "Again, I'm so sorry. It's entirely my fault-I-I should have communicated things better."  

"Why does any of that matter?." It's his turn to stand up, and it makes everything so much worse because Satoru's taller than you. "It doesn't, not to me. I lo-" 

"Stop."

It's not a yell, but it's the harshest tone you've ever used on him. Still, it's enough for his breath to falter, to give you a moment of reprieve because the only other person who said that to you and meant it died six years ago. You touch the cold metal of your ring. You twist it around your finger. When Satoru's eyes gaze down, following your movements, you force yourself to stop self-soothing. 

The ticking of the clock starts back up again. You want to smash it. 

"I should go."

You already know it's a bad idea. You shouldn't leave Satoru alone. You should stay, sort things out, mend his heart, but you're human. You want to run, sort yourself out first. You want to take the cowards' way out. Satoru doesn't stop you. You can't bear to look at him, not when it's so much to even be here. Your mind is already being thrown into disarray and you're barely remembering to grab your purse. 

Your hands rest on the door when you pause. You don't bother turning around. You know he's already looking at you. 

"Happy birthday, Satoru." 

For some reason, you cry the entire ride home. 

☔︎︎

Surprisingly, it's Megumi who asks about it. 

It'd been a week since you'd last spoken to Satoru. Communication stills, and stops completely. It goes both ways, he doesn't randomly pop by anymore, scaring the daylights out of you. You no longer buy strange-sounding sweets because you know you won't be seeing him later. One week ago, Satoru was there. The next, he wasn't. 

"Has he said sorry yet?" 

You jolt up, staring at your son. Megumi is still glowering at the vegetables you'd put on his plate. At this point, you know he doesn't hate the food. He just always looks like that. 

"What?" 

"He obviously did something to you." He mutters. "Did he at least say sorry?" 

No matter how uninterested your son always portrayed himself as, he was very observant. Of course, he would. As much as you loved Megumi, you wish he'd be just 10 percent less attentive. 

You force yourself to laugh anyway. "Satoru didn't do anything." You assure. "What makes you say that?" 

"The idiot's been sulking all week," Megumi responds, "everyone's been wondering what's up with him." 

You give him a disapproving look, but you doubt it did anything. Instead, you glance down, mindlessly poking at your plate. 

"Don't call him that," you say softly.

Megumi only shrugs. Despite everything, you still have this strange urge to defend Satoru, if only to save your own dignity of fighting with someone 10 years younger than you.

"Nothing happened. It-it was a misunderstanding, that's all." You hope your smile doesn't look uncertain. He's only ten, but he's already so perceptive. You don't think it's enough to convince him. Your smile drops. You roll your shoulders. 

Another thing you should have seen coming. Of course, Megumi would notice. Despite how annoyed Megumi acts around him, there's still a sort of bond between the two boys. A connection between two sorcerers, something you will never have with your son. You were wrong about your initial assessment about their relationship. They were much closer than you thought. Satoru cared about Megumi, as did Megumi about Satoru. Your souring relationship with Satoru might break that. . 

Your actions have consequences. To everyone, not just yourself. 

"I'll talk to him soon about it, I promise." As if to placate him further, you reach over, patting his hair. He frowns deeper but doesn't make a move to shove you off. 

To your chagrin, soon comes later that evening. Satoru breaks the ice first with a single text. 

you free tomorrow

It's nothing like him. No emoticons. No exclamation marks. You say yes, regardless. The next evening, you step out of the taxi, thanking the driver before stepping onto the Gojo property. 

It was raining, barely a drizzle, not enough to make you want to bring an umbrella. Still, the air was chilly, just enough so that you clutched the coat covering your body tighter. You carefully avoid the puddles adorning the sidewalk. 

You agreed to come here, but it's hard to keep that in mind as you climb the patio steps. You stand in front of the door for an entire minute, counting each second, before you knock. 

"Finally! Took you long enough." 

It's hard to look at him. Already, your gaze threatens to waver. You force yourself not to wrap your arms around your sides. For once, you're glad he wears those sunglasses of his. 

Satoru, on the other hand, barely looks affected by the encounter. He's dressed well, in a white collared shirt and black pants. He smiles cheerily, widening the door so you can step inside. You thank him when he wordlessly mentions for your coat. 

Your eyes catch the living room, along with the coffee table. There'd been a half-eaten birthday cake the last time you'd been here. Now the table is completely clean. You wonder what Satoru had done with it. You hoped he threw it away because the thought of him sitting there, alone, finishing the pastry filled you with so much guilt you could almost feel sick. 

"Did you see the weather just an hour ago?" He asks offhandedly, "thought the rain would smash through my windows, from how loud it was." 

"Oh?" You ask genuinely because you honestly hadn't noticed anything regarding the weather. You'd been stressing about the reunion, mind too preoccupied to care about the skies. 

"'hope the violets survived. I just planted 'em yesterday." He glances out the window as though he could see through the sheets of rain. You hum, already feeling out of place. The silence is only accompanied by the rain lightly patting on the windows. 

"You still love him." When you don't answer right away, Satoru turns back. "That Zenin guy. You love him." 

It catches you so off guard that you can't help but tell the truth. You nod once. 

He's still smiling, but the air feels off somehow. Like you're passing unmarked territory. It's a silly thought, and you brush it off immediately. Despite how strained your relationship is currently, Satoru isn't dangerous. He never will be. 

"Yeah," he responds, "I just don't get why, y'know?" 

You try to smile, but it's like pulling teeth. "I-I don't see how-" 

"It just doesn't make sense. You and him, I mean. You two are so different." 

You couldn't argue with that. Toji and you were on opposite ends. He was from a world that you would never be able to reach, let alone touch. You were a regular woman. He was a man who fought curses on a regular basis. A man who died from it. 

Satoru's laughing; it takes you a moment to realize you might have said some of that out loud. 

"Right. Fuck I keep forgetting that's what I told you." Satoru leans against the counter. "A special grade killed Zenin." 

"I mean, technically, I didn't lie, right? A special grade did kill him. A special grade sorcerer." 

Your brain stops. You can only stare. Satoru reaches up, taking off his glasses, folding them before neatly placing them on the counter. His eyes were always so breathtaking; now they look empty. Soulness. 

You laugh. It sounds delirious. "But-but you said you were one of the only special grade sorcerers around." 

"Yeah." Satoru nods along. 

"Satoru...you're not making any sense..." 

"Really?" Satoru tilts his head. "What part of 'I killed your husband' is confusing for you?" 

He continues at your silence. "I mean, it wasn't like it wasn't for a good reason. The guy shot a junior high girl for cash. Knowing him, he's probably done worse. If you're asking me, I did a good thing by killing him--oh." Satoru pauses at your expression: horrified, broken.

He's smiling. You think that's the worst part. It's the same smile he's always worn. Playful and mischievous. 

"C'mon, you seriously didn't know what he was up to. I can't tell whether you're that stupid or if he was that good at hiding it." 

You should have denied it. You should have said Toji would never do the heinous act Satoru just accused him off, but can you? Could you honestly say that? You knew Toji was in bad shit. You'd always known that. He told you about the gambling, the drugs, the money. After he married you, he promised he walked away from that life, he was walking away with you. One last job, he'd said. Just one last job and he was done forever. 

Something that goes beyond money, Toji had said, something you would never understand. 

You can hardly breathe, sinking against the wall behind you as you collapse onto the floor. Your hands are pressed against your mouth, muffling your sobs as your eyes are filled with tears. Every interaction you've ever had with Toji is flitting through your mind. You can feel the bile in your stomach, threatening to leave your lips, splatter across the floor. 

Your husband was a murderer. 

Your husband was a monster. 

His fingers are cold as he firmly pushes your hands away from your face. You glance up. Satoru stares right back. His smile is gone, replaced by a frown. He squats before you, idly tracing his pointer figure around your cheeks, catching your falling tears. 

"He took everything from me, y'know," he says, quiet, low enough that the rain almost drowns his voice, "in just a day, my entire life changed. Someone died. A person I thought would be by my side my entire life disappeared." 

"But, I gotta' thank him. Without his help, I wouldn't have become stronger, and I wouldn't have you." 

You suck in a breath at that, but Satoru isn't paying attention. His hand traces down to your neck, feeling the skin. 

"I like to think that he gave me you as an apology of sorts. It's nice to think of it that way, right?" 

You look at him, absolutely horrified at how casual he was being. 

Your husband was a monster. 

And he’d left you with another one. 

Immediately, you slap his hands away. 

"Stop." You say, a weak hiss, "don't-don't touch me. Never ever touch me-" 

"Yeah," he interrupts, ignoring your wavering voice, "I didn't think you would jump into my arms after what I said, either. But, hey, a guy can dream, right?" 

What? And before you can think, he's pressing his lips against yours. 

It's not like his first kiss. Before, when it was soft and sweet and he barely pushed, like he was savoring you. This kiss was harsh. Filled with teeth and lust and endless greed. You can taste the inexperience, and the thought that this might be the second time Satoru’s ever kissed someone fills your head. The fight is almost pathetic as you sink into his hold, helpless to do anything but wilt until he's had enough of his fill. You push against his chest, but he only leaves on his terms.

You're both panting, but you're more frazzled. His lips are blushing pink, and there's a string of saliva that stretches before snapping apart. You can feel the way his hands are positioned on your hips. Disgust and self-hatred wells up within you.

"I meant what I said that day: I love you." You squeeze your eyes at his confession. "I mean, what's there not to love? You're sweet; you're hot."

His hands play with the hem of your shirt. You stiffen as you try to claw them off of you, but it doesn't help. You don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. It's morbid curiosity. Looking at a car crash. Your eyes open and you stare at Satoru. 

"But I think the thing I love about you the most is that you'll never hate me." 

Two glowing blue eyes stare back at you. He looks ethereal like this. Even when he's kneeling, he's still taller than you. He's always been above you. Not just in height, you're slowly starting to realize. 

You always thought Satoru hated his last name. You always thought he blamed his lineage for his loneliness, his isolation. He grew up too fast, forced to become something for the sake of others. It's why you tried so hard to treat him like an equal, as though he were another human. 

When he leans in to kiss you again, you finally understand that Gojo never wanted to part from his last name. Why would he? It was always a part of him. It was your fault for trying to humanize and connect with him. You fought for years to see him as an equal that you neglected to ask if he even wanted to be on the same plane as you. 

Perhaps, once he did. Back when candlelight illuminated his face. When chocolate was the only thing you could taste.

"You can't hate me." He smiles against your lips. "You feel too sorry for me." 

"No matter what I do to you, you'll never hate me." 

You start crying again. Satoru hushes you, wiping away your tears in a way that suggests he's not used to being soft and delicate. Yet, he's trying to be. Soon, his gentleness fades, and his impatience seeps in again. It's all too easy for Satoru to haul you to your feet. He was the strongest, after all. You struggle anyway because you're human and your heart is filled with foolish hope. He laughs at your meager attempts to push him away, and you feel that this is all a game for him. Maybe it always was. 

"Satoru-Satoru," you're begging as he pulls you through his empty house, "you don't have to do this. Please just-" 

"See? You still aren't getting it." Satoru sighs, like he's disappointed before he's tossing you in a room. You flail against the bed, your chest pressed against the cushions before he's flipping you onto your back. It's worse when he's hovering over you, both hands on either side of your head, caging you in. 

"I'm not doing anything I don't want to do. I never have." 

You expect Satoru to kiss you again, that disgusting display where he rips you apart with his teeth, consuming you whole. Instead his pretty blue eyes flit to your clenched hand. He snatches up your wrist, easily unfurling your hand.

You react too late, only reaching up to stop him when he’s done pulling the ring off your finger. Satoru barely gives it an unimpressed look before he’s tossing it aside. You can only stare in the direction of it, watching as the last thing you had of him drops into the darkness. There’s two metallic clinks before it’s rolling to a stop. And then, you hear nothing.

He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“I was so sick of looking at that.” He mumbles into your skin, giving it a playful nip. “Parading that thing around in front of another man like that. It’s kinda’ rude, y'know?”

You give another sob when his hands dig underneath your shirt. He presses on the softness of your belly, burying his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans into your neck. You can feel something press against your thigh.

You know what he was planning on doing, he made it clear ever since he dug himself into your skin with fangs. But the evidence. The hands twitching up your shirt, groping and feeling. The bulge grinding against your thigh

You can’t fight him, you stopped trying. Instead, you clench your fists again, letting the last of your tears drip down your face, praying and praying that what Satoru said wasn’t true.

Satoru isn’t nice to your clothes. You don’t know why you thought he ever would be. When he’s done with feeling and not looking, he pushes your shirt up, letting it catch just over the swell of your chest. He’s pushing your bra down, leaning down to trace your skin with his hot, wet tongue.

You jolt at the contact. It’d been so long since you’ve last been touched. He’s barely done anything and yet you’re already so sensitive. Something between a gasp and a moan is pulled out of your lips when Satoru swirls his tongue around your nipple, before he takes it fully in his mouth.

He’s tasting you, savoring you in a way you’d only seen him do for his cherished candy. He’s messy with it too, drool and spit spilling onto your skin, making you feel even colder than you already were.

Satoru has never stopped with just one candy, has he? He’s greedy, popping another and another in his mouth until the bag is all empty. It’s his natural essence to take until there’s nothing left. That’s why his hand trails down to your skirt, pushing it down before you can even decipher what he wants next from you.

You gasp when his hand presses against your panties, pushing them between your folds. The fabric lightly brushes against your clit, not enough for you to have any kind of relief. Still, a tingle jolts up your back.

“You’re soaked!” Satoru’s exclaiming. His voice comes out in the form of a laugh, light and innocent. It hurts to hear him sound like that. You have no more tears to cry again.

You want to tell him that it wasn’t you, that you don’t want him, that it’s just your body, but you doubt he cares about any of that. He pushes your panties down, letting them sit against your thighs before he’s pushing a finger deep into your wet pussy.

You can’t stop the noises this time. It’s more of a yelp than a moan, but Satoru takes it in stride as he continues to finger fuck you. When he digs a second finger into your hole, there’s a wet squelch of a sound. You have to turn away, but you can feel his smile against your skin. Victorious.

His other hands comes, pushing in between your breasts to keep you on the bed as he plants butterfly kisses down your ribs, your stomach, your hips, all the way down until he’s practically on his knees.

You were right to assume his inexperience. He’s sloppy, spreading his saliva and your wetness all over your pussy. There’s no rhythm, no clear pattern as he’s trying everything at once--swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit before licking his way into your hole.

And yet, it’s working. Your battered cunt responds to his enthusiasm, and your walls squeeze his fingers.

You can’t stop your noises. You don’t think he’s trying to stop his. His voice is muffled by your pussy, but he’s moaning and groaning so loudly. You think he’s saying something, but you can hear anything over the wet sounds of your cunt, the throbbing between your ears.

Your orgasm was inevitable, but you’re still surprised when it hits. Ramming into you like a train. Your back arches, and your thighs are involuntarily squeezing Satoru’s head. Keeping him there.

There’s a hum of satisfaction coming from him, but he doesn’t pull away. He folds your thighs, pushing them up into your chest so he can get more access to your pussy, sucking even harder on your clit. You were so far out of it that you can barely remember that this isn’t for you. It’s all for him. Satoru is greedy. It’s his natural essence to take and take until you’re nothing more than an empty bag, once filled with something sweet.

He doesn’t stop until you’ve come around his fingers and tongue a second time, when your cries are on the brink of overstimulation. When Satoru finally pulls away, the bottom half of his face is shiny. He keeps his eyes on you, messily wiping the remnants of you off his face before his leaning forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.

Unlike you, he doesn’t bother undressing himself. He’s unraveling his belt from his waist, pushing his pants down enough that he’s able to untuck his cock from his briefs. He’s already hard, giving his dick two cursory pumps before he’s settling his on either side of your body, keeping you there.

He’s big. Big enough that you worry he might actually succeed in breaking you. A semblance of rebellion, motivated by fear than anything else, stirs inside you. You push yourself up, elbows pressing against the mattress before he’s ending it.

There’s a grin, a flash of teeth, before he’s roughly pushing you down again.

“Satoru-“You start, you beg.

“Shut it,” he says, his smile too dangerous to be friendly, “if it isn’t begging me to fuck you, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

As though he’s taking the sight in himself, he hovers over you. The light from the window gently caresses his face in an angel kiss. His white hair is almost like halo, swathing him in an innocent shade of beauty.

When Satoru sinks his cock deep inside of you, you wonder if he’s defiling you or himself.

Just like before, he doesn’t bother letting you acclimate. He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t hold off. You can’t expect him too. Your pussy is squeezing him, edging him on. How could you expect him to not take it as a challenge and fuck you the way he’s dying to?

It’s exactly what he does as he bullies his cock deep inside your walls again and again. He whimpers, high and pitchy before he’s leaning down to bite and lick at your neck, your chest, leaving your skin with marks and bruises that will last for days.

Satoru loses his sharpness the more he’s inside of you. You cry when he leans down, circling his thumb across your clit.

“So good,” he’s mumbling into your sweaty skin, like a mantra, “so good so good. You’re so good. I love you I love you I love you-“

It’s torture to hear him say that over and over again and a part of you tries to force yourself to think of someone else to give you comfort. Scarred lips. Thick black hair.

You can’t.

Satoru has taken away everything, even your dreams.

There’s another gasp before he’s harshly gripping on your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are blown open, wide and manic.

“Say my name,” he’s begging but his grip is too tight to be anything but an order, “I-I need you to-fuck-say my name.”

“Sa-Satoru.” He lurches at that, almost collapsing into your chest.

“Again.”

“Satoru,” and then you say it again and again and again because your brain’s too muddled to do anything but listen to him.

His thumb is moving faster and faster on you clit, his thrusts are getting sloppier.

“Gonna-gonna fill you up,” An alarm of panic ring as he’s blabbering, words stilted and strained, “I gotta’—I just gotta’, can’t think of ‘nothing else—fuck fuck.” He adjusts your legs, folding your body in half so he can push that much deeper inside of you.

He smiles again. Wild. Unhinged. The monsoon that is Gojo Satoru. If you won’t wash away with him, then he is more than happy to drown you in his rain.

“Fuck,” he curses again, his voice a mix of a laugh and a groan, “think the kid would like a younger sibling?”

You can barely process his words. You don’t think Satoru could process his either. His orgasm triggers your own, and you’re both tipping over the edge together. His cum fills your pulsing cunt, searing your insides with white heat.

Satoru collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress of expensive sheets. You two stay like that, just the sounds of your harsh breathing fills the room. Satoru gives a shaky kiss on your lips, just as sweet and chaste as the first time.

He stays there for another minute, before he’s pushing himself up again. You can’t understand what he’s doing until you realize he’s still hard inside of you.

“Satoru—” it’s a plea, your voice overwrought with exhaustion, “Don’t—"

“One more, ‘kay?” he slurs, pushing his cock as deep as it could get inside of you, “Just—Just one more.”

You wake up hours later. It's pitch-black, the lights are gone. Distantly, you can feel Satoru's hand curled around your waist. He'd fallen asleep with his head buried in your neck. You can feel his rhythmic breathing against your skin. Outside, the rain beats on the windows, and thunder rattles in the sky. 

You wait for it—the anger, the hatred—for yourself to hate Gojo Satoru. 

He was right. Nothing came. 

#yandere jjk #yandere #yandere gojo satoru #dark content #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru #afab reader #tw:noncon

[diejager]

Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Previous

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse. 

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs. 

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse. 

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped -  different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved. 

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well. 

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay. 

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades. 

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms? 

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times. 

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater. 

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed. 

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage. 

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh. 

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home? 

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father. 

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake. 

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had. 

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat. 

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in. 

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word. 

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt. 

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it. 

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container. 

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed. 

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge. 

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial. 

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. 

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes. 

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart. 

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you. 

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway. 

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped? 

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier. 

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you. 

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something. 

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you. 

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him. 

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence. 

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him. 

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving. 

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten. 

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon. 

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking. 

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it. 

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man. 

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him. 

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency. 

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there. 

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more. 

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply. 

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything. 

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves. 

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were. 

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -  he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place. 

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him. 

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive. 

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern. 

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights. 

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you. 

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly. 

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else. 

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making. 

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.” 

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance. 

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed. 

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love. 

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness. 

My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:

@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara angst #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv #atvs spoilers #spiderman 2099 x reader #accross the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #x reader #angst

[bettyfrommars]

Eddie Munson AU Masterlist

18+ONLY

Series:

I'm on Fire - completed - Eddie & Steve grew up in the biker life. Now, Steve has a son he raises with Robin and Eddie feels lost until he finds you.

vampire!Eddie - ongoing - a True Blood au: you are a drifter who ends up living in a trailer park full of vampires, and Eddie is your neighbor.

nightmare!Eddie - ongoing - Eddie has a crush on you, but the only way he can communicate is through your nightmares.

stop the world and melt with you - ongoing - one second, you're crying in your car in 2023, the next you're in a town that resembles the 1980's

Dirty Metal Summer - new - a Dirty Dancing au

Oneshots:

whole lotta love - Eddie give reader her first orgasm

vacancy - a dystopian romance, possible series

sympathy for the devil - demon!reader and 90's grunge!eddie

the drifter - it's been over a decade since Eddie survived The Upside Down, and he's been on the road ever since, trying to outrun his demons.

darkSiren!eddie - merman!Eddie washes up on shore and falls in love with you.

wolfman!eddie - inspired by the original Wolfman, Eddie asks you to lock him in his hotel room during a full moon

waste away with me - older!reader car sex at the trailer park

big gulp - Eddie x fem!Reader - Eddie loves being in your mouth, even when he is pressed for time and about to play a gig at The Hideout.

in the closet - Eddie x fem!Reader - You think you can't stand Eddie Munson, until you get stuck in a closet with him.

invisibleMan!eddie - your boyfriend Eddie took an experimental drug to get some extra cash, and now he's invisible. Mirror sex smut.

on your knees - mechanic!eddie has had a crush on you for a while but doesn’t make his feelings known until he sees you out with another guy

playgirl!eddie - Eddie gets naked for a photoshoot and the two of you can't keep your hands off each other

bmovie!drive-in!Eddie - a friends to lovers evening in October when Eddie finally makes his move

Ready, Steddie, Go - biker!tattooed!Steddie smut

boyfriend!eddie - a lil intimate blurb of sex after a long day

The Crocodile - rockstar!Eddie x Reader (very first fic I ever posted to this app 🙃)

Monsters & Nightmares

back to Main

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader

[alienguts]

Bruce + Bookworm S/O (Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader HCs)

Warnings: none

A/N: just a little something i thought of while at work. Part 4 of Picking Up the Pieces is still in the works!

Despite being someone who has No Spare Time™, Bruce is very well read.

He was reading the classics by the time he was ten years old, so he's got the reading skills and the literary chops, he just doesn't have a lot of time.

While his favourite titles are by authors like Charles Dickens or Sun Tzu, he doesn't know a lot about modern authors.

Sure, he knows who Stephen King is, but he doesn't know Stephen King.

He's been asked at charity events for schools and libraries what he thinks of recent releases, and while he tries to have at least a vague idea of what's the hottest thing, he usually has a default answer.

Depending on what mood he's in, he either refers back to the classics, or plays on the 'dumb playboy' persona and says that he hasn't read a book since high school.

When he found out that you were a huge bookworm, he tried to become more knowledgeable about modern literature.

You likely met in a bookstore that he took Damian to and struck up a conversation with you over a book that you were reading the back of.

You'd noticed him numerous times while browsing and often overheard the store's staff talking about Bruce Wayne and his pushy son, but you never thought that he would ever talk to you.

Your first date was, of course, in the bookstore's café and he treated you to whatever you wanted, including books.

You didn't want to push your chances with him, but he was happy to get you that special cloth bound edition that you thought you wouldn't be able to afford.

The study is your favourite room in the entire Manor, and he learnt that quickly.

You get to have a Beauty and the Beast library in real life, things don't get better than that!

Most of the books there are old editions or academic journals that have been accumulated in the 100+ years people have lived in the Manor.

Eventually, some colour will be incorporated into the shelves and there will be an eclectic mix of covers in amongst all the brown spines.

There are times when Bruce has come home very late from a gala or from patrol and found you still awake, reading in bed.

"Sweetheart, I think you should get some sleep now." "Just let me finish this chapter first."

God help him if he ever tries to take a book out of your hands.

He's fought gods, monsters, serial killers, and weird giant crocodile men but he wouldn't even think about taking a book from you while you're reading.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanons #batman x reader #batman x you #batman imagine #batman headcanons #dc x reader #dc x you #dc imagine #dc headcanons #gender neutral reader #x reader #self ship #*headcanons #*my writing

[alexa-fika]

New Portraits ( Mihawk x male!winged!child x Crocodile)

A/N: Kind of a request but not really? Mixed from these two comments/asks from @imaginarydreams and @spiderman-er the latter which came from Minawk’s opla actor and his daughter reacting to the Crossguild poster in https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8pcqLww/ yall din’t think this was coming did you XD, I DID NOT BRUSH IT OFF SPIDER, DIN’t FORGET IMAGINARY, I WAS JUST COOKING. And also part 2 to New beginnings which was an ask of @🐼 💕, just realized I got the wrong pronouns in the first one, fixed it in this one and will go back to fix the other one shortly!

Dividers by @/saradika

Reader looked around the offices, still exploring the headquarters and their new home

He was more or less used to the place, his father’s new coworkers, if one could call the second one a co-worker.

He had seen Crocodile a few times; the man seemed scary, but after being raised by someone like Mihawk, Crocodile was not that big of a personality shock, and his father seemed to hold the man with respect with was no easy feat, so he often approached the former-warlord much to his chagrin.

However, with the passing days, he had become more used to the boy’s interactions and growing a soft spot for the winged boy.

As Reader continued exploring, he spotted a poster with some familiar faces on it; he gently picked the paper up, tilting his head, confused until a smile grew on his face as he took off running towards where he knew his father probably found himself at occasionally flapping his wings to fasten his pace.

“Papa! Uncle Crocodile!”

Both former warlords turn to face the child running over to them; Crocodile with a frown while Mihawk with just welcomes him with a raised brow at his sudden entrance.

"Hm?" Mihawk said, his expression softening at the sight of his child.

He climbs the sofa they both sat in with a small flap of their wings

“Look!Look!” He says, waving the poster

“Hm? What is it?” Crocodile asked, leaning back on the sofa.

Mihawk raises a brow once again, leaning forward with his interest piqued by what this sudden outburst might be about.

“Papa and Uncle Crocodile are in it!” He said cheerily

"Let me see that," Mihawk said curiously, leaning over to take a glimpse at what the child was talking about, his eyes scanning the Poster for a few seconds.

“Crocodile…It seems the clown decided to assign himself as our boss,” he said, handing the Crossguild poster to Crocodile

"Oh?" Crocodile growled; he quickly snatched the paper up, frowning as he promptly went over the contents of the paper.

He did not look too pleased…

“That useless clown, im going to skin him alive,” he growls, putting the poster down and shooting up from the Sofa, glancing back at Mihawk,

“I will bring the idiot here; it seems we need to set some things straight,” he said, leaving the room stopping before he left

“Thank you for showing us the poster Reader.” He grunts as he leaves the room leaving a confused Reader behind

Mihawk sighs, grabbing the poster and beckoning the child closer

The child switches his glance from the door Crocodile had just stomped out of to his dad, smiling and fluttering into his lap

Mihawk chuckles softly, gently embracing the child in his arms as the child rests in his arms, his head leaning against the swordsman's chest.

“Who’s this?” he said, pointing at the Sand-Man

“It’s a Crocodile!”

Mihawk chuckled, giving the child a slight tap on his head with his finger.

“Yeah, and who’s that?” he said, pointing at the blue-haired man at the center of the poster

“The clown!”

“And who’s that?” he said, pointing to the last figure on the poster

“It’s Dada!”

He chuckles slightly at his son’s enthusiasm at being able to identify him successfully

He ruffled the child’s hair.

Both their heads turn toward the door at the sound of Crocodile walking in, in one hand, he held the body of Buggy, which he threw in front of the sofa, and in his other hand, he held the head of said man, as he cried and plead for them to spare him

Mihawk’s eyebrow lifted, and he slowly sat up, carefully placing the child on the ground; his face now held an irked expression

“Reader, could you wait in your room? We have some matters to attend to.”

The boy nodded slowly exiting the room with haste

Something about these two men, or grumpy men interacting with a child in general just makes me burst 🥹 Also kinda of sudden ending there but it just made the most sense to me

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x child!reader #one piece fluff #one piece imagine #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x child!reader #mihawk x child!reader #sir crocodile x child!reader #sir crocodile x y/n #crocodile x y/n #cross guild #sir crocodile x you #crocodile x you #cross guild x reader #sir crocodile x reader #one piece x male reader #one piece x masc reader #mihawk x male reader #mihawk x male!reader #crocodile x male reader

[turtletaubwrites]

One Shots & Requests Masterlist

18+ ONLY. MDNI. SOME FICS CONTAIN DARK CONTENT. Currently writing for One Piece. All of these fics are NSFW and Fem!Reader unless marked otherwise. Content warnings and Ao3 links can be found on each post. This post updates frequently! Check out the main masterlist for completed and ongoing series, as well as WIP updates and announcements! One shots related to the poly fic We've All Got Needs can be read on their own, and are marked with a 💜

Ace 

The Only One I Want ~ (1657) ~ You have a delicious dream about a certain swordsman. Your boyfriend, Ace, is not pleased when you wake up. (Brief Zoro x Fem!Reader in a dream.)

My Pretty Little Thief ~ (2004) ~ Ace knows where he left his hat. But when it's not there, he hunts it down, only to discover the culprit. How can he convince the thief to return his precious hat?

Buggy 

You’d Do Anything For Me, Wouldn’t Ya, Doll? ~ (2104) ~ You are Captain Buggy’s Vicious Dagger, his blade tossing beauty that recently became his lover. You’d do anything for him, and tonight you prove it.

Crocodile

Wrong Side of the Bars ~ (3990) ~ Your promotion landed you in hell, otherwise known as Level 6 of Impel Down. All you wanted to do was work this shit job so you could move on up, but there's one prisoner that won't leave you alone. It turns out those long nights go by faster with a bit of company.

Cross Guild 

Numbers Game ~ Masterlist ~ (Oops. Turned into a series.) ~ You left your stable/boring life as an investment banker to have some adventure. Unfortunately, that sweet Warlord of the Sea didn't follow your financial advice, and now you and your clown are at the mercy of his biggest lender and his new business partner.

Katakuri

Sweet Abduction ~ (4084) ~ Part 2 ~ (2175) ~ Part 3 (End) ~ (3781) ~ Times are tough, and you're afraid you'll have to give up the family business, until you find people who cherish your work. Who knew making doughnuts would gain you the attention of an Emperor of the Sea, and her second son? Will your new life be as sweet as it seemed?

More fics below the cut 🖤

Law 

See How You Like It ~ (1927) ~ Law is back from another fiasco with the Straw Hats. You think he's cute when he's grumpy. He thinks you should have some more respect for your captain.

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist ~ (Oops. Turned into a series. Completed) ~ !! YANDERE!Law x Fem!Reader !! DARK CONTENT !! ~ You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Misty Eyes ~ Masterlist ~ (Oops. Turned into a series. Ongoing) ~ (Includes Doflamingo x Fem!Reader in the past & flashbacks) !! DARK CONTENT !! ~ You were the weakest member of the Donquixote Family, so Doflamingo found another way you could serve him. Until your childhood crush found you, freeing you from those chains. What will Law expect in return?

Such a Softie ~ (461 ~ Drabble) (SFW) (GN!Reader) ~ Law is struggling to help you with your pain, until he has an idea. This is the coziest treatment you've ever received.

Luffy

My Favorite Kinds of Nights 💜 ~ (2375) ~ Part 2 ~ (3625) ~ You are enjoying a quiet moment away from the feast while the crew celebrates another victory. Your three partners, Robin, Sanji, and Zoro are occupied for the evening, so you take time to relax. Until you receive an unexpected request from your captain.

Multi and/or Character x Character

Same Time ~ (1123) ~ Zoro x Fem!Reader x Sanji ~ Your boyfriends are always arguing, but sometimes you're the one that wins the fight. Tonight the battle is for who gets to go first.

So What? ~ (SFW) ~ (1096) ~ Zoro x Sanji ~ An enemy catches Zoro eying Sanji in the middle of a fight. Zoro doesn't care, until they make the mistake of threatening the cook.

One Piece x Introverted!Reader (SFW) ~ Headcanons & Drabbles ~ Zoro, Sanji, and Robin

The Sounds You Made 💜 ~ (1422) ~ Sanji x Fem!Reader, Zoro x Fem!Reader ~ Sanji overhears you discussing and enjoying your casual arrangement with Zoro. He doesn't like the way Zoro talks to you, so he listens in to make sure you're okay.

Lucky Boy 💜 ~ (2561) ~ Sanji x Robin ~ Robin and Sanji have been dating you for a while, but tonight is their first date together. How will the cook and the archaeologist get along?

In Control ~ 💜 (2599) ~ Zoro x Robin ~ Robin and Zoro have been dating you for a while, but tonight is their first date together. How will the swordsman and the archaeologist get along?

You Never Shut Up, Do You? 💜 ~ (1323) ~ Zoro x Nami ~ Nami has watched you enjoy your poly relationships with Zoro and Sanji for a while. She's got an itch that needs scratching, and she decides to see if Zoro can help her out.

I Saw You First 💜 ~ (1451) ~ Part 2 ~ (1309) ~ Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader ~ You have a casual arrangement with Zoro, but he isn't happy that you'll be seeing Sanji tonight. He tries to get his mind off of things, but overhears you enjoying your time with the cook. Can he control his anger?

Touching What's Yours 💜 ~ (815) ~ Part 2 ~ (2344) ~ Part 3 ~ (6048) ~ Zoro x Sanji, Zoro x Fem!Reader x Sanji ~ You have a casual arrangement with Zoro, but he isn't happy that you had your first night with Sanji tonight. Zoro overheard some of your time together, and his rage kept him from sleeping. Instead, Zoro has gone to confront the cook for taking what's his.

Sanji 

Sleeping Beauty 💜 ~ (2646) ~ Your boyfriend has yet another kink he'd like to explore with you. You tell Sanji that you trust him to take care of you, even while you're sleeping.

Filthy Little Angel 💜 ~ (1323) ~ Sanji requests to try a new way to worship your body. You know your boyfriend will take good care of you.

Parted Lips (SFW) ~ (1734) ~ Sanji has made another meal just for you, but it's still too painful to eat. You open up to Sanji about your jaw pain, and he offers to help you work through it.

Sanji's Super Birthday Present 💜 ~ (988) ~ Part 2 (End) ~ (1105) ~ You work up the nerve to ask Franky for help with a gift for Sanji. You hope your birthday boy will like his new toy.

Gag Order ~ (3268) ~ You catch your boyfriend flirting with another woman, and you can't stop your worries. Until you decide to use your talents as a hypnotist to make sure you're the only one Sanji flirts with. He told you he only wants to be with you, so what's the harm in helping him keep that promise?

Shanks

A Good Catch ~ (4367) ~ Part 2 ~ (5030) ~ Part 3 ~ (4613) ~ Part 4 (End) ~ (4275) ~ You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Zeff

My Lovely Patron ~ (1300) ~ Part 2 ~ (1922) ~ You are a journalist following a story about fishmen attacking a floating restaurant. You try to ply the head chef with wine for some details, but end up getting something else instead.

Zoro

Just a Dream ~ (1288) ~ You have a delicious dream about your captain's brother. Your boyfriend, the first mate, is not pleased when you wake up. (Brief Ace x Fem!Reader in a dream)

Hogging the Blankets 💜 ~ (1210) ~ Zoro hogged the blankets, so you try to wake him. He tells you what you need to do now that you've woken him up.

Fighting Dirty 💜 ~ (2341) ~ You can’t help it when you get distracted by Zoro during training sessions, so he brings the sparring mats to the bedroom to teach you a lesson.

Mama Bear ~ (2606) ~ (Modern AU) ~ You're a gogo dancer, and you bring Zoro to a rave on your night off, wanting to show your boyfriend what that part of your life is like. Zoro can't help but notice how much you like to take care of people, and he has some thoughts on the matter.

Zoro x GN!Swordsman!Reader (with a powerful/unique sword) (SFW) ~ Headcanons & Drabble

A Swordsman's Shame ~ (SFW) (GN!Reader) ~ (1530) ~ You and Zoro have the same dream, and it's built a passion between you. But something has been holding you back, keeping you from opening yourself up to your crewmate, your rival, your fellow swordsman.

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[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xv - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,300+

Warnings: violence, suggestions of sexual assault

masterlist

Feyre watched her boys from across their breakfast nook. Nyx was babbling happily in his father’s arms. His wings were now strong enough to reflect his emotions. They flapped lightly when he was happy – like now. They sagged when he was sad or tired. And they folded tight against his back when he was angry. 

Rhys was feeding him patiently as he tried to also read reports that Azriel had dropped off late last night. 

She should’ve known something was going to ruin their peaceful morning. 

The front door being thrown open was so loud that they didn’t even need their fae hearing to catch it. 

Cassian, Feyre and Rhysand both said into each other’s minds, while also sharing a look. Only the giant Illyrian would be so noticeably loud with his entrance. 

They heard every one of his steps as he marched his way towards them. 

To their surprise, Cassian opened the door to show that Azriel had been right on his heels.

“What is it?” Rhys asked seriously, knowing from their expressions alone that something was very wrong. 

“Y/N is gone,” Cassian answered hurriedly. 

“Gone?” Feyre repeated. She and Rhys both stood from their seats. 

Nyx eyes sensed his parent’s tension and whined in his father’s arms, eyes filling with crocodile tears.

“Her room was empty when I went to escort her to her shop this morning,” Cassian explained. “Drawers were left open and her belongings were strewn about. She packed lightly, left almost everything behind.” 

“Her shop hadn’t been opened for the day. Her scent was nowhere to be found there,” Azriel chimed in. 

“We’ve searched all of Velaris,” Cassian added.

Rhys turned his attention to his Spymaster. “Azriel, I thought you had your shadows following her…” 

Azriel bowed his head with shame. “It’s as though she…vanished. She must have cast some sort of cloaking spell.” 

“Brother, can you hear her?” Cassian asked Rhys and then looked to Feyre for help on the matter as well. 

But Rhys shook his head before the question was even finished. “Once she understood our daemati abilities, I believe she created an amulet to block us.” He shrugged, “Evidently, it made her uncomfortable.” 

Cassian cleared his throat and took a step forward. “There’s something else you should know. But you must promise to control yourself.” 

Feyre took their son from her mate. 

Rhysand’s gaze darkened. “What happened?” 

But Cassian stood his ground. “Promise me.” 

“Fine,” Rhys cooly. “I promise.”

“Last night, Nesta told Y/N the truth about Eris.”

Feyre closed her eyes and let out a long, frustrated sigh. 

Nyx let out another whine, earning him a gentle kiss from his mother. 

“Did she tell her about the deal?” Rhys asked. 

Cassian shook his head. 

“But we should assume she still knows – with her ability to find out information the way that she does,” Azriel commented darkly. 

“Does my sister not understand the risk she took?” Feyre asked exasperated. “If something happens to Y/N while she is still within the border of Night Court, the blood oath could finally claim what its owed!” 

But to everyone’s surprise, Rhysand comforted his mate. “Y/N deserved to know the truth, Feyre darling.” 

“She most likely left last night,” Azriel added. “Which means she’s probably halfway to Day Court as we speak.” 

“She wouldn’t try the mountains,” Cassian thought aloud. “Probably stuck to the coast this entire time. Y/N would know that’s the safest route.” 

“Both of you, search the eastern shores,” Rhysand ordered. 

Suddenly, Nesta burst into the room, breathing heavily. “She bought two horses. A stableboy in the city told me she was there late last night and paid him in fine jewelry.” 

The males all shared a look. “If she’s on horseback, she is already in Day Court,” Cassian explained. 

Feyre let out a breath of relief. Fae bonds were specific and rigid things. Rhys had promised Y/N’s safety to Eris as long as she resided in Night Court.

But that didn’t mean Feyre was done worrying about Y/N.

“How do we know she’s heading south?” Nesta challenged. 

“The Mortal Lands are the only home she knows. That is where she will go,” Azriel explained quietly. 

Nesta’s gaze narrowed. “But what if she is going to Eris?” 

Feyre was the one who answered. “I don’t think she is, Nesta.” 

Nesta exhaled, knowing her sister was most likely right. To mortals, the mating bonds of fae felt…overwhelming and somewhat terrifying. All Y/N knew was that Eris felt something toward her, something that she was completely oblivious to. It could all be so confusing.  

“But what do we tell him?” Nesta asked. “What do we tell Eris?”

“We tell him nothing,” Rhysand answered curtly. “At least, not yet. We must search for her first. Otherwise, Eris could possibly lose all reason, and his father will surely be suspicious then.” 

“I’m going with Azriel and Cassian,” Feyre announced. 

“Elain and I will stay with Nyx,” Nesta announced. 

“I will send word to Helion,” Rhysand nodded. “He be wary that we are asking about a mortal. And he will annoy me with far too many questions. But we must risk it.” 

Everyone started to take their leave. 

Feyre slowly handed her son to Nesta. “For what it’s worth, I believe you did the right thing telling her. I just wish you would have come to us first.”

Nesta scoffed. “All of you would have only tried to stop me.” 

And perhaps she was right. 

“Now, go and help them find her.” Nesta nodded towards the front door that her mate and Azriel had just left through. 

But once she was alone with her nephew, Nesta began to wonder: what would they do once they found Y/N? Drag her back to Night Court? Clearly, Y/N had no desire to be here any longer. So, would they force her back? Truly make her a prisoner? 

Cauldron, what must Y/N think of all of them now?

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

One Week Later…

Eris had felt a weight in his stomach that had been making him nauseous for nearly a week now. 

Something wasn’t right. His heart told him it was Y/N. 

Eris noticed his mother’s concerned looks during the few times he’d been in the same room as her.

But his father had been keeping him so busy with last-minute commands that there was no way for Eris to sneak off to the Night Court to check on Y/N or even speak to his mother. 

Now he found himself in a rare moment alone in his chambers. And he couldn’t even find the patience to sit.

Instead, he paced back and forth beside the giant fireplace. 

It was storming outside, a common occurrence in Autumn Court. But as the night went on, the lightning and thunder became more frequent, more aggressive. What was it leading to? 

Eris tried to think of way to sneak off without Beron or his spies noticing. Dare he even risk such a thing when his father seemed hidebound on keeping him close. 

There was a tension beneath his skin, scrapping against bone and muscle. It left him restless. It left him aching. 

Something was coming – whether it was coming for him, Eris did not know. 

But he was pulled form him inner turmoil when a letter appeared out of nowhere and floated down, right before his very eyes. 

Eris swore his heart stopped. 

Surely whatever Rhysand had to say would answer this gnawing feeling Eris could not get rid of. Had Y/N been attacked again? Was she hurt? Had that bastard shadowsinger made her cry again?

Eris held his breath as he opened the letter from the High Lord. 

She knows. She knows who you really are to her. And she ran when she found out. We have been looking for her for a week. She must be cloaking herself. We expect that she is heading for the Mortal Realm. Eris, we need your help. She needs your help. 

Eris swore he saw red. 

Y/N knew. She knew and she ran. Why would she do such a foolish thing? She was safe in the Night Court. 

“Fools,” Eris hissed to himself as he scrunched up the paper in his fist and then lit it aflame, not releasing his grip until it was only ash. 

All of them were fools. 

What had they said o make her flee? She’d built a life for herself in Night Court. And she had abandoned it so swiftly. Was the thought of being his mate so horrific? Did Y/N think all of them would eventually force her to be with him? 

Eris’ mind raced with hundreds of questions. 

He had to join the search – immediately. 

Suddenly, someone knocked on his door. 

“Leave me be!” Eris growled. 

But they knocked again, even harder this time. 

Eris marched to the door, preparing to harm whoever dared disturb him. 

When he threw open the door, one of Beron’s most loyal advisors stood before him.

“What?” Eris hissed. 

“The High Lord requests your presence in the throne room, my lord.” 

“I must decline,” Eris forced the words out. 

To ignore his father’s request was to play a most dangerous game. 

“The High Lord will not except a declination.”

It was a warning. Eris understood that. 

What he was trying to figure out was how much he cared at this moment, when Y/N was treading through the most dangerous territory in the Fae Realms - alone! 

Eris snarled before physically shoving past the advisor so harshly that he almost knocked the male off his feet. 

Eris didn’t wait for his escort as he stomped to the throne room. 

Whatever his father wanted, hopefully it wouldn’t take long. Then Eris could flee and find Y/n. 

——

“Why do you act as if you are scared?” Amren asked Rhysand. 

The letter was sent. 

Soon Eris would know what became of his mate. 

And the Court of Dreams stood in the foyer of the River House, wracked with guilt and worry. 

“I do not fear Eris,” Rhysand corrected. “But you do not understand what this will do to him: to lose one’s mate. I only fear what this will do to him.”

“She isn’t dead,” Nesta corrected him harshly, her arms crossed. 

“We cannot be sure,” Feyre sighed shakily. 

“Y/N is not some weakly!” Nesta defended. “She survived on her own out there years before we ever met her. She’s a Valkyrie.” 

Feyre was wise enough to look guilty. She should’ve never doubted Y/N’s survival. 

“Will he come here? Eris?” Cassian asked. “Or will he go on his own hunt for her?” 

But before anyone could answer, all windows were thrown open. 

And a tornado flew in from outside. 

Rhysand went to stand beside Feyre. Cassian rushed to Nesta, blocking her from any attack. Amren and Azriel unsheathed hidden weapons. 

But no one stood before them. Only wind that roared so loudly, they were all forced to cover their ears.

It screeched so harshly, that all of them fell to their knees in pain. 

“Y/N NEEDS YOUR HELP! SHE IS IN GRAVE DANGER! GO! NOW! TO THE AUTUMN COURT! TO THE FOREST HOUSE!”

–––

Eris hid his surprise when he found that the throne room was filled with courtiers. It was far too late in the night for them to be in attendance. 

Then he caught sight of his three brothers. They all sneered at him, proving that they knew something he did not.

Now Eris understood his father planned to make a spectacle of him if his brothers had dropped their duties just to witness whatever this was. 

Everyone else refused to look him in the eyes as he arrived. They feared him nearly as much as they feared their High Lord. 

The High Lord who sat upon his throne with a wicked smile. 

Eris stepped forward, only stopping until he reached the bottom of the stairs that led to his father. He kneeled, and kneeled deeply. He had been whipped for less. 

It wasn’t until Eris peaked and saw his mother’s expression that he knew something terrible had happened. 

She knew how to school her features in front of Beron. She played her role well, and left nothing for others to be able to decipher. 

Eris rose from his bow. “You wished to see me, High Lord.”

Beron tilted his head to the side as he looked down at his eldest son. “You are in charge of guarding this court’s borders, are you not?”

Eris nodded, “I am, High Lord.” 

“Then why was it I who found a witch wandering through our woods?”

Eris swore his fire blood turned to ice. 

There were other witches in Prythian. It could be someone else. Please, let it be someone – anyone – other than her. 

“Witches are cunning creatures,” Eris began cooly. “It is not surprising that one could pass through Autumn Court undetected.”

Beron seemed amused by his son’s response. 

The High Lord snapped his fingers. 

As if on cue, lightning and thunder struck just a second after. 

And a door behind the throne opened. 

Eris had to stop himself from becoming feral when he saw her. 

Y/N was dripping wet, being dragged by two men as both her hands and feet were secured with iron chains that scrapped across the wooden floors. 

There were bloodied scrapes and cuts across her skin, right alongside dozens of bruises. And Eris could see all of them due to the fact that Y/N was only wearing a sheer, white slip. And it was just as drenched as the rest of her, making it completely transparent and practically exposing her nudity to the entire hall. 

If Eris unclenched the fists at his side, everyone would see that he was trembling with rage. 

The males dragged Y/N until she was also at the bottom of the stairs of Beron’s throne. And half a dozen surrounded her with their weapons drawn, showing that they all saw her as a threat. Then one kicked at the back of Y/N’s legs, forcing her to fall onto her knees and face all of Autumn Court. 

Y/N was now mere feet away from Eris. 

When she finally found the strength to raise her head, she locked eyes with her mate. She schooled her features well, not even slightly looking at Eris with any recognition. But he wondered if it was because she was in so much pain. 

Both nostrils of her nose were still bleeding. The right side of her lip was swollen and split. Her left eye was almost black and bruised. And there was a cut on the right side of her forehead that drew a line of bright red blood down the side of her face. 

Y/N had put up a fight, that much was clear. 

“Do you know what makes a witch powerless?” Beron asked casually. “Iron. Many have forgotten this weakness. But witches are powerless, unable to cast – so long as they are shackled with iron.”  

Eris’ jaw was clenched tightly to stop himself from saying anything at all. 

“Yes, it is been quite some time since I have fallen upon a witch,” Beron continued as he stood from his throne and stepped down. He didn’t stop until he was directly behind Y/N. 

Eris wanted to lunge forward when Beron took Y/N’s wet hair and pulled it behind her, exposing her shoulders and neck. 

Beron hand ghosted over Y/N’s neck and then he roughly gripped her chin from behind her. Y/N winced and closed her eyes. 

Eris could clearly see that she was shaking.

“Our ancestors once kept witches as their slaves. High Lords would use them for coitus rituals, on display for all the court to see. I have heard the power these High Lords felt from it was…euphoric.” 

Beron walked around so that he was in front of Y/N, blocking Eris’ view of her. 

“But this one…has already put up quite the fight. She took out ten of my company before they were able to finally seize her.” 

Beron was bating Eris. That was obvious. Which meant he had to know who Y/N was to him, what she meant. But Eris was still figuring out how. Surely his scent wasn’t on her. He hadn’t see in her weeks. 

Eris didn’t move a muscle and composed his face to remain neutral. But on the inside, a war was raging. His instincts were screaming at him to attack, to protect his mate and rip her far, far away from his treacherous father. 

But that was clearly what Beron wanted. 

And Eris refused to give it to him. Not like this. 

Beron walked around Y/N again until he was behind her. Gripping her right arm, he jerked Y/N to her feet, exposing her entire body that showed through her wet and thin underdress. 

“But she is rather stunning, is she not?” Beron asked as his hand gripped her bottom harshly. 

Y/N hissed and tried to lurch away, but Beron’s other hand choked her neck. 

Eris watched as Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Perhaps we should renew our ancestors practices,” Beron whispered into Y/N’s ear. 

“Beron, that is enough!”

Everyone’s eyes whipped to their Lady of Autumn. The woman who had become more and more broken the longer she stayed in this court. The woman who submitted to her husband and never spoke out of turn. 

Eris tried to give his mother a warning look, but she wasn’t looking at him. No, she was glaring at her husband. 

But Y/N saw this as a moment of distraction.

She brought Beron’s hand that rested around her neck to her mouth and bit – hard. Until she tasted blood. 

Beron howled in with fury and pain. 

Y/N whipped around and lifted her knee to his groin – despite her ankles being chained. Her strike had the High Lord keeled over. But only for a moment. 

“You stupid bitch!” And Beron backhanded her so hard that Y/N flew to the ground. 

But it got her away from him, and Eris had his window. 

Moving his hands, he gathered a ball of flame and threw it, knocking Beron yards back. When he landed, his head slammed back against the floor. 

But when Beron rose to his feet, he was laughing. “You were always pathetic.” The High Lord immersed his entire body in flames. “Do you really believe you stand a chance against me, boy?” 

Eris said nothing as he drew the sword at his side and it too ignited in flames. 

With the wave of his arm, Beron unleashed a monster from his flames – a dragon, made entirely of fire. It lunged for Eris with its jaw open. 

Now the courtiers wailed in fear, knowing their High Lord cared not for their lives and was more than willing to risk them as collateral damage. 

Eris sliced the fire dragon’s neck with his sword. 

But then a whip of fire wrapped around Eris’ throat, scorching the delicate skin. Out of instinct, he tried to rip it from his throat, which only resulted in burning his hands. 

Beron pulled the whip toward himself, forcing Eris onto his knees. 

“Do you wish to know how I realized that she meant something to you?” Beron spit as he leaned towards his son. 

One of his guards dropped a bundle on the floor to the right of Eris. It was the bow and knife Eris had gifted Y/N. But the thing that surprised Eris was his cloak, the one he had thrown over her shoulders that night he’d found her crying. She had been traveling with it? 

Beron leaned even closer. “Did you truly believe I would not recognize the work of our royal blacksmith?”

Eris roared as he unleashed a wave of his own power, breaking the fire whip his father controlled. It knocked Beron back far enough for Eris to regain his footing. 

Beron cackled as he brushed off the attack. “Tell me, boy. Is she your lover? Or did you plan on using the witch to usurp me?” 

Eris only glared, refusing to feed this taunting with any response. 

Beron stood straighter and opened his arms. “Go on. Try your best.” 

But before Eris could do so, the throne room was thrown into shadow. 

The courtiers wailed in fear:

“I can’t see!” 

“What is happening?” 

A second later the shadows dispersed to reveal that all of Beron’s guards who were guarding the exit had been slaughtered. 

And the High Lord’s evil smirk was finally wiped from his face. 

Eris turned to find Azriel, Cassian, Nesta, Vassa, Jurian, and his youngest brother, Lucien. 

With the understanding that he was no longer alone, Eris had a newfound strength. Even if he fell, they would get Y/N out of here. His life no longer mattered. Eris would either take out his father or distract him long enough to save his mate. 

Eris roared as he sent a wall of flames at Beron. 

Azriel shot for Y/N, taking out any guard that stood between them. When he reached her, his shadows made work of her shackles and broke her free. 

“Can you stand?” He rushed. 

“I can do more than stand,” Y/N growled, and she rushed for the weapons that had been stolen from her. 

She started firing arrow after arrow, killing all the males that had attacked her and dragged her here. 

Then she took in her chaotic surroundings to find Lucien, Vassa, and Jurian holding back the three other Vanserra brothers. Cassian and Nesta were back to back, taking out any soldiers loyal to Beron. Azriel was close to Y/N, covering her back as she had fired off her arrows. 

But then Y/N caught another head of red hair. A beautiful, female High Fae who was throwing flames at anyone that tried to help Beron take on Eris.

His mother. It must have been Eris’ mother. 

All of her allies allowed Y/N to turn her full attention to Eris who was fighting his father with his all power. But he still wasn’t strong enough. Beron was a High Lord and had all the ancient magic of Autumn Court behind him. 

With swipe of both Beron’s hands, a wall of fire smacked into Eris, who didn’t have time to block it. And he was knocked onto his back. 

The sight infuriated Y/N. 

And something deep within her, that she didn’t recognize, rose up to the surface. 

Before she even knew what she was doing, Y/N had sprinted forward and put herself between Eris and Beron. 

“No! Run! Get out of here!” Eris yelled out – no, he begged her – as he struggled to get back to his feet. 

But Y/N ignored him. Because something was taking her over. 

Y/N’s hands reached out to the side. 

She started chanting words that no mortal or fae would ever understand. 

Beron stood and watched, about to laugh at whatever sad attempt this witch had at taking him down. 

But Y/N’s words grew louder, stronger. 

And that’s when the wind rushed into throne room. 

It shattered the every single window with it’s arrival. It caused more screams from the courtiers who failed to flee.

Y/N’s eyes were no longer her own, but covered in white and glowing as if there were two moons.

Her arms raised higher. 

The wind carried the shattered glass from the windows and pelted Beron like tiny they were tiny knives. 

The High Lord underestimated her so much that he hadn’t been prepared to block such an attack.

He hissed in pain as the glass cut across his entire torso. 

But Y/N wasn’t finished. Her chanting turned into a bellow. The words and rhythm had changed into something else. 

In response, the wind now circled around Beron, capturing him in a tornado. But it wasn’t just keeping him in place, it was sucking the air from his lungs as if he was caught in a vacuum. 

Beron gasped for breath, clutching at his neck as if it would help. As he failed, he fell to his knees. 

And while Y/N attacked the High Lord, Eris, Lucien, and their mother had formed a wall behind her, waiting for the moment when Y/N would need backup. 

“NOW!” Eris bellowed. 

Together, the three of them stepped in front of Y/N and heaved fire onto Beron. It all entered the tornado of wind, keeping it contained and concentrated.  

Beron’s cries filled the hall, loud enough to be heard over the wind and tornado. Despite being a wielder of flame himself, it burned him. 

Yet Y/N was growing weaker, she had never tapped into this much power and it was starting to take a toll on her body. 

The other three didn’t see as Y/N’s arms dropped and her eyes rolled back. She collapsed. 

Azriel rushed forward, catching Y/N’s body only a moment before her head could slam to the ground. 

Eris roared as he threw even more fire at his father, stepping even closer to Beron than Lucien and his mother. 

Beron’s skin was scorched to black, half his clothes burnt right from his body. 

Lucien and their mother paused their attack, as Eris marched to his weakened father as he unsheathed a hidden knife. 

Not underestimating Beron or his power, Eris immediately grabbed his father by the neck and pulled him up. 

Eris put his mouth close to his ear and whispered, “Her name is Y/N, and she is my mate.” 

And he drove the knife into his father’s heart. 

Eris then ripped it from Beron’s chest. And with one fluid swing, sliced off Beron’s head completely.

Only mere seconds after the decapitated head hit the floor, raw power filled the throne room. So potent that all fighting ceased. No one could ignore its feeling. 

Beron’s loyal soldiers finally realized their High Lord had been killed. 

And all that power moved to the heir of Autumn. 

The impact of it brought Eris to his knees. He groaned as he felt it take over him entirely and then fell to his hands. 

No one so much as breathed as they saw their new High Lord take over the throne. 

When the power finally stopped transferring, Eris slowly lifted his head. 

His eyes widened. “Y/N!”

And he whipped around to see his mate unconscious and beaten, in the arms of the shadowsinger. 

-----

I have had a really terrible last couple of weeks at work. And then I got really sick, which is how I had time to write this. But most importantly, I worked extremely hard on this chapter. So please, please, please write a comment. Or, as I always say, write me a book report. 🙏

Chapter XVI

#gust & wind #acotar #a court of thorns & roses #lady of autumn #beron vanserra #autumn court #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #gust & wind chapter 15 #eris fic #eris vanserra fic

[unicreamuwu]

Sweet, Deadly Family (Yandere Charlotte Family x Child Daughter Reader) - Chapter 1

Warning: No warnings for now, but the only warning is that Big Mama would literally kill everyone, including her children, if reader isn't found in one day

"Where is she?! Where is she?!"

A booming voice called across the room. Servants and the Charlotte siblings quickly came inside the large pink bedroom.

"My baby! My beautiful baby girl! Where the hell is she?!"

"Mama! What happened?!" Oven asks in a panic tone.

Linlin turns to her son with an angry expression.

"Where's Y/N?! My beloved baby! Oh, my sweet, lovely baby Y/N!" she yells out in an angry, worried tone.

"Mama please, calm down! We can find her and bring her back, we promise!" Smoothie called out, trying to calm her down.

She turned around and glared at her children.

"If you don't find her the next day, I'll kill everyone in this island. Do you understand me?" she told them in a dark tone.

They all nodded and quickly left the bedroom to find their troublesome little sister.

~~~~~

The straw hats arrived at the Whole Cake Island and were looking around the filled sweets island.

Nami was scolding her teammates to stop getting distracted by almost everything they lay their eyes on.

However, when crossing a bridge, something was shaking beneath them. And underneath was an enormous crocodile coming out of the water. Luckily, the straw hats dodged the attack on time.

"Who are you, people?!"

A voice calls out to them.

The strawhats looked up to see a young girl whose hairstyle is tied into a ponytail. She was wearing a white dress with pink details on it and a big red heart on the center of the dress. Along with a pair of pink boots.

The girl was also wearing a pink helmet to cover her head.

The strawhats began to observe the little girl, following every detail on her. She doesn't look over than sixteen.

Before they could say anything else, a sound of bells could be heard from the distance that caught the young girl's attention.

"Crap. It's the search alert again."

She then turns to the strawhats with a stern look on her face.

"You guys are lucky that I didn't capture you guys yet."

The girl said before she ran off.

"Hey! Hold up!"

Luffy calls out to her, but she was already long gone.

~~~~~

The girl returns back to the palace of the island and sneaks through a window.

She drenched her dress a bit because it was raining once she entered the palace grounds.

Once she sneaks back in, she quietly walks through the halls before she goes inside a room where laughter could be heard.

Then, a bunch of children voices could be heard once the girl enters the room.

"Oh, it's big sister Y/N!"

#yandere #yandere one piece #one piece #charlotte family #yandere charlotte family #sweet deadly family

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ BEACH DAY: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Crocodile is a king, and kings don't fulfill anyone's wishes, unless that someone is you. The small, young and only son of one of the most feared pirates, a child who would never have his desires denied by his father.

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : Platonic! Crocodile, IT'S NOT A ROMANTIC STORY, Dad! Crocodile, Child! Reader, Male! Child! Reader, difficult childhood due your Dad's business, mentions a lonely childhood, mean children

꒰ WC ꒱ : 995

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Trying to back in my schedule of posting and writing, I'm passing through some bad time with a lot of personal problems so my mind is kinda off for everything, but at least I gonna try to post what I already had (I always say that and never do) anyway enjoy :p

Firstly, your father would be extremely offended if his precious son asked to go to the beach. Dear, your father is the king of the desert and is literally made of sand, why on earth would you want to go to a beach full of stupid people with dirty sand?

Of course, just as Crocodile is unable to refuse your requests every time, what can he do? He spoiled his little boy a little… so soon he's planning a trip to the beach while putting up with you talking about it every day since you as a little child couldn't contain your excitement.

Initially he thought about going to a private beach, he could rent an entire island just to avoid other people, but when you looked at him with those huge puppy eyes saying “but then there won't be other children for me to play with?” He gave up and was at your feet again, bless you, your perfect son who had him wrapped around your finger.

He agreed to go to a public beach, but that doesn't change that he didn't want many people, so he planned to go to a less inhabited island and during a period when there would be fewer people, of course, he made sure the beach was very beautiful and big enough so you can have the most fun. He wasn't ruining her experience for his own selfish limits.

Father of sunscreen, Crocodile doesn't want to see you turning into a pepper, so he makes sure you're completely white from all the sunscreen. It's a little difficult to do this with just one hand, but you were always a patient child and helped your father without any problems, soon you were ready, with your crocodile themed children's swimwear, your colorful floaties and animation for a lifetime.

Crocodile wasn't very excited about swimwear either, so he just wore an open shirt and longer shorts. The problem was that everyone on the beach was staring at the seductive man, was it his fault for being so handsome? Of course, having Daz Bones next to him staring deathly at everyone ensured that no one bothered him, which was perfect for the pirate.

Swimming too deep is a big no, Crocodile can't swim and that means he can't rescue you if you start to sink, not only that, but most of his employees are also Devil Fruit users, which just makes it difficult for him to be sure you will be fine in the water. Now if he goes with you to the beach with a non-user, like Mihawk for example, he may be more comfortable with you going to the deeper parts, accompanied of course.

Crocodile is also very careful about keeping you well hydrated. He knows that children are more sensitive, so he is constantly calling you to drink water, juices or any other liquid. Luckily, you are very obedient and don't waste the chance to drink something delicious, so it was easy to keep it under control. Crocodile also didn't trust just any restaurant or food vendor, so he hired a chef to prepare everything you could want to eat on the beach, whether it was fried fish or ice cream, you had everything at your disposal, prepared by someone you trusted, so Crocodile knew you I wasn't taking any risks.

He gets a little apprehensive when you get close to other children, Crocodile is extremely protective of you. After all, you are his greatest treasure, he would kill and die to prevent you from getting hurt in any way, but when he sees you smiling while playing with the children, he feels his heart relax, in the end, you are still a child, and he doesn't want to in no way to deprive you of having a normal childhood. He already knows how terrible it must be for you to be the son of a pirate, to live on a ship without ever settling on an island for long, the lack of children for you to live with, you can't even go to school, and instead you study with him, his life is not normal like most children and any opportunity he has to give you some moments of a normal childhood he is definitely doing it. He just wants you to grow up happy, regardless of everything.

Now, that doesn't mean he won't be a protective father. All he has to do is see you building your beautiful sandcastle, which he may have helped to stand with his powers without you realizing, when another older child approaches. He is reluctant but doesn't want to act immediately, it's only when the child kicks his castle that he gets angry, then a wave of sand covers the child, knocking him to the ground, the boy has probably swallowed enough sand to never but forget the taste. As soon as the boy runs away crying to his parents, Crocodile rebuilds his entire sandcastle before you can even miss him or cry about it. Your bright smile along with a “thank you daddy” makes it all worth it.

Although he enjoyed the beach day, which basically consisted of him sitting around watching you being a normal kid and having fun and the occasional discussion about business with Daz, the best part for Crocodile is when it starts to get dark, and you're already too tired. He carries you in his arms, using his powers to clean all the sand from your body, you are completely exhausted and sleep like a rock, with the only detail of holding your father's shirt with your small hand.

Crocodile just puts pajamas on you, preferring that you take a shower when you're awake, then he puts you in his bed and covers you. You have a huge smile on your face and are probably having sweet dreams, he watches you for a few moments before leaving to finish some things and then going to sleep.

#one piece x reader #one piece imagine #anime imagines #one piece x male reader #one piece x masc reader #one piece x trans male reader #one piece x transmasc reader #one piece x child reader #crocodile x reader #Crocodile x child reader #crocodile x son reader #x child reader #x male child reader #x male reader #x masc reader #male imagines #platonic imagine #x

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

My favourite Cross Guild X reader crack canon is that reader took one look at Luffy and went "Pookie. That's my child now" and now the Guild just can't hurt the Strawhats because they risk the dreaded kicked puppy look (or the absolute fury and they're not fully sure which one is worse at this point-) and Luffy unknowingly (as per usual) milks this. Like "Oh hey! That's reader! Hello reader!! I don't like the Cross Guild too much but I actually like you!" cue reader crying like a proud mother hen while beating the other three with rolled up newspapers "Hi reader!! Look these are my crew and my new friends!" And now all of those are also under protection because heavens FORBID anyone makes Luffy sad on her watch-

No but I have something similar to this in mind with my Mihawk x OC fic in MUCH later chapters. More big-sister vibes, but she thinks Luffy is just the most adorable lil dreamer and will protect him at all costs.

Crocodile and Buggy being absolutely up in arms when they find out about it, but Mihawk just doesn't even bother looking up, continues flipping through the newspaper, being all dry and disinterested like "Your petty grievances with the boy don't concern me."

But I mean his mosshead step-son IS Luffy's best friend soooo. It's essentially you and Mihawk vs. Crocodile and Buggy on the issue.

Doesn't take long for the latter two to begrudgingly decide to just deal with the fact that the Strawhat idiot and his crew are now unofficial Cross Guild allies.

The ensuing chaos when they end up having to team up for some reason (likely at your behest because Luffy is in danger and THAT'S YOUR SILLY BRAINLESS LIL BB) would be PRICELESS.

#one piece #cross guild #cross guild x reader #mihawk #crocodile #buggy #headcanons #asks

[nekassvariigs]

in the mood for fucking a gigant woman

Yamato x reader

strap-on, Yamato written in pronouns as male, body as female, Yamato x F! reader.

(If youre offended in any way dont continue reading)

He was playful in nature always standing tall and proud few feet taller than you, you bit your lip a little verytime he stood before you, his chest peering over you, you couldnt help but to imagine how nice it would feel to rest your head inside the soft mounds of his breasts.

He never made it apparant that your bedroom eyes made him warm inside the way you threw subtle gazes at the side boob each time he was leaning forth while taking a drink or walking beside you.

He was subtle, keeping his hands to himself in the moments that mattered, calloused hands rough from all the training he did wrapping around your small waist he spoke. "Youve been staring at me latley." he was bold he didnt need to be shy or indirect towards you, his puppy eyes turned to a more knowledged gaze holding a slight seduction to them.

You shuddered lightly at the way his palm glassed over your ribs his face inches away from yours he never fully grasped the perverted throughts you held of him sometimes.

He smirked a little noticing how much you were panicking from his touch his ombré hair tickling the side of your face he hauled you up over his shoulder.

With a yelp you struggled to get an answer from him as he confidently strolled past people who started at your form above him.

"Oh my-" you could hear a woman whisper to herself staring at the two women .

He held you firmly his larger hand resting at the thickest part of your thigh which he squeezed a couple of times on the way.

"Y-yamato where are we going?" You asked curious of this sudden change in him.

"You'll see." he chuckled fingers slipping on the insides of your thighs right under your the inseam of your ass. Your breath hitched at his touch. Yamato made his way inside tucking his head as he entered, a lush sofa waiting there in full display.

He laid you on it, his hips seating on your thigh you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

His hands held against the edge of the sofa, his breasts in full view for you. You blushed staring at the horned male, gaze wavering as his orange eyes peered down on you intimatley.

You gulped feeling his hips rut against your thigh he took it upon himself to allow you to feel the mounds on his chest.

"I-" you couldnt even form a sentence as he guided your hand over his body, slipping your hands between the inseam of his white shirt, his body was way warmer than yours, skin supple and soft as your hand tredged around it, a playful birthmark on the left side of his chest you leaned in toppling yourself over him reversing your roles.

Your head between his mounds you pressed a gentle kiss on the confident males body, this excited him,as he pulled his shirt lower exsposing more of the supple skin.

With an open mouthed kiss you reached to kiss his side a warm hand traling around your waist as you did what you pleased your hips inching against his, he toyed with the button on your pants slipping his hand in the crease to feel around your lower body.

You took pleasure in the way he curiously explored you his hands fitting around the inside of your pants he squeezed your hips ,slipping past to gently trace his hand across your spine as you moved to toy with his nipples. Rubbing circles around his areolas you watched as they hardened in the chilly air your tongue licking the side of his right breast.

He groaned silently at the touch arching your back closer to him.

Your mouth lingered on his skin pressing open mouthed kisses at his sides and collarbones, his hips buckled against your own as he retracted his hands to pull his pants away.

You reached to pull your shirt up his eyes wandering over your waist as he imagined how he would fill you.

"Pretty~" he mumbled across the crook of your neck as he placed his head over your shoulder his hands snaking to undo your bra.

Laces falling down your shoulders you discarded the garment, your breasts rubbing against his larger ones.

He kissed under your ear fondling a handful of your breast with his hands, he squeezed and tugged leaving you breathless for more, his lips always hovering over your shoulder, his eyes entranced with your expressions.

The way your mouth was held lightly ajar slow breaths falling from within as he lazily kissed your shoulder.

"I want you.." you gave into his taunts giving him the okay to cross a line further with you.

His hands roamed to pull your pants away exsposing you to himself fully. He smiled as he reached for something close by.

Your body expecantly waiting for him, your eyes widened at what he pulled around his waist.

A rather large red strap-on the same beautiful crimson color as his horns.

He leaned in to press a quick chaste kiss his hands adjusting the red belts that followed his hips.

You whined lightly, splaying your legs to give him a show for what hes done to you, you rubbed soft strokes against your clit, massaging your juices all over your needy cunt. Yamatos eyes stayed in a strance watching your fingers tease the opening time and time again, he licked his hand, thick strands of saliva dripping down it as he lubricated the false toy he pulled you by the thighs close to him the crimson toy layed atop your drenched cunt.

"You did this you know." He stared at you cupping your breasts pinching your nipples as they jiggled when you let them go.

"And i dont regret a thing~" you cooed watching as he rubbed himself over your cunt with slow strokes, the friction and wetness caused your cunt to squelch against him.

He prodded the tip against your core pushing in for you to get a feel for whats to come.

You moaned at the intrusion letting your body adjust to the girth inside you your walls pulsed already.

Just when you felt comfortable with taking him deeper he pulled out rolling his hips against your clit once more an all knowing smirk on his face, you couldnt belive hed be teasing you like this.

"What?" he looked over to you pressing his cock to rut closer against you.

You bit your lip, covering your face with your hand,a strong red blush creeping on your pretty face, all the way to the tips of your ears.

"Whats wrong?" he teased putting the tip back in just to take it out once more.

Your hips quivered in anticipation as you listened to the wet pop each time he pulled out.

"Yamato.." you whispered his name catching his attention

"Please stop teasing.." he smiled watchig you plead for him.

He thrusted futher in allowing his cock to seath halfway inside of you,still displeased with the feeling you whined out for him reaching your hands for him.

He kissed each palm as he pulled out watching you writhe at the loss of contact.

His hands roamed your lower body squeezing your lush hips he snaked his hands under your ass rising your pelvis upwards he placed a cushion under your hips allowing himself for easier acsess.

He allowed his hands to caress the sides of your body his hips clashing with yours, as he leaned in to suck on your breast.

The fuffling feeling of him inside you was short of breathtaking, your walls convusled against him, the pooling warmth in your lower body only proved your desperation for him.

He snapped his hips in a steady pace watching as you fell deeper into the bliss by his cock.

He continued leaving bruising kisses down your chest, his plump breasts layed low on your stomach, his hard nipples rubbing against the soft skin there. You curled your arm around them, groping the mounds in haze of lust.

His hips clashed against yours harder hard cock hitting your cervix, you gasped in plasure each time you squeezed tighter on him he bucked harder inside you.

"Fuck." You panted watching him pull away from you, hands holding onto your thighs as he began a rougher pace, The crimson cock slipping against your walls in a hurried pace, juices dripping over it as he thursted inside.

You loved the way he peered over you, his larger body against your smaller frame defenetly adding into the kinky side of things.

His breasts bounced with each stroke inside of you, a pool of sweat over his brow you watched the way his abs flexed each time he pushed his hips.

The rising heat in your body showed itself through glazed skin, the coil in your body burning passionatley as he rubbed against the sweetest spot inside.

You mewled and clawed at the sheets, your moans filling the entire room letting everyone know what you two were up to.

He peered over you large red horns glistening against the light of the room his arms trapped your body, his hot breath hitting your face he leaned for a steamy kiss, his pace growing reckless as you moaned inside his mouth with stuttered breaths.

You locked your legs around his hips guiding him deeper inside your pussy. He pulled away biting his lips as your hand clawed at his arm, deep yet feminine groans falling from his mouth as he chased after his high. You watched his eyes roll back in pleasure his lower body quivering every now and then. You desperatley leaned for another kiss, his lips sucked on yours pulling away with a pop he reconected engaging you in a heated makeout.

Your moans grew louder as you groped his chest, hips pulling him in against yourself, you felt your high come over you in a daze calling out for him to let him know of your release.

He pulled away red horns resting close against your neck he panted heavily the rising moans spewed from his chest as his cock stopped deep inside of you, he convusled against you loud groans spilling from his lips as he called your name.

You wiped away the slick hairs on his forehead pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, he smiled sheepishly as he pulled out tossing the garment in haste he layed over you, large body compleatley covering yours as you laid butt naked staring in eachothers eyes, your hand tracing gentle patterns on his back you listened to him humm gently at this warm affection.

#onepiece #one piece fanfiction #onepiece x reader #yamato x reader #yamato son of kaido x reader #yamato #yamato son of kaido #one piece yamato #onepiece smut #one piece yamato smutt #fem x fem #one piece headcannons #one piece #raighley x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece #crocodile x reader #one piece zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #mihawk x reader #portgas ace x reader #sabo x reader #katakuricharlotte

[kookie-doughs]

Daddy Cupid: The Fake Boyfriend

Modern!Smoker X Reader

-When your father grows weary of your single life, he takes it upon himself to play matchmaker. With him knowing the entire city, he embarks on a mission to find you the perfect match.

Chapter 1: Please please pleaseeeeee

"So you ruined your date?"

"He didn't show up! This isn't fair! It's not my fault he stood me up. I'm not going on another date," you retorted with a glare.

Your dad, instead of showing his usual worry, wore a sly smirk. "Don't worry, you won't have to go on any more dates."

You frowned, "Really? That fast?"

He smiled mischievously, "I mean you're going to get engaged. You don't have to go through those dates anymore, right?"

You blinked, taken aback, "Wait what who huh????"

"Engaged. You're going to get engaged to someone I chose for you. I was approached by a friend, Linlin. She said she wanted to marry off her son."

Your dad's words left you stunned, and your mind raced with a million questions about what he had in mind.

You shook your head vehemently, still processing the information. "I'm not getting engaged to a complete stranger. This is ridiculous."

Your dad remained unfazed, "Well, you will be if you stay single. Linlin got a lot of proposal offers, and I've already submitted your name. She's going through the list, and you'll have to respond in a week or two."

Your frustration was apparent as you retorted, "I'm not even a prime candidate? No, thank you, I'm not going to get engaged like this."

With a knowing look, your father suggested, "Maybe if you go on some dates, you'll find somebody before Big Mom announces you as her next daughter-in-law."

You could hardly contain your anger, "You are a despicable old man."

He chuckled, "Well, it better be a great man then!"

You felt utterly defeated after your conversation with your father, and the thought of returning home was too daunting. You decided to contact Buggy, asking him to meet you at Smoker's place instead.

Fortunately, Buggy was nearby and arrived at Smoker's apartment before you did. You both let yourselves in, even though Smoker was not at home at the moment. The familiar surroundings of his place offered some solace. You immediately began sharing the events of earlier to him.

Buggy was clearly shocked by your revelation. "No fucking way," he gasped in response.

You respond, exclaiming, "Yes fucking way. I'm going to... AHHHHHHH! WHAT AM I GONNA DO, BUG?! I DON'T WANNA GET ENGAGED! ESPECIALLY NOT TO A CHARLOTTE, HOLY SHIT!"

You paced around Smoker's living room, anxiety coursing through you.

Buggy brainstormed possible solutions. "Is there like a way to change this? Maybe tell Big Mom you don't wanna get married?"

"We both know Linlin doesn't care about us. And Dad said if I meet someone, he'll cancel the engagement..."

"So, you have to date someone?"

"Yeah, in a week! I'm not gonna find a guy I can date in a week, Bug, I'm over! I'm gonna be a wife! I'm gonna be Charlotte Y/N!!" You could feel the panic in your voice as the reality of your situation sunk in.

Buggy then smirks and interrupts you, saying, "You don't have to date date someone."

You were taken aback. "What? Yes, I do, Dad would—"

"No, listen to me," Buggy said, trying to explain his plan. "You can fake date."

"Fake date? Buggy, if you're gonna try fooling my dad—"

"DO YOU WANT HELP OR NOT?????"

"FINE WHAT IS IT"

"OKAY! So you can fake date. Find someone who'll pretend to be your boyfriend."

"My dad isn't dumb. He's going to know... especially if it only took me a week to find a boyfriend. Crocodile and I took 5 months before we put labels," you grumble.

"What about me? I'll pretend. We've known each other for a while, Rayleigh would let it slide."

"No, you suck at acting. You can't tell a lie for shit, Buggy. You'll end up pissing yourself in front of my dad," you grumble.

"What about Shanks?"

"He's a whore. He wouldn't be allowed to date anyone for a while, I can't do that to him."

Buggy leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "Alright. So, no to me and Shanks, but we need to find someone who can convince your dad without raising suspicion. A good actor."

You both pondered for a moment. Your mind raced through the list of potential candidates.

As Smoker entered the room, your very serious discussion came to an abrupt halt. You and Buggy exchanged knowing smirks, and he gave a subtle nod.

"What the hell are you both doing here?"

You sauntered over to Smoker with a teasing smile and casually rested your arm on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Smokey, would you like to be my boyfriend?"

His response was short and simple. "No."

Undeterred by Smoker's initial refusal, you continued with your playful insistence, pouting and using your best puppy-dog eyes.

"Smookeyyyy, pleeeease! Pretty please with a cherry on top!"

You clung to his arm, swaying gently and wearing a playful smile.

"Why would I date you?" Smoker questioned.

"Because you love me, and I'm pretty?" You responded with a hint of mischief in your voice, flashing him your softest smile.

He grumbled, pushing you away as he crashed on the couch next to Buggy.

"Tell me what's happening," he sighed.

You and Buggy began retelling the events, explaining the impending arranged marriage and the need for a fake boyfriend to ward it off. Smoker listened, his usual gruff expression softening as he comprehended the situation.

"You're worried about Shanks' love life but not mine?"

"Well, you don't have one. So, pretty pleaseeee, just a few months." You grinned.

"Wait, how long is a few months?"

"About 5 to 6 months!"

"Isn't that like half a year?" Buggy blinked. "Why do you need it that long?"

"We can shorten it if needed, but that's the maximum duration we'll pretend to date. It depends on how long it takes to deceive my dad..."

Smoker raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "And what's in it for me?"

You grinned mischievously. "I'll owe you one, Smokey. Whatever you want, within reason, once this is all over."

Buggy chimed in. "And I'll make sure you don't have to pay for any alcohol during the entire time you're 'dating' my dear friend here."

Smoker sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're both a pain in the ass. Fine, but the moment this is over, I don't want to hear a word about this ever again."

You cheered and hugged Smoker, who grunted in response. It seemed like your plan was coming together, though you couldn't help but wonder how well it would work out.

"I'll be in your care, darling~" You cooed.

"I'm already about to break up with you." He hissed.

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @nykie-love-anime @angstylittleb1tch @valen-yamyam16 @melodyidk @anicega @littlegreekgirl1 @rebeccawinters @manduse @alextheknight707

#x reader #fanfiction #y/n l/n #one piece #one piece #smoker #smoker x reader #smoker one piece #smoker op #one piece smoker #vice admiral smoker #captain smoker #white chase smoker #one piece x reader #op

[pix3lplays]

Masterlist V

Wow onto five already!! Thank you so much for your support!

-Honkai star rail-

Luocha’s son taking care of him when he gets sick

Teaching reader to swim

Wife reader dies while Jing Yuan is away at war

Dan Heng being susceptible to overstimulation

Blade’s daughter is getting bullied

Jing Yuan’s wife!reader looks very beautiful when using powers

Imbibitor Lunae x reader: exile

Blade is soft with reader

High School AU, student gov. President Dan Heng and Vice President reader who always flirts with him

wife!reader and IL Dan Heng when child tells classmates that their “dad’s a dragon!”

Blade and Luocha in dead reader universe when their kid gets into a toxic relationship

High school AU, HSR men get the role of Romeo, reader gets the role of Juliet

Dan Heng full SFW alphabet

Dan Heng x reader who wants to avenge him

Eating disorders

Luocha x reader: the Abundance Abomination

Dan Feng x reader

Luocha x reader: long distance

Luocha’s son is the one who revives reader

Cloud knight!reader x Luocha

Luocha x Phoenix!reader

Luocha x reader with an absurd personality

Reader was in a toxic relationship with Dan Feng

Jing Yuan x reader who works in the realm keeping commission

Reader’s eating disorder is flaring up

Dan Feng x reader: Festival Lanterns

Yanqing’s older sister x IL Dan Heng

Dan Heng x fem!reader: night crying

Dan Heng x reader: past sins

Reader says: trust me! I’ll catch you!

Reader who’s always trying to get Dan Heng to smile

Dan Heng x reader as grumpy x sunshine

High school au when you ask them out to prom in front of the whole school

Getting the spotlight at prom

Reader dies in their arms

Comforting reader who suddenly split off with a friend

Chronically ill Dan Heng

Phoenix!reader has feathers all over

Meeting their child for the first time

Dan Heng becomes flirty in his Vidyadhara form

Fem!reader is an opera singer

How long it takes Dan Heng to accept hugs from the astral express crew and reader

Dan Heng x reader: weighted blankets and hugs

Reader is a burnt out nurse

Reader is usually happy and energetic, goes quiet around family

Actor! Dan Heng x backstage!reader

Luka as a dad discussion

Valkyrie!reader

Walking in on reader singing

Workaholic!Dan Heng x reader who wants him to take a dang break

Dan Heng IL and reader are so in love

Hitting them with ‘ur mom’

Cooking skills and what they pack for their kids’ lunch

Barista absolutely botches their names

Reader likes to touch Dan Heng’s exposed skin

Dan Feng x reader: the outside world

Reader likes fashion and dresses them like a K-pop idol

Reader is out for revenge

Reader is pessimistic but loves them

Reader emotionally shuts down

Playing in a play centre with their child

Reader’s child keeps bringing home stray cats

Dan Heng and Luka when reader brings them a care package

When a child dies

Reader is Sampo’s little sister

Welt and Blade with a reader who wears a mask

-Dr. Stone-

Xeno SFW alphabet

Xeno with S/o who reminds him to take breaks

Modern AU Senku x reader: truth or dare

Reader comforting Senku while he misses his dad

Reader has sensory issues

Reader spends too much money x Senku

Reader falls asleep on Xeno’s lap

Reader is a gamer

Senku x smart reader: bad at feelings

Senku x reader: Childhood friends to lovers(kinda) feat.height difference

Senku x fem!reader: Protective

Least to most stressed about packing

-One Piece-

Mihawk x reader who only sings for him

Mihawk x clingy reader

Mihawk x wife!reader who’s loved by cats

Reader does instead of Ace

Sanji x reader who has a violin based devil fruit power

Ace is jealous of reader’s cat

Mihawk x strong s/o

Modern au!Ace x serious gamer!reader:Spend some time

Mihawk x reader who loves jellyfish

Zoro and Sanji x reader who loves jellyfish

Jealousy hcs

With a reader who’s like Dan Heng from Honkai Star Rail

Reader likes to warm up against Ace’s skin

Reader works for Baroque works x Sir Crocodile

Reader is sneaky

As college roommates

Mihawk x wife!reader who doesn’t let him pay

Sir Crocodile x reader who’s the opposite of him

Reader tries to leave Sir Crocodile

Sir Crocodile x fem!reader: the little shadow

Platonic Ace training young pirate reader

Mihawk x reader who’s shy around him

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Dr. Stone #Dr. Stone x reader