#[one half of] my celestial husbands

[sneakyfox55]

HKFDSHKHSDKHKSHAAJAHJADHJSAJHASJA

Day 171 of drawing Papyrus until he cameos in deltarune! Hey!! Its two of my favourite video game guys!! Two of my favourite tall fellas!! I love these guys

[bananabreads]

I absolutely adore your dad!lads series. Every single post gives me so much serotonin 🥰. I love how much personality you put into each of their kids!

I saw that you're requests are open and thought it could be cute to see their children losing their first tooth because I randomly remembered how that happened to me.

Of course only if you want to!

More importantly thank you so so much for writing 🤗 and I hope both sides of your pillow are cold :3

Dad!lads and their child losing their first ever tooth (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)

— ♥︎♥︎ Dad!Rafayel, Dad!Caleb, Dad!Sylus, Dad!Zayne, Dad!Xavier — Inbox is open for requests and questions!

RAFAYEL —

Unlike most kids, your daughter loved going to the dentist. She thought the bright lights, little mirrors, and spinning chairs were magical. So when her first ever baby tooth started wobbling, and the tiniest sliver of a new one began peeking behind it, she was practically bouncing around the house.

“Daddy, We need to go to the dentist, right now!” she told Rafayel dramatically one morning, clutching her cheek like it was a life or death situation.

You both chuckled, and after a quick visit, the dentist gently helped her pop the tooth out. She didn’t even flinch, just sat there proudly, clutching the tiny tooth like it was a diamond.

When you tried to offer the little tooth box the clinic gave her, she shook her head. “No one touches it but me.”

Fair enough. She clutched it in her little palm the entire ride home, even while she messily devoured a post dentist celebratory ice cream.

Once you got home, you thought she’d calm down. Instead, she ran to her room, ripped a page out of her sketchbook, grabbed her favorite scented marker, and started furiously writing something.

Rafayel peeked over her shoulder. “What’s that, little guppy?”

She turned, grinning.

“It's my wishlist, daddy! For the Tooth Fairy!”

Both of you paused.

“Oh,” Rafayel said, eyes flicking to you. “A wishlist...”

“Yup!” she beamed, proudly placing the tooth and the folded paper under her pillow. “If Santa gets one, so does she.”

Hours later, once she was fast asleep, you and Rafayel carefully crept into the room and peeked at the letter.

You slowly unfolded the paper… and nearly choked.

TOOTH FAIRY WISHLIST:

1. "Reel fairy wings that glow"

2. "A baby unicorn (just small one!!)"

3. "10000 🌈🌈 stickkers"

4. "Secret note that mommy and daddy can't read"

5. "A surprize (but like a GOOD surprize)"

6. "Magecal brash dat can draw in the sky!"

Rafayel sat on the floor outside her room, staring at the note in his hands like it had personally cursed him.

“She thinks the Tooth Fairy is a celestial sorcerer,” he whispered. “Love, We’re doomed.”

You rubbed your temples. “We should’ve just told her the truth.”

“She had sparkles in her eyes,” Rafayel hissed back. “We can't.”

So now you were both on your phones, half frantically scrolling for glow in the dark fairy wings, sky projector pens, and trying to figure out how to make a “secret note” that only she could read.

You glanced at your husband, Rafayel.

“We created a high maintenance daughter.”

Rafayel sighed. “We did. And she deserves every bit of magic we can fake.”

And so the Tooth Fairy Operation began.

CALEB —

Your daughter’s first wobbly tooth had been hanging on for days, one of her front ones, giving her that adorable crooked grin. You and Caleb had finally agreed that it was now the time to visit the dentist to help it along. Nothing scary, just a little milestone.

Caleb was already waiting on the couch, car keys in hand, while you finished dressing her. The moment her shoes were on, she tore out of the room with bright eyes and bouncing steps.

“Daddy! I'm turning into a big girl now!” she shouted excitedly, arms thrown up like she’d just won something huge.

Caleb let out a warm laugh, catching her before she could leap into his lap. “You’re growing too fast, sweetie” he murmured with a soft smile, gently pinching her cheeks. “Can you slow down just a little for me?”

She giggled and hugged him tight, filled with that proud, bubbly energy only kids have.

But as you finally opened the front door to head out, she ran a few steps ahead, too excited to wait. Her little foot caught on the step.

“Sweetheart—!” you both called, but too late.

She tripped, hitting her knees on the concrete with a small thud. She didn’t wail right away—just blinked, confused, and then the tears welled up fast.

“Ow—!” she whimpered, eyes wide and lip trembling. “It hurts—!”

Caleb knelt beside her instantly, scooping her into his arms as you gently checked her for scrapes. That’s when you noticed: her tooth was gone.

It had popped right out from the fall, a tiny drop of red left on her lip.

You gave Caleb a quick look. She hadn't noticed.

Without a word, he subtly picked up the tooth from the ground and slipped it into his pocket. You took out a tissue and gently dabbed at her mouth, doing your best to block her view.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. Just a little magic accident,” you said, kissing her temple.

“Did I bleed?” she asked, voice small, eyes darting between you both.

“Nope, not at all,” Caleb said smoothly, still cradling her in his arms. “You were so brave, your tooth just decided to come out on its own. You don’t even need the dentist now!”

Her teary eyes widened. “...Really?”

You smiled and nodded. “Really. And you know what brave girls get?”

“Ice cream?” she sniffled, hopefully.

“Exactly,” Caleb grinned.

That night, a tiny tooth waited under her pillow, and she fell asleep whispering, “I’m a big girl now…” with a gap toothed smile and a bit of strawberry ice cream still on her chin.

SYLUS —

The day had finally come. Your daughter’s wobbly front tooth was hanging by a thread, and she was both excited and slightly nervous. You and Sylus had everything ready in the living room—tissues, some ice cubes in a bowl, and her favorite chocolate ice cream waiting in the freezer as a post tooth reward.

You were lounging on the couch, ready to play the role of support, while Sylus headed down the hallway to fetch her from her room.

He opened the door and immediately froze.

There she was, kneeling on the floor, practically manhandling poor Mephisto, who looked every bit like a hostage to a very confusing situation.

“Mephie, this one!” she declared proudly, prying her mouth open and pointing to her wobbly tooth while gently, maybe not so gently, pulling his head closer.

She was shaking him a little, like she was trying to convince him to do dentistry.

Sylus’s eyes widened. “Wait—wait, no, sweethe—”

But it was too late.

With one more tug, she forced Mephisto’s beak to accidentally pull just right—and pop! The tooth flew.

Mephisto yelped and flew off towards the top shelf to reclaim his dignity.

Your daughter blinked, then slowly turned to Sylus, mouth slightly agape, blood at the corner of her lips, before breaking into the biggest, gappiest grin.

“Daddy, I did it!” she beamed. “I’m a genius!”

Sylus let out a deep breath, half in relief, half in exasperation. “You almost gave Mephisto a heart attack, sweetheart..” he muttered, scooping her up. “You're lucky he didn’t call in for backup.”

She just giggled, utterly unfazed. “Do I still get ice cream?”

You had peeked into the room by then, having heard the commotion, and saw Sylus walking out with your proud little gremlin in his arms and a very grumpy Mephisto flapping behind them like an offended shadow.

“Only if you promise no more bird dentistry,” you said, ruffling her hair.

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine... maybe next time I’ll ask big bros luke and kieran!”

Both you and Sylus exchanged a look that said absolutely not—but for now, it was ice cream time.

And that night, one tiny tooth sat under her pillow, and one very traumatized bird refused to come down from the shelf.

ZAYNE —

Your daughter had made it very clear—she absolutely hated going to the dentist. Even the mention of it had her hiding behind curtains or burying her face into your shirt like the dentist was some kind of monster under the bed.

So when one of her front teeth started wobbling like it was ready to pack up and leave on its own, Zayne sighed and gently said, “Alright, kiddo. No dentist. Daddy will help, okay?”

You handed over tissues and moral support while Zayne knelt in front of her, patient and gentle. The tooth was barely hanging on, it just needed a little nudge.

“Alright, sweetheart, open up,” he said softly.

She obediently opened her mouth, and then immediately shut it the moment Zayne reached for the tooth.

This happened three times.

“Sweetie,” you said, trying not to laugh as she pressed her lips tightly together. “You want it out, remember?”

“I know..” she mumbled. “But it’s scary when it’s right there…”

Zayne chuckled and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Okay, okay. Let’s try this another way.”

He held her tiny shoulders gently and said, “I’ll count to three, alright? We’ll pull it on three. Easy.”

She nodded, eyes wide, lips parted just a bit this time.

“One…”

“Two—”

Pop!

“Wha—?!”

Before she could even flinch, the tooth was already in Zayne’s hand.

She blinked. “Daddy, You said on three!”

You bit back a laugh as your daughter stared at him, offended for a solid five seconds before bursting into a soft giggles.

“Can I see the hole?” she asked, already sticking her tongue in the gap.

Zayne gently wiped the tiny bit of blood from her mouth and nodded. “You look like a fierce little shark now.”

She beamed. “Does this mean I get two coins from the tooth fairy...? Because I got tricked by daddy!”

Zayne raised a brow. “Tricked? That was strategy, little lady.”

She stuck her tongue out, still smiling—and already asking for ice cream five minutes later.

XAVIER —

You and Xavier's four year old son had been avoiding food like it was his mortal enemy—all thanks to one stubborn wobbly tooth. Every meal turned into a negotiation.

“It moves when I chew, Mommy… I don’t like it,” he would say, looking betrayed by even the softest slice of bread.

You and Xavier had tried everything: gentle wiggling, funny pep talks, and reassuring him that the tooth would fall out soon. Still, he refused to eat properly, poking at his food with dramatic sighs.

Hoping to lift his spirits and maybe tempt his appetite, you and Xavier surprised him with a home hotpot dinner. You set everything up together, steaming broth, dumplings, noodles, and dipping sauces, all cozy and warm.

Xavier ruffled your son’s hair as he eyed the food with wary suspicion.

“It’s okay, little star,” Xavier said reassuringly. “Your tooth won’t come out yet. Dumplings are soft, remember?”

You nodded. “Promise, nothing’s gonna fall off tonight.”

That seemed to win him over. He climbed onto his chair, determined to enjoy the feast.

One dumpling.

Two dumplings.

Three.

And on the fourth dumpling, he froze mid chew.

His chewing slowed. His eyes widened. Then he opened his mouth, pointed dramatically, and let out a soft, muffled,

“M-mommy...m-my tooth—”

A tiny plop hit his napkin.

His mouth hung open as you both leaned closer and saw the tiny front tooth, finally out. A little spot of pink lingered on his gums.

You gently scooped it up as Xavier reached for the tissues, already crouching beside your son. “Easy, buddy. Just a little bit of blood—it’s totally okay.”

“I didn’t finish my dumpling,” he mumbled, lower lip trembling a bit. The excitement had fizzled out and now he just looked... done.

You dabbed his gums carefully while Xavier helped him sip some cool water, whispering soothing words.

Next thing you knew, your little guy, still sniffling a little, was curled in Xavier’s lap on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, while you fed him tiny spoonfuls of soft tofu and noodles like he was a sulky little prince.

“Open up, sweetie,” you cooed, offering another bite.

He pouted, but opened his mouth anyway.

“Such a drama king,” Xavier muttered affectionately, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And when he finally smiled, gap toothed and still a bit pouty, you and Xavier couldn’t help but laugh, already imagining how you’d tell this story when he was older.

[yzzart]

✶⋆.˚ YOU SAW ME MOURNING MY LOVE FOR YOU ── VERGIL

୭˚. ᵎᵎ summary: Vergil swore to protect his son and his wife from anyone, but even from himself?

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: F! and half-angel!reader, reader is Nero's mother, Vergil mentions her as "wife", references to DMC5 events, mention of Dante, Eva, Nico and Kyrie, blood and slightly mature words.

⭑.ᐟ In one condition, — perhaps, another dimension — a certain circumstance, the marital union, a bond so affectionate and prestigious, between the half demon, who was the son of Sparda, and a woman, who had blood ties, relatives, with a fallen angel, would cause the birth of a child. — Throughout his growth, he could face his own father.

⤷ Lost souls, who buried themselves in the underworld, facing punishments and retributions, and divine creatures, who followed different paths, but maintained their punishments, knew that the future consequence — and the plausible, admissible forgiveness of Sparda's son against his firstborn and his wife —, was caused by himself. — And he knew it like no one else.

⭑.ᐟ Vergil could never believe in the spells, manipulations or achievements of divine creatures. — He remembers, slowly, stirring up his past, little stories his mother told him about cherubs, angels. — However, he would not stop denying, resisting or defending himself from the charms of the daughter of a fallen angel; the one who, for delighting in a human woman, was condemned to eternal suffering, being sealed by the divinities, by those who swore to be allies. — For the first time, he realized he was vulnerable to feeling.

⤷ Sparda allowed himself, granted, to witness something burning in his chest, consuming him more than his selfishness, pride and arrogance in the search for power, the desire to be equal to his father; and he, blindly, succeeded. — Understanding the reason for a passion, adoration for your existence.

⭑.ᐟ Nero had been born; it was a blessing, an apollonian gift. — Sparda's first grandson was kept, protected, in the arms of his eldest son; who would not dare tolerate any approach, mention or conformity in front of the child. — He had his father's eyes, maintaining the same color in his hair, but, he transmitted an energy, a familiar feeling, that only you conveyed to Vergil.

⤷ That small, fragile and sensitive creature had his blood running through his veins; he was part of a celestial and demonic lineage. — Vergil had become a father; he found it hard to believe it every second as he held your hand. — Finding it hard to believe if he could fulfill his father's role.

⤷ Vergil would kill for his wife and son; he would destroy hell, exterminating every creature that lived there, he could annihilate human civilization. — He would do anything. — But you didn't know if he was right in protecting them from his own vainglory; you feared for that, it distinguished the man you loved.

⭑.ᐟ On Nero's sixth birthday — it was contradictory, the sweet coincidence; his father had been almost the same age at the tragic and fatal event that marked his life — Vergil left; holding, with all the strength that burned in his body, the yamato, feeling his wedding ring wrapped around the handle with a cord. — The ring that promised his bond, marriage and trust to you; all his love for you.

⤷ You knew he would do it; you knew your husband, but it didn't stop causing pain, suffering, anguish in your chest, in your heart. — A torturing and disgusting sensation, something you had never felt burning; not even when you were seen as an immoral, sinful being by divine creatures. — A void that was never filled, no one could do anything but the one who caused it, the one you continued to love, intensely.

⤷ Dante memorized Eva; as a child, he witnessed the sadness that overflowed his mother during his father's permanent absence. — He wanted to believe that his brother would return and risked the small percentage of trust he had left in Vergil.

⭑.ᐟ Nero, risking the desire to have the same “respect” and composure of those who had always been around him — intending, hoping to follow the same path as you — continued to be a demon hunter; you, accompanied by your maternal instinct, could not stand the idea, but you knew that idea would not leave your son's head under any circumstances. — Of course, he had the blood of Sparda's most obstinate and stubborn son.

⤷ In a few cases, situations and hunts, Nero accompanied you; obeying your orders and following rules, and always questioning them all. — He did not answer you, did not refute and would never dare to disrespect you; even during your discussions about his father, who never had the opportunity to recognize memories of him.

⭑.ᐟ Only one day, during your short absence in the afternoon, Nero, fixing the van, after having told Nico to hurry up and eat, had received the presence of someone hooded; therefore, a homeless person, probably very hungry and thirsty. — He knew that Kyrie always, always cooked more than he should and would take advantage of the situation to help; you always educated your little boy, and he was grateful for that.

⤷ However, the eminently unknown person focused his attention on the young boy's demonic arm, which shone brightly, causing Nero to feel a certain strangeness. — Without the chance to question, again, what the hooded man needed, Nero had his arm ripped off and transformed into a sword, a katana, capable of forming a portal; without looking back, the unknown disappeared, leaving the boy, who screamed in pure pain, bleeding.

⤷ After your arrival, Nero didn't want to leave your arms, he didn't care how vulnerable, defenseless, and touchy he appeared in front of the people present in the house; for the first time, that rebel released his destroyed bonds of sadness and fear. — Your son questioned why, with anger and blood in his mouth, and who could have done this; you would never forgive yourself, never.

⤷ And not only because you were far from Nero, not protecting him as you should have, keeping your child, something that has your blood, so exposed; but for another reason. — You knew who had done that cruelty, that damned fatality; you knew.

[physics-of-one-piece]

Merlot & Primroses (Doflamingo x Reader)

Chapter 1

(AO3 link)

Summary: Your husband’s brother finds you. Life with him and his sham of a family is as cold as the snow your husband was found buried in. You're going to wilt slowly living with Doflamingo, you’re sure. No flower can survive in such snow.

Tags: Doflamingo x Reader, Rosinante's Wife!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Female!Reader, Rosinante x Reader (mentioned through flashbacks), Murder, Mentions of Fratricide, Emotional Breakdown, Grief, Angst, Hurt, Post-Minion Island, North Blue Doflamingo, Red Suit Doflamingo, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Celestial Dragon Traditions, Donquixote Brothers, Adult Themes, New Tags Added with Each Chapter

A/N: It's finally here. The Red Suit Doffy fic I've been working on since... (checks dates of the first chapter) September 2024. Damn. I've only got the first two chapters written, everything else is vibes, but I want it to be 8-10 chapters. I also wanted to explore Doflamingo's way (or lack thereof) with showing/wanting/offering physical affection. This post is great analysing it and is the one that inspired me to even start thinking of writing it deeper and Doflamingo's lack of offering touch, and his use of touch when he does choose it/want it. It just confirmed to me back then that Doflamingo is INCREDIBLY touch-starved and very very not aware of it which has the potential to be very dangerous. Especially North Blue Doflamingo. (shudders) Also... I'm not sorry about the GIF. If I had to suffer making it, you have to reward my suffering by suffering while watching it. It's only fair 🥺

Word Count: 11.7k words

Chapter Navigation: 1 (you are here), 2 , 3 , 4

Chapter 1

The moment you and Rosinante moved into your house in North Blue for Rosinante’s mission, you had no disagreements over furniture placements and colour configurations. You both adored white and blue, and light colours, so there weren’t a lot of disagreements. The one thing you and Rosinante immediately agreed upon was the colour of your bedroom’s walls, both the ceiling and the surrounding four walls — sky blue.

To Rosinante, it was his favourite colour, and to you, it reminded you of the sky and the sea. It reminded you of the sky blue dress shirt Rosinante wears under his white waistcoat when wearing his marine uniform as a Navy commander — the uniform he wore when you met him.

It’s the sky blue ceiling you wake up to.

You’re laying in the bedroom you share with your husband, no weight of your clumsy blond husband on the other side, drooling away and snoring — silently thanks to his Devil Fruit — in his sleep.

That’s the first thing you notice.

It’s silent. Unnervingly so.

You roll over, half-asleep, glancing toward the alarm clock on your desk beside the marine transponder snail.

It’s way past the time Rosinante should have contacted you to tell you of successfully healing Law by making him eat the Op-Op Fruit.

Aren’t they back yet?

They should’ve been back by now.

Rosi would have called you that they’re on their way by now. You could heat up the dinner leftovers, or… No, you’d start on another dinner! Minion Island is cold this time of year, and although you’d bought Law the warmest cloak you could find in the town, he would probably still feel an unpleasant chill. You’d make them warm soup easy on the stomach.

Or... or...

A cake! A cake to celebrate Law beating his disease for good, and Rosi’s official last self-given assignment as Corazón. He could finally remove that mantle for good.

You were definitely going to convince him to keep his black feather coat, though.

The weather must be bad. The North Blue Sea was infamous for its waves during the winter months. Or maybe they're laying low on Minion now that the marines have arrested the Donquixote Pirates.

But Rosi would have called you if they were staying low; he’d promised to call you.

The yellow transponder snail with the white and blue shell rings.

You lunge across the bed to reach it, lifting the receiver by the time the second ring sounds out, your heart leaping in relief — Rosi must be calling to tell you they’re okay, that Law is healthy now, that they will come home soon —

The voice that said your name wasn’t Rosinante’s.

“Vice Admiral Tsuru,” you said, eyes wide. You cleared your throat. “Yes, it’s me.”

“Your husband, marine commander Donquixote Rosinante…”

Why does Tsuru-san sound in pain?

“...is dead.”

The world stopped, turning completely silent.

All you could do was stare blankly.

What?

The last two words repeated in your head like a broken record.

Rosinante is dead. Rosinante is dead. Rosinante is dead.

Rosinante… is dead?

Those words didn’t belong with Rosinante’s name. Rosinante and the word dead didn’t belong in a sentence.

Shock left you mute, your head completely empty.

“We found him in the snow, with twenty bullet wounds. Sengoku confirmed his identity,” Tsuru’s voice sounded pained and hoarse. Then, the marine vice admiral abandoned her white coat, and said to you, woman to woman, “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled with tears. It can’t be… it can’t be Rosi… not Rosi…

“He’s right here with me.” said Tsuru, while your hand around the receiver started to tremble. “We’re taking his body to Marineford. We’re sending a ship to escort you there tomorrow.”

Body. Body. Rosinante’s body.

Rosinante’s corpse. Your husband’s corpse.

“Understood.”

You put the receiver on the snail, its “Ga-chak.” filling the silence.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. The sound of it echoes in your head. Your sight blurs, and you lose sense in your legs. The next moment, you’re sitting numbly on the floor in the bedroom which you and Rosinante painted together, surrounded by the sky blue walls, tears running down your cheeks.

What just happened? What…

Seconds ago, you were thinking about what food to warm up if Rosinante and Law managed to come back at this time late at night.

Seconds ago, Rosinante was alive.

You shuddered, crying more tears.

Now, you'd just gotten a call he’s... dead? That they’re transporting his body to Marineford?

Shock numbed you. That didn’t make sense. Just three days ago, Rosinante slept beside you, his large body wrapped around you, keeping you tucked into his chest, keeping you warm. He’d been beside you, breathing, talking, smiling and alive.

In the snow? Twenty bullets in him? Twenty? Rosinante never got that many bullet wounds.

You grab at your throbbing head.

This can’t be real. It doesn’t make sense. Rosinante had been right here, which only felt like hours ago. He'd been right here with you, in this very room, his warm, soft lips kissing yours, his face snuggling in your neck, his blond curly hair between your fingers, his long arms wrapped snugly around you, his angelic laugh tickling your ear.

It’s not real. It’s not real, this is a nightmare, it’s not real. You’re having a nightmare. This isn’t real. It can’t be, it can’t —

“Rosi…” you whisper shakily, trembling. You choke on a breath. Your chest hurts.

Your mind struggled to catch up to your body, which was shaking, panting, tears streaming down your shocked face and open, wide eyes.

You realise your lungs are hurting, your breathing rapid — alarmingly, so.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

You’re going to suffocate in the wave of your grief.

You rush outside. The air is cold. You inhale it greedily, foggy clouds sifting out of your mouth. Your chest felt painful while you gasped in the air. Your ribcage was squeezing in on itself. The cold air made you realise how warm the tears on your cheeks were.

You couldn’t stand anymore. You fell to your knees, and the sounds burst out of you; you started crying openly, loud, uncontrollable sobs leaving your mouth.

You screamed, howling into the sky, crying uncontrollably. The sounds your body produced, your lungs released, were heart-wrenching, full of agony.

You wept and wept, sobbed and screamed, hiccuped and choked, looking up at the starry night sky without really seeing it, tears streaming down your face as you howled in agony into the sky you used to watch together with Rosinante, crying toward the far-away stars.

All you could see was Rosinante, smiling brightly at you, his voice saying, “I love you!” filling your ears.

And your heart was wrenched open and killed.

Dead with your husband.

All you could do with the unbearable agony inside you was weep and howl like a dying, mourning animal.

***

How does betrayal feel like?

It feels like silence.

Silence of four years, a gap battled with taps on the den-den mushi and ink on paper.

It feels like the silence being broken by a voice. A voice not as deep as Doflamingo’s but sounding godly all the same, confident and calm, a softness Doflamingo’s didn’t possess.

His little brother’s voice, which Doflamingo mourned the loss of, not knowing he was mourning an empty lie. So many nights he spent thinking how Rosinante's voice would sound like as an adult, how his laugh would sound like, hoping maybe with time, he would hear it - one day, one day, one day — not knowing it was there all along and Rosinante had denied him all of it, had given it to the marines, to Law, to strangers Doflamingo didn't know.

Doflamingo hated them all.

Why did they get to have it and he didn’t?

Rosinante was his little brother, his family, his only equal, the only one who understood, the one who’d been through the same hell as he had... And yet, Doflamingo never got Rosinante back, never truly met his brother as an adult, not really. All Doflamingo got from Rosinante was a mask and silence, while they got everything.

All Doflamingo was given was a scrap, and lies.

So many lies.

Rosi — the one who gave his nickname to him because he couldn’t pronounce Doflamingo’s full name when he was two, shortening it into a harmless nickname full of fondness — didn’t even call him Doffy.

The first words Rosi said to him after four years of silence, after eighteen years of nothing, was his fucking marine code.

Rosi talked to him like they were strangers.

“You just had to go and screw everything up! Why did you come back just to mess with me, Corazón?!”

What Doflamingo meant by those words was: Why? Why did you come back? You should’ve stayed away from me if you hated me. Then this wouldn’t be happening! I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d stayed away from me!

The pain of betrayal is sharp and agonising.

Like a bullet.

Like red blood on white snow.

Doflamingo wouldn’t be surprised if he was bleeding in the same places Rosinante had, too.

Vergo’s words rang out in his head.

“Corazón has a wife.”

Doflamingo stared at the picture of you on the file Vergo sent him, staring down at your face.

At the one Rosinante gave everything to…

Finding out something like this...

It felt like... Like the first inhale of the fresh, clear sea morning, like the first bite into a feast after starving for a week, like the most pure, fresh water after a long trek in the desert.

Doflamingo thinks he understands now why Rosi didn’t stay away from him, why Rosi returned.

Because Rosi couldn’t stay away. If not for himself, then for his wife. Would Doflamingo be able to stay away, if he knew his brother was alive somewhere, with a wife, and hell, maybe planning to have a family? Would Doflamingo be the one considering a choice; stay away or meet? Cursed if you don’t, cursed if you do.

Would Doflamingo be able to do it?

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to stay away from Rosi, or from Rosi’s family. Because Doflamingo was family, too. Rosi’s family was Doflamingo’s family, too.

Just like now, Doflamingo couldn’t stay away from you. It was impossible. It felt like his own threads were pulling him toward you, urging themselves forth from his fingertips, reaching out to wrap around you, no matter how much he was sure you didn’t want them to.

Just like how Rosi couldn’t stay away from Doflamingo no matter how much he hated him, Doflamingo couldn’t stay away from you no matter how much he knew you hated him.

He just couldn’t. The thought was painful to bear, the mere image of staying away threatening to shred the last remaining piece of Doflamingo’s heart held together by strings.

“Doffy?” Vergo’s voice across the snail pulled Doflamingo out of his thoughts; he was still staring at your file, at the picture of you, at your name. “What do you want to do?”

Doflamingo got out of his chair, grabbing the pink feather coat that laid on it.

“I’m going to go get her,” he said, swinging the pink mantle over his shoulders. He grabbed a quill and parchment, writing down a note for Trebol and the others to find.

He looked outside. It was early in the morning; Vergo's call and documents he sent had woken him up. It was still dark out on the sea.

“Understood,” said Vergo without question. “Safe travels, Doffy.”

Doflamingo hummed in response, and put the receiver back down on the snail. He exited his cabin, walking to the balustrade of the ship, putting his right foot atop the rail. The wind was chilly, brushing at his face.

He still had a family. Rosinante had not only left Doflamingo behind.

He left a wife behind, too.

Doflamingo took to the sky.

***

Something burns on your skin. Your eyelids flutter open; the morning light sneaks in through the curtains, casting your eyes in the ray of gold. Your brows furrow in pain from the light hitting you.

You feel empty.

You woke in the puddle of your own misery. You've cried and howled yourself into sleep on the white carpet. You don’t know when you entered inside again after releasing the howl of agony into the night sky.

The house is empty.

Rosinante isn’t home yet.

That’s okay. You’ll wait. You’ve waited before. You can wait a bit more.

Rosi will come back.

He’ll come back.

It was just a bad dream.

You curl into yourself, tired.

Rosi always comes back, no matter what.

You’ll make pancakes… and you’ll wait for Rosi. You’ll make a lot of batter so you can make him and Law loads when they come back. They’ll be hungry after their trip.

Early dawn was outside, and the blue sky was painted with clouds.

A knock came at your door. You dragged yourself to it, and opened the doors.

A dark-skinned, handsome man dressed in marine uniform and coat towered above you, twice your height, nearly three meters tall. His dark, charcoal eyes were red-rimmed, revealing he’d been crying. His usually slicked-back, tidy white hair was rumpled and untidy, as though he’d wrestled with someone.

“Wulf,” you say, staring at the tall navy commander.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse and morbidly quiet. “Can I come in?”

You open the doors wider, letting him in. Wulf closes the doors behind himself, locking them with the key in the keyhole.

“I’ll go make you some tea,” you offered, hurrying to the light blue kitchen to place the kettle on the stove and grab a tea bag

“No,” he said. “I’m not here for…” He clenched his eyes shut. His large body shuddered.

“You can sit down while I —”

“I don’t want tea, dammit!” snapped Wulf.

His yell made you flinch, and you turned still.

“Fuck,” Wulf breathed, full of pain, tears glistening at his eyelashes. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, quieting his voice. “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

Wulf’s large body slumped down, landing on the large white couch. He lowered his head to the floor. His large, dark hands lifted up to his hair, grabbing at the thick strands tight. He closed his eyes, a look of pain on his face.

“It’s okay,” you offered quietly.

There was no emotion in your dull, lifeless eyes, empty of any spark. You could see how tired Wulf was. He probably didn’t sleep a wink. He looked an absolute mess. You weren’t ready to look in the mirror to see how much of a mess you were.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Wulf spoke up. “We need to send a search party out for Law. He wasn’t the boy the Minion marine patrol took into custody.”

Search party? For Law? But that would mean… that would mean Wulf would have to explain to Sengoku who Law was.

“No,” you breathed.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you dare tell them about Law!”

Wulf’s eyes widened at the sudden surge of life in your dull eyes. You were tightly gripping the collar of his white dress shirt with both your hands, staring at him with a numerous amount of emotions filling your eyes, your face.

“If Law’s alive, they’ll go after him because he’s got the powers of the Op-Op Fruit!” you yelled at him. “Don’t you dare make Rosi’s death be for nothing!”

You froze.

Oh.

You said it.

Death.

That’s right.

Your fingers let go of Wulf’s collar.

Rosinante…

Died.

A chill swept through your body, making you shiver.

“Law,” you whisper, trying to keep yourself together, keeping your sanity stitched with the thoughts of the little boy. “We need to find Law.”

“Minion -”

“Why aren’t you and your team setting sail for it already?!” you asked desparately. What if Doflamingo sent his agents to scour the island? What if Law was...

“If I’m to ask for a marine ship, I need to give them a good reason!”

“You never did shit by the book, Wulf! That was Rosi!”

“Yeah, and I always got sent flying across Marineford by Sengoku for it, or did you forget that part?”

“I’ll call the patrol on Minion and tell them to look for Law.”

“No!” you yelled. “Doflamingo’s got a spy in the Navy! He’ll find out Law’s still there and find him before you!”

You could see Wulf’s thoughts racing in his head. “Then, I’ll send Hibou -”

“Hibou doesn’t fly fast enough! You can’t send him there alone! Law doesn’t trust marines!”

Wulf hesitated. “It took me and Rosi longer than a day to activate our Devil Fruits… Law might not be…”

“Law is a genius!” you yelled. “He’s going to be the best doctor in the world! Some stupid disease won’t kill him!”

Law was not dead. Your husband believed in Law, and you believed in Law, too. That kid was strong. Stronger than you were.

Law had fallen asleep reading on your lap. You put a blanket over him, but anytime you tried to remove yourself from him, the boy would murmur disagreeably, clutching onto your pants with his tiny fingers in his sleep. Rosinante cooed over him, snapping a few pictures of Law — and some of the two of you — with the camera snail because you two were the most adorable sight on the planet, according to the younger Donquixote. But you could see it in his brown eyes. Rosinante was worried sick for Law.

“Don’t worry, Rosi,” you said, reaching out with your free hand — the other one was running gently down Law’s dark hair — to take your husband’s much larger one, settling it over his scarred, pale palm.

“Our boy is too strong to die,” you said firmly.

The touch and words appeared to break Rosinante out of the pit of his thoughts, the blond man sitting beside you turning to look at you, wide-eyed.

“Our?” asked Rosinante in a whisper.

“What?” you asked, blinking.

Rosinante sniffled. His eyes glazed over, his lips trembling. Before you could see what was wrong with him, the blond turned away from you shyly.

“Rosi, are you crying?” you asked, worried.

“N-No!” squeaked the big, blond man, hiding his face in the pillow of the white couch of the home you shared, wiping at his teary eyes. “No, what are you talking about? I’m not crying!”

You smiled softly, a swell of affection blooming within you, overwhelmed by love you felt for him. Rosinante was so kind and gentle, with a truly bleeding heart. It was one of the reasons you fell in love with him on first sight — his kindness and clumsiness won you over right away.

“Our, huh?” murmured Rosinante softly.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, making sure there was no question about it. You were willing to die for the boy sleeping on your lap. You were willing to fight the entire world for this boy, were willing to die for him. “He’s our boy now.”

“Yeah.” The smile lit up Rosinante’s face, casting him in heavenly light; he looked like an angel, his soft brown eyes staring gently down at the sleeping boy. “He is.”

“Our treasure.” whispered Rosinante, reaching down to caress Law’s cheek with his fingers.

Wulf took a breath.

“Okay. If there is a spy, as you say, I’ll call Sengoku-san directly to lock down Rosi’s file.” Wulf shuddered. He looked down at you, full of worry. “If Doflamingo finds out about you, he’ll come to kill you. I’ll put Nietzche and Hibou on patrol around this island, and the rest of us will head to Minion -”

“No,” you said, something burning inside you. The next words came out of your mouth on instinct. “Use me as a lure.”

Wulf’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Use me as a lure,” you said, meeting Wulf’s gaze. “It’ll keep Doflamingo’s attention off of Minion Island long enough for you to get Law away. If Doflamingo comes, he comes. I know how to shoot a gun.”

Wulf frowned, disliking the idea entirely. “You don’t know what he’s -”

“Doflamingo killed him.”

The words are out. Because both of you knew. You and Wulf knew Rosinante wouldn’t get killed so easily. Nobody could kill Rosinante except Doflamingo, because Rosinante would have fought them tooth and nail, and there was no way anyone on Minion Island could have given Rosinante trouble — not even those top executives — except Doflamingo.

If it came down to having to directly hurt Doflamingo, you knew Rosinante wouldn’t be able to do it. You never faulted him for it. In fact, you loved him for it. You would never ask Rosinante to do such a thing, even if your own life was on the line. You’d rather die than force him to make such a choice, to even think about it.

Rosinante loved his brother more than anything, no matter what.

But it seemed Doflamingo loved power more than he loved Rosinante.

It sickened you. It infuriated you. Rosinante could never hurt Doflamingo, not for duty, not for revenge, not for anything. So how could Doflamingo hurt Rosinante?

“His only family… And Rosi told me enough to get a glimpse of what his brother is like. So if he finds out, he finds out. He’ll come here, and you all - all six of you, will go to Minion Island while he wastes time coming here, and you’ll take Law away from there.”

For a moment, Wulf said nothing, simply staring at you with his dark, black eyes, momentarily surprised by your words.

“You… aren’t trying to follow Rosi, are you? Because you know… you know he’d want you to stay alive, to take care of that kid.”

Chills rose on your spine, but they weren’t of fear. You didn’t raise your head. You simply lifted your eyes to Wulf’s, and let him see what was within them.

It wasn’t sadness, or a wish for death. It was determination, burning and fierce, mixed with burning fury.

Wulf sighed in defeat. He could tell by your eyes you weren’t going to back down from this.

“I’ll call in some favours for a ship. I’ll call you when I have everything ready.”

Wulf said your name.

“He killed my brother in arms.” said Wulf darkly. “It’s not just you or me who wants him dead.”

Wulf turned his head over his shoulder to gaze at you, his eyes full of bloodlust. “The crows are hungry for Doflamingo’s blood.”

“Shut the door after me,” Wulf said, then left.

You did just that. You walked back to the kitchen, breathing in and out. Your stomach felt empty. You needed to eat something.

Pancakes.

If it’s going to be your last meal, you want it to be a good one. Therefore, the pancakes with chocolate syrup is the best decision for the last meal. An easy, simple meal.

Your fingers tremble.

You can’t believe Rosinante is gone.

Simply… gone.

How are you supposed to wake up tomorrow knowing Rosinante will never be lying beside you again?

Tears well in your eyes. You take a breath, swallowing them down. You’re not allowed to cry again. Not yet. Not until you know Law is safe.

You head up the stairs to change from your night dress, heading back to yours and your husband’s bedroom. You survey your wardrobe.

Before you know it, you’re opening Rosinante’s part of the wardrobe, taking one of his blue shirts from the hanger, hugging it tight to your chest.

You kept holding on to the calm you got with him. You hold onto the scent of him you’ve come to know; coal and citrus, woody smells that he always wore that felt like a hug around your shoulders.

For a while, you sit on the bed, holding your husband’s shirt, trying to pretend he was there when you knew he wasn’t. Eventually, you returned back to the terrible reality, and put his dress shirt back on the hanger.

Light blue. You decide if you are going to get killed by your brother-in-law today, you want to die in light blue. It was Rosi’s favourite colour, and you grew a love for it over the years. You need somewhere to conceal a weapon. You grab black pants, put the light blue blouse over yourself, and get dressed.

You open the drawer in your night table, staring down at the small, black revolver. You pick it up, check the safety hammer is on, then check the cylinder holding six sea stone prism bullets. Loaded, ready to be fired.

You holster it under your blouse, making sure you can reach it quickly.

It’s silent. So silent.

You’ve never heard silence quite this loud.

You head to the kitchen to make the pancakes. You wished you’d made them before Wulf arrived; he needed something to eat.

The day is sunny, the birds are chirping in the trees. But there is a somber, mourning silence in your house. You gather the bowl to crack the eggs in and make the batter.

Rosi would already be stumbling out of your bedroom by now, dressed in his blue striped pyjamas, his blue sleeping hat atop his head, his sleepy face endearing in a handsome way, his blond waves of bed head swept in all directions, his hands rubbing the sleep off his eyes before he stretched his arms out and yawned to the point tears edged at his lower eyelashes.

Then, he’d see you and smile like the sun before greeting you with a happy, sweet, “Good morning!”

You look out of the window. The scenery in front of you is so vibrant, green forest and blue river. Doesn’t it know all your life has died? The most colourful painting is worthless to you.

You make the batter without having to think too much about it, so used to the movements they became second nature to you, just as fighting was second nature to Rosinante. You start the stove, listen to the clicking sound of the fire, adjust it, and set the frying pain on it, spreading butter along it. Then, you pour the batter in. The smell of the pancakes soothes you, and once the side is fried well, you flip it, and wait for the bubbles again.

They remind you of gunshot wounds.

Twenty gunshot wounds. Were they all from Doflamingo’s flintlock? Did the fucking bastard put twenty bullets in your husband, treating your husband like he was swiss cheese?

You set the first pancake on the plate, and make twenty more. You take the chocolate syrup and spread it over each one thoroughly with a butter knife, then roll the pancakes. You sprinkle sugar over them, and serve them at the center of the table.

“Look, Law! Pancakes!” cheered Rosinante happily to the little boy with the spotted hat trailing after his long legs like a baby penguin after its father; you held back a giggle at the two sleepyheads, smiling gently at them. 

Rosinante greeted you with a kiss, getting a “get a room!” from Law, and then he sat down at the table and inhaled the smell of the pancakes. 

“Ah, they smell so good, dear!” said Rosinante, smiling brightly at you.

“Come on, Law! Don’t be shy!” said Rosinante, patting the chair next to his. “This is my wife’s masterpiece! After you taste her pancakes, you’ll never want to eat anything else for the rest of your life! You can live on pancakes!”

“You can’t live on pancakes,” grumbled Law.

“Well, if you do end up liking them and want more, I’ve got more batter in the bowl, so I’ll make you more if you want, okay, Law?” you asked.

Law blushed. “Thank… you…”

You glanced at Rosinante questioningly, speaking with your eyes to him. Did Law not have pancakes with the Donquixote Pirates? Rosinante shook his head sadly, in a way that told you Law didn’t let himself be a kid, so he never ate ‘kid stuff’ like pancakes. 

Tentatively, Law took the rolled up pancake, and after glancing to Rosinante, who was eating his own with his hands — the pancake looked miniature in your husband’s fingers, almost like a toy — chomping down on the roll enthusiastically, Law did the same.

You nearly squealed from the cuteness as you watched the two eat.

Law’s eyes widened after the first bite, and then they lit up, filling with light. A small, tiny smile bloomed across his face, and he stared at the pancake with child-like joy.

There he was. A little boy, not a tough, pirate apprentice.

Law quickly devoured the pancake, the little smile on his face filling you with joy. You smiled happily.

Once Law realised he’d eaten the single pancake he took, he glanced from the plate, then toward you, and asked, “Can I have another?”

Rosinante cooed. “You can have my entire plate, you cute little pancake!”

To prove how much he meant it, Rosinante slid his plate of a pile of rolled-up pancakes to the little boy.

Law scowled, though to you it looked more like a cute, indignant pout with his cheeks puffed up that way.

“I’m not a pancake, Cora-san!” Law protested, for which he got a fond chuckle from Rosinante, who simply beamed down at him.

You giggled. They were so cute.

“Of course. You can have as much as you want, Law.” you said softly, smiling gently at the boy.

Law nodded, that little smile sneaking onto his face again.

You stared at the plate loaded with twenty rolled-up pancakes.

You made too much.

Tears started flowing down your eyes again, uncontrollable and wet. You wipe them from your cheeks, sniffling. But they keep coming out, so you let them cascade down your cheeks, letting them roll in silence as you sit down, murmur a sob-filled, “Thank you for the food.” and grab one pancake from the plate and force yourself to eat it.

The taste is great. But your taste buds can’t appreciate it. You start sobbing halfway, and your hands slide up to your face, covering your eyes. You rest your head on the dining room table and cry your eyes out into your forearms, hiccups and sobs shaking your body.

You can’t do this. You can’t do this. You can’t, you can’t...

It hurts too much. You're going to be sick —

Rosi... Rosi!

Your cries and sobs echo across the kitchen tiles, creating a tragic symphony.

After you’d cried yourself out to the point your chest hurts and your throat feels sore, you eat the pancake to the end.

Outside, the azure sky is impossibly clear. The cicadas are so loud. They make the loss of Rosinante’s silence more deafening. You’ve always had too sensitive and too precise of a hearing; you could hear droplets from a well ten meters away, and the slightest rustling of the leaves in the wind. You could pick up who was approaching you by the sound and weight of their footsteps — a thing that freaked some people out. It wasn’t any devil fruit; you stayed away from devil fruits because you had no need of them working as a translator for the marines, and you liked to swim.

Rosinante told you it could be a form of Observation Haki. Apparently, the advanced, one-in-a-million Observation Haki users are able to hear people’s inner voices. That sounded absolutely terrifying to you. How didn’t people go insane with that? It wasn’t an ability you wanted, and thankfully, your hearing didn’t seem to reach that crazy, abnormal level.

Rosinante was practically your sound therapy with his Devil Fruit. He made the world around you go silent, muted all the noises, be it the spinning of a washing machine, the shrieking of the birds, the insistent meowing of an alley cat, the barking dogs, the annoying cicadas that you thought about committing arson over by setting the entire forest on fire…

“Honey, that’s illegal. Also, I’m the one usually setting fire to stuff, it’s my whole thing!” Rosinante was genuinely distressed. He gave you a pleading look, pursing his lips, which started to quiver and tremble, his eyes filling with tears as he cried — his sad puppy look,which immediately melted your heart, making you coo internally. He was absolutely adorable. “You can’t do my thing!”

Rosinante snapped his fingers. “Silent!”

A purple sphere came alive, momentrily floating above his finger, and then enlarged, pulling the two of you into its space. All sound from outside vanished.

You launched yourself at him and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your legs around his wide waist. “I love you, Rosi! I love your Devil Fruit!”

Rosinante’s face grew deeper shades of red by the passing second, until, quite literally, the gathered temperature exploded in a burst of steam out of his ears, and your husband combusted into flames.

“I love you!” he yelled, peppering you with kisses, pulling you onto his lap, making you giggle and laugh. You squeezed your tall husband’s back as much as the length of your arms allowed you to.

“I love you more,” you said, staring up at him lovingly.

“Nuh-uh,” said Rosinante, his face turning serious. “I love you mo —”

You shut him up with a kiss, burying your fingers in his soft, silky golden hair, pulling him down to you.

Rosinante smiled into the kiss, admitted defeat, and enveloped your lips in a deep, long kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your head, his fingers warm and sweet on your cheek.

In the end, with how breathless and flushed Rosinante left you, you thought you were the defeated one in the end.

You can’t take it anymore. You want out. Out of this house that is full of memories of the happiness you two had, of so much potential, now silent like a grave.

You get your bag, grab some cash to buy groceries to make for lunch. Rosinante wouldn’t want you to wallow in misery, much less not eat. He was always fussy about making sure you ate, always insisting on serving you seconds, and you knew why. It broke your heart.

You reach the small port town, passing by people, your eyes unfocused, lost in memories. Your feet are leading you somewhere, a familiar path which you and Rosinante took many times.

You remembered when he surprised you the first time he managed to sneak away after completing his first mission for Doflamingo ahead of schedule, bearing you gifts, unaware his presence was the greatest gift to you of all.

In the early morning, your husband dragged you out of bed for a “surprise”. It would have been a normal, endearing, funny wake-up call if your husband’s arm wasn’t nearly the length of your entire body. Being dragged out of bed by Rosinante’s excited arm felt like being launched by a slingshot from one point to another.  And of course, the landing point ended up being Rosinante’s body, and because it was Donquixote Rosinante, he failed to consider his own pull strength — once again, slingshot fast — and that was how you ended up falling on his chest. He, of course, as the good marine he was, caught you so you don’t get hurt, and once more failed to take another of his natural skills into account.

His clumsiness. 

With a shriek as panicked as your own — albeit for different reasons — Rosinante moved to catch you, tripped midway and fell forward at the same time as you impacted him, and you ended up crashing into him midway on his fall, and he fell on his back rather than his front, you atop his chest. 

After you two looked at each other to check the other was okay, the two of you burst out into giggles on the floor.

Rosinante excitedly told you to get dressed (you chose a white summer dress), brought his backpack and led you through the island by the hand, still dressed in his pirate outfit of white trousers, pink shirt and black feather coat, smiling the entire way. You loved the feather coat, and you couldn’t help but comment how he and Doflamingo were now truly “bird brothers”. The look Rosinante gave you at that comment made you laugh for a minute straight, especially when he dramatically pulled off his purple sunglasses to blink at you repeatedly.

You two walked for a while. You told Rosinante about your days, how everyone was very helpful and welcoming, and let him know about the invitation for a barbeque party tomorrow, and Rosinante agreed — he did have to meet the other marines on the island, along with their families. 

Rosinante came to a stop in front of a steep hill. 

“It’s right up this way,” said Rosinante, smiling in that adorable way that made him even more handsome. “I’ll carry you up.”

You gulped.

“Are you sure you can trek this, Rosinante?” you asked, holding some doubts. You’d seen your husband fall down the entire fifty meter flight of stone stairs of Marineford like a bouncing ball many times when you met him, and this hill had plenty of rocky, dirt-covered terrain.

You could already imagine Rosinante rolling down it like a pancake covered in black feathers. Or... Like an ostrich.

This hill and forest looked like something for hikers, and no offense to Rosinante, but he and hiking don’t go hand in hand, so your hesitation was well-founded.

“Yup,” said Rosinante, beaming down at you. “Up you go, mi amor.”

Without much arguing from you — because you’d never refuse being carried bridal style by your favourite man in the world, falling to your death be damned — he perched down, bending his knees to be at your height, and picked you up carefully, one hand under your knees, the other on your back.

It’s comfortable. Rosinante is warm, his long, strong arms cradling you close to his chest like the most precious treasure, and you feel like a princess swathed in the black feathers of his feather coat and his embrace. You close your eyes, resting your head on his chest, on the soft fabric of his pink dress shirt scattered with hearts.

Rosinante started uphill, trekking upon the soil with the confidence of a man who braved deep snow, heavy rain and thick mud many times throughout his life. Large, lush pine trees towered around you, the forest rich with fresh air that mixed with the soft coal scent of your husband. You pass by moss-covered rocks, glimpse squirrels curiously looking down at the giant, lanky blond man from their branches high above, chipping away at pine cones and walnuts in their tiny fingers. Their big brown eyes reminded you of Rosinante’s. After five minutes of Rosinante climbing uphill, the terrain turns flat, and he walks through the thicketed vegetation, the leaves of high bushes and branches brushing across his waist. Sunlight sneaks through the canopy of the trees, touching you and him occasionally, dappling you two in warm light.

“Okay,” said Rosinante. “I’ll put you down now.”

After he puts you down to the ground, Rosinante takes your hand, twining his long fingers between the spaces of yours, and leads you through the maze of greenery, further and further, deeper into the forest, where it becomes more quiet with every step. His long fingers, tucked between yours, holding your hand tight, chase away any anxiety or insecurity you might feel in the new, unknown surrounding.

A high, towering wall of leaves and shrubs conceals your view to whatever lies ahead.

“Close your eyes.”

You chuckle, but do so.

“Wait here,” Rosinante told you. “Don’t open your eyes!”

You laugh. “I won’t.”

You put your free hand over your closed eyes to reassure him of it.

Rosinante’s long fingers — calloused from training, falling and scarred from all the battles he won and survived — slide out of the embrace of yours.

You wait for a few minutes, wondering what sort of surprise he must have for you. You couldn’t hear anything. Rosinante must have used his Devil Fruit so you can’t hear what he’s doing. All you can hope for is that your sweet husband’s ‘surprise’ doesn’t involve anything flammable.

“Okay!” Rosinante chirped behind you, making you shriek and leap at the sudden revelation of his presence, which made him chuckle. “Ready?”

You peek through your fingers to look at him. Rosinante’s smile and excitement is infectious, making you smile to the point your cheeks hurt.

“Yup,” you said.

“Hey!" your husband scolds when he notices your eyes between the tiny space of your fingertips. “No peeking!”

You huff, but relent, covering your eyes fully again.

Rosinante takes your hand, and leads you forward. You keep your eyes closed. Leaves brush over your face, and you feel the warmth of the sunlight on your skin again.

“Okay... Three... Two...”

“One.”

You opened your eyes, gasping at the sight. In front of you and Rosinante was a blooming field of blue forget-me-nots, forming a large circle around the pine forest.

There, among the blue flowers, was a picnic blanket, a picnic basket filled with food atop it.

A giddy smile on his face, pleased with your joy at his successful surprise, Rosinante led you by the hand toward the picnic blanket where all the food awaited.

You two sit down beside each other. You can’t speak; you’re completely speechless.

Rosinante had made you an entire feast; there were rice balls, black bean soup, chocolate cream cakes, muffins with chocolate chips, grilled toast with melted cheese that made your mouth water at the mere sight of it, blackberries and black risotto with chopped cuttlefish meat. 

Rosinante was by no means a lousy cook, in fact, he was quite good at cooking (you were surprised by it the first time, too, especially when he told you he spent a lot of time cooking with Sengoku when he was a kid) but he had to be monitored so he doesn’t set the entire house on fire.

When you opened the container holding the black risotto, hot steam surged out. The black risotto smelled absolutely heavenly. It tasted heavenly, too — it was the perfect amount of ingredients and flavours that you moaned aloud.

Dear gods, Rosinante’s black risotto was to die for. It was one of the meals both you and your husband enjoyed, eating it at a restaurant in Marineford every Friday on your lunch break together even before you’d started dating. The black colouring of the food was due to the squid ink used in the recipe. You both loved it so much that it became your go-to food to make.

Rosinante pulled out a champagne bottle from the basket, further impressing you.

“I snatched this one from Doffy’s liquor cabinet. 1480.” Rosinante smirked smugly, waving the bottle victoriously. “He should’ve drank it while he could.”

You laughed. Rosinante may not talk good things about his brother, but stealing liquor from his brother was a very sibling thing to do. It was clear Rosinante loved pulling pranks on Doflamingo.

While Rosinante said this, removing the golden foil, distractedly unwinding the cage, his eyes focused on you, he forgot to move the bottle away from himself.

The cork launched out of the seal with a loud pop. By some stroke of luck, the cork missed hitting Rosinante’s head, but the golden liquor bursting with bubbles did not. After you heard the satisfying pop, all you could do was stare in shock as champagne sprayed your husband in the face.

His golden waves of hair sogged like a wet dog’s, sparkling liquid running down his cheeks, trailing across his pale neck, sliding down his collarbone and over his chest, staining his wet shirt.

“Rosi!” you cried. “Are you okay?”

Rosinante laughed softly, rich and warm.

“I’m okay,” he replied, looking down at you in that tender, gentle way that filled your heart and made butterflies fly in your stomach.

His long tongue flicked out, licking along his lips, tasting the champagne he spilled. You feel your face flush when you realise you’d looked at his tongue attentively.

“Tastes good,” he said.

You chuckled fondly, watching champagne drip from his golden bangs. “I’m sure it does.”

“Does it smell good?” he asked as you reached for a towel in the basket. You sat between his sprawled, spread out, long legs, brushing off the liquid you could spot.

“Yeah,” you said, chuckling, continuing to pat his face and shirt. It smelled fresh. “It does.”

Rosinante smiled goofily. He gave you your glass, then poured the champagne, and next poured it to himself in his own.

“What do we toast to?” he asked.

“Love and health?” you suggested.

“Love and health!” agreed Rosinante. “Salud!”

“Salud!”

The two of you clinked your champagne glasses together, then drank a few sips of champagne. Rosinante took two large gulps of it instead of humble sips.

When the plastic plates were all cleaned up and the food was gone, stored away in your stomachs, you asked him the question you had since the start of this surprise date, “When did you cook all this?”

“After you fell asleep.” Rosinante’s long arms wrapped around you, a movement he started doing by instinct with how many times he’d done it. You leaned back into him, sinking into his embrace, comfortable between his legs. “The muffins and chocolate cakes are bought. I bought them first thing in the morning, while you were still sleeping.”

You smiled; your husband had always been sneaky, both literally and figuratively.

The blond hung his head sullenly, looking like a sad puppy. He puffed out smoke to the side, mindful not to blow it in your face. “Sorry, my love. I’m no good at baking…”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you said, leaning into his strong body and planting a kiss on his cheek, which made him perk up, a sweet blush painting his cheeks, soon followed by his goofy smile. “And what you did cook is delicious, as were the cakes and muffins you bought.”

“Thank you, Rosinante.” you said, full of joy. “This is beautiful.”

Rosinante chuckled, a charming, gentle, yet deep sound. It made your heart race in your chest. It still didn’t feel real that this wonderful man was yours. The knowledge of it rushed goosebumps up your spine.

To think you’d find a true prince charming in this world. He had come straight down from heaven and accidentally bumped right into you. He was straight out of a fairytale, brown eyes and golden locks of wavy hair tickling his earlobes.

Rosinante looks so pretty, like an angel.

“It’s nothing to thank me for.” Rosinante’s long fingers laced between the spaces of yours, his wedding ring pressing against yours. “You always take care of me. It's my job to take care of you, too, you know. It’s nice to be away from Marineford. I get you all to myself.”

Rosinante’s lips lifted into a sly, flirtatious smile, his eyes lowering to your lips, a hint of hunger flashing in his brown eyes. “And we’re all alone… this place is pretty well hidden.”

You picked up on his meaning and smiled brightly. Your hand slid up his chest, carefully tracing along the hearts on the pink fabric, along his strong, firm shoulder, brushing against his nape, sliding up into the blond, golden curls of his soft hair, running your fingers through it slowly. All the while, Rosinante’s body leaned closer and closer to yours like a magnet of north finding its south, his large hand settling on the middle of your back, pulling you flush to him, towering over you, until all you could see, smell and breathe was him.

“Is that so, commander…” you murmured, meeting his intense gaze with half-lidded eyes.

Rosinante cradled your chin between his thumb and index finger, brought your face up to his, his half-lidded eyes soft and hungry, a charming curve of his lips rendering you breathless. Your breath hitched, staring into his intense gaze — in that moment, you saw the heavenly, commanding intensity inside your husband’s seductive eyes, lighting a fire in your chest. You were being looked at by a real god.

Rosinante kissed you, soft and deep.

“I’m back,” you say to the empty field of blue flowers.

You lay down among the field of the blue forget-me-nots and close your eyes, hoping the flowers will swallow you. Hoping they will enter your lungs, suffocate you, and end you, give you your last, final, living breath. Your tears soak the blue petals of the flowers you and Rosinante used to lay among.

Rosinante used to lie right here beside you, the halo of his blond curly hair shining among the blue blossoms.

Now, there is only the gaping hole of sorrow, a void. An emptiness. You don’t feel anything.

You closed your eyes, clutching Rosinante’s picture tightly between your fingers. You lay there on your side, crying silently among the blue petals where you and your husband once laid together.

No one ever told you that grief feels like fear. You are not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same terrible sinking in the stomach, the same restlessness, the same yawning hole.

It sinks in.

Rosinante isn’t coming home to you.

***

“Excuse me?”

The owner of the flower shop jumped at the deep voice. She turned, and had to look up, and then had to look up more, and then some more, and stared at a handsome man with blond, spiked-up hair, dressed in a red suit with a red tie, sunglasses concealing his eyes.

“Do you know where the Donquixote residence is?” the man asked.

“If you’re looking for Commander Rosinante, he’s away on marine business.”

The stranged blinked - or at least, she assumed he did, by his expression.

“You don’t know?” the exceptionally tall man asked.

“Know what, sir?”

“Rosinante is dead,” the blond man in the red suit delivers the terrible news bluntly, calmly, without any deep emotion, as though he’s telling her about the weather; it reminds her of veteran marines who have seen too much death and have grown used to it. He is staring down at her, into her eyes, with a serious look.

“Oh goodness!” the florist cried, eyes wide. “That poor man... When did it happen?”

“Yesterday evening,” said the blond man blatantly, his voice still calm, his expression still serious. “The news coo hasn’t flown out yet, so only the marines and family know for now. He’ll be in the obituary today or tomorrow.”

“I see... So you’re looking for —”

“His wife,” said the man.

The florist pursed her lips. The man with the unnerving resemblance to Commander Rosinante, despite being devilishly handsome and appearing not to have a single evil bone in his body or hold any malicuious intent, was still a stranger to her.

“Please,” the man with the hair the colour of the yellow primroses says, a desperation in his face. “I’d like to surprise her. Cheer her up. We haven’t seen each other a long time. She shouldn’t be alone.”

The flower shop owner’s heart throbbed at the words and the look of raw pain on the tall man’s face. She had no idea Commander Rosinante had died… and yesterday evening, at that… That was why you’d been wandering around aimlessly, like you were a ghost not meant fo stay in the world. You must have gotten the news… you poor thing.

“Mrs Donquixote lives in a house near the river,” said the shop owner. She pointed to the right end of the cobblestone street. “You take a right there, then a left. It’s a bit farther in the richer district, but that’s the sort of accomodations a Commander and his wife deserve. I can’t believe he's gone… He was such a wonderful man. His son will be devastated.”

The tall man tensed up, flinching.

(In that moment, Donquixote Doflamingo experienced a small heart attack thinking he was an uncle and there was a baby with you — his brother’s baby.)

“...son?” he breathed; his entire tone of voice changing, he sounded shocked and hesitant.

“This little boy. Law, I think. ” The man’s body slumped, as though he was relieved. “He was the sweetest thing. Quiet, but what sick child wouldn’t be? He always clung to Commander Rosinante when I saw them in town. No doubt Commander took him from the battlefield. I suppose he took the boy to the marines to try to find his parents, or to ensign him into the force.”

The blond man’s lips twitched slightly. “I see… Thank you for the help.”

The man turned to leave.

“She likes primroses,” blurted the shop owner. She glanced to the man’s glazed-up hair, and then to the yellow primroses - Mrs Donquixote’s favourite flowers - and was struck dumb.

The sharply dressed man’s blond hair was the exact same colour as the flowers.

“Like your hair, sir.”

“My hair?” asked the man.

The florist nodded. “Yellow primroses.”

The man smiles, and once more, the woman is hit by how similar to Commander Rosinante he looks - so similar he could be his brother! What a strange resemblance!

“Then, a bouquet of yellow primroses, please,” says the man dressed in the merlot suit, handing over a bill of five thousand berri. “And keep the change.”

“Oh, no, no, dear.” she said with a shake of her head, arranging the bouquet of yellow flowers, not taking the offered bill. “You keep your money. Just get her these, all right?”

The man’s mouth opened in a slight ‘o’, and he stared at her in surprise. He looked goofy, and so similar to the same expression Commander Rosinante made when he was shocked or taken by surprise.

However, he nodded, accepting the flowers.

“And... stay by her side.” The florist said. “Don’t let her be alone.”

An emotion crossed the man’s tanned, handsome face; he looked like he was in pain.

The blond man pulls the bouquet of yellow flowers to his chest, his long, puppeteer-like fingers holding them protectively.

“I will,” he promised.

He turned and left in the direction of the Donquixote residence. The florist was unable to keep her eyes off of him. What a sharp-looking, well-dressed man…

And so handsome! Oh, if she was only thirty years younger, she would have definitely asked him for his transponder snail number, or whatever the youth use these days.

***

The moment he was out of the small town, Doflamingo used his strings and flew high into the air, using the same basic of given directions to locate your house.

It didn’t take him long to find the river, and as he approached the flatlands of the island, he saw many houses scattered around. Probably those of families of retired high-ranking marine officers and their families. likely from other high-ranked retired marines and their families.

Doflamingo landed in front of the wooden fence surrounding a garden. A white, two-story house stood down the garden.

Doflamingo saw rows of cabbages beside the dirt path, their green leaves shielding the plant’s head. There was a roofed porch leading to the entrance doors. The garden fence didn’t even reach to his knees. Doflamingo stepped over it.

It looked rather a lot like a farmhouse, but without the farm — Doflamingo would have heaved if there were farm animals around being used for sustenance — and with the garden and yard.

A crow gave a caw. Doflamingo turned to the sound, and nearly cut a human-like silhouette’s head off with his strings.

It was a scarecrow. Not any scarecrow. Doflamingo stood eye-level with it, staring at the shiny red sunglasses, white dress shirt and white capri pants with red flame patterns the scarecrow of hay wore.

Doflamingo’s lips twitched; he felt like laughing, and barely withheld it not to make any noise. It was certainly a likeness.

Corazón must have stolen one of his sunglasses for it.

Chuckling, Doflamingo prowled toward the porch, and stood in front of the entrance doors.

Should he knock?

Doflamingo smiled maliciously, full of menace.

No.

Donquixote Doflamingo, hands in the pockets of his merlot suit pants, kicked down the doors of his sister-in-law’s house.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called.

The only sound in the space lit by the windows letting the light in was the whoosh of the curtains.

“Huh…?”

She isn’t even home to be surprised!

Scoffing in annoyance at his entrance being ruined by not having you witness it, Doflamingo entered through the door frame into the living room lit by natural light coming from the curtains.

“Tch.”

Guess she’s still in town. Did she go to buy groceries for lunch?

“Hm?”

A large picture caught his attention.

Oh.

You’re beautiful.

It was a picture of you, Rosinante, and Law. All of you are smiling at the camera, showing the peace sign. Doflamingo stares at his little brother’s big smile, because it’s the first time he sees it on him, having never seen it on his brother as an adult.

Doflamingo’s mouth forms into a sneer.

Thinking you could have your cake and eat it too, huh, Corazón? You bastard. You liar. You traitor.

Doflamingo exhaled. It didn’t matter anymore. Your husband’s sins were not yours. His brother already paid for his betrayal, and Doflamingo had forgiven him for it. You were a Donquixote by marriage with his brother, therefore, you were under Doflamingo’s protection, and the only real family he had left. As the head of the Donquixote family, since your husband was gone, your care, happiness and health were Doflamingo’s responsibility now. In Mariejois, the head of the family is expected to care for the close family members such as this. Celestial Dragons leave no family behind. If you and Doflamingo were in Holy Land, he would do the same; do anything to provide for you, take you into his home, care for you.

By Celestial traditions and rules of the Holy Land, you belong to Doflamingo now.

Doflamingo frowns. It’s an entire life here, in these pictures. A life Doflamingo never knew about, never asked about. Because he’d trusted his little brother.

A life Doflamingo was completely left out of.

Reading about the Fleet Admiral adopting his brother was one thing, seeing his little brother, dressed in marine cadet garb, shyly looking at the camera with Sengoku’s hand on his shoulder was another. More people started appearing in the pictures as his brother grew, as he got leaner and stronger, as he cut his bangs not to cover his eyes anymore, and eventually, you were in the pictures with his brother, too — it was so unbearably obvious you two were going to be together by the way you two smiled, by the way you held each other, your body languages speaking with the way you leaned toward each other — that when he arrived to the single photo of the two of you in the living room in Water 7 (undoubtedly tyour honeymoon destination), it felt like you and his brother had been married way before he wore his wedding suit and you your wedding dress.

Doflamingo climbed up the stairs towards the bedrooms. He needed to know what sort of clothes you liked to wear.

The master bedroom was large, walls painted sky blue, with a large three meter long bed in the middle, and a large white wardrobe.

Doflamingo scoffed, unimpressed. What a dump of a master bedroom. Is this where the magic was supposed to happen? It wasn’t very magical to Doflamingo. It looked like any plain bedroom in the taverns he stayed in.

Doflamingo walked to the closet, and opened it. There was no walk-in closet here. What a disgrace. This isn't how their mother raised them to treat their spouses.

The clothes in your wardrobe were so ordinary... so plain...

Well, it didn’t matter. Doflamingo was going to buy proper clothes for a beautiful woman like you.

Curiousity got the better of him, and he opened his brother’s wardrobe.

Ten pristinely white marine coats hung from the clothing rack, paired with blue dress shirts.

That was a lot of coats.

Doflamingo let out a snort, shaking his head at his brother’s affliction to set his clothes on fire. Some things never change. Whoever thought giving his little brother a lighter was a good idea must have been a madman.

Donquixote Rosinante, commander of the most deadly assassination and spy unit of the marines, the Crow Corps. Doflamingo had heard about them, but never knew their identities - they were thought not to exist, really. For all his years in the underworld, Doflamingo never encountered them — or maybe he had, and was not aware of it.

The Crow Corps were a myth, a story to scare the sailors with, a marine legend pirates talked about when something went incredibly amiss in intelligence gathering and the underworld.

“Must’ve been the Crow Corps.”

“Beware the Crow Corps, they’re the marines’ eyes and ears; they can hear you through the thickest walls and see you in the darkest shadow.”

Doflamingo would have felt proud of his brother’s achievements if he didn’t see how dim-witted his baby brother really was, throwing all of his hard work away to save Law.

After checking your shirt, dress, skirts, pants and shoe sizes, he also pulled out a few bras to get an insight on your bra size — he needed to know it be able to buy you proper, nice undergarments, not this cotton, wire bullshit — he started scouring boxes in Rosinante’s wardrobe. Maybe he’d find some information on the marines there, a blueprint, a floor plan, sailing routes, anything really. Instead, all he found was Rosinante’s official documents, and the copy of the marriage contract. You two had even gotten a house in Marineford free of charge. He was surprised how well the marines took care of their families, but it wasn’t new. Better to encourage families and support them so they give you more little marines to train and send out to get killed in battle.

Doflamingo took your personal documents from your nightstand’s drawer. You’d need those with him. Registrating your identity again would be a risk — he didn’t plan on letting you off the ship the first two weeks, little less to risk taking you to a registration office for you to get your identity card again. Putting them into his pocket, he also folded the only single good file of clothing that fit his standards — a beautiful light blue silk dress — and put that into the pocket of his feather coat, too.

With that done, he left the master bedroom, and headed back downstairs into the open living room and kitchen, and started scouring through the drawers in the living room, too. He paused when he found a video snail, with writing on its shell.

Our Wedding

Footage. Of his little brother’s wedding.

Doflamingo took the snail from the shelf, pulled down the projector screen on the wall opposite of the large white couch, and set up the snail. He sat down on the couch and turned the snail on.

The first thing he saw was the man standing beside his brother as his brother’s best man.

That was the crazy zoan shithead that attacked him ten years ago.

Doflamingo clenched his teeth, his chest inflated as he inhaled in fury. The blood vessels on his forehead exposed themselves, throbbing along with his rage. He wanted to break something.

That one? That half-Lunarian scum was Rosi’s best man instead of Doflamingo?

It seemed Rosinante had abandoned him as a brother way before he tried to destroy his life.

But Doflamingo had never abandoned Rosinante. He’d trusted him. He’d loved him. Rosinante was his precious, sweet little brother, the one he trusted the most in the entire world, the one person nobody — nobody — was allowed to hurt. And what did Doflamingo get for trusting him, for protecting him, for loving him, because who else if not his brother by blood, who else if not his equal, his fellow god?

All his plans nearly ruined, Law fleeing after eating the Op-Op Fruit, and his little brother pointing a gun at him.

In the end, after all that, after screwing everything up, aware of what he’d done, how he’d betrayed him... Rosinante didn’t even have the guts to do it to the end and pull the fucking trigger.

Doflamingo returned his attention to the projection on the wall.

His brother was dressed in the usual wedding marine outfit; soft light blue suit, light blue waistcoat, white dress shirt and light blue tie with floral prints of small forget-me-not flowers.

However, Doflamingo found his eyes pasted to you, staring at you intensely, taking in your wedding dress. It complimented your figure, hugging your delicate curves, with an open back, off-shoulder, with flower-patterned lace sleeves. The off-shoulder dress revealed your delicate collarbone and shoulders, temptation in white lace.

What a beauty you were.

Doflamingo was impressed. His brother cleaned up well. No wonder you were all over him — his brother finally dressed as was proper for his godly status. If only his brother dressed like that all the time, and not like a clown…

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” the cheering of the guests filled the room.

Doflamingo could tell by the way your eyes looked at his brother. You loved his brother deeply.

Rosinante leaned down, and you met him half-way, hugging him around the waist happily — oh yes, you very much loved his brother, thought Doflamingo, amused — and the two of you shared another kiss as newlyweds.

Applause and cheers erupted. More confetti rained down on Corazón and you, a few scraps of it landing on your heads, strewn over his brother’s golden hair.

It didn’t escape Doflamingo’s notice how close Corazón held you to himself, and kissed you again, more passionate and deeper this time, making the crowd cheer and whistle.

Doflamingo chuckled. Who knew his quiet, sweet little brother was so passionate and possessive with his wife… he sure liked playing the good marine boy, but he was certainly a greedy, selfish man.

Just like Doflamingo.

Doflamingo heard a whistle from behind the video snail, “Leave some for the honeymoon, Rosi!”

“Oh, shut up, Wulf. Gimme that!”

His brother’s face entered the frame, his light brown eyes looking at the recorder snail, blinking. Doflamingo blinked back, staring at his brother who was without his make-up and beanie.

Rosi.

“Why’re you taking pictures?”

“It’s a video snail, Rosi.”

“Oh!”

“Hiiii!” said Rosinante, waving at the snail’s eyes, smiling wide and bright like the sun, golden and white, truly like a god. “We just got married!”

Doflamingo stared at the screen, watching his little brother smiling and waving at him.

You laughed, and Doflamingo felt his breath hitch at the sweet, gentle sound, staring at your smile; it was like an angel smiling.

“Well,” murmured Doflamingo, lounging back on the large white couch, staring at you; you looked beautiful in that wedding dress, like an angel. How on earth his brother held himself back from taking you and ripping your dress off your body was anyone’s guess. “You got something right.” The pirate smiled darkly. “What a pretty thing your wife is, fufufufu!”

“What are you doing, recording all the time? Hibou is stealing your ladies, you know.”

“Not that I mind!” came another man’s voice.

“I’m putting my flirty boy hat down for tonight!” announced Wulf determinantly. “I’m your best man, it’s my duty to record everything!”

“Isn’t that the photographer’s job?” asked Rosinante.

“Not when you promise the photographer a piece of this,” said Wulf with a grin, touching his body clad in the sky blue suit from the waist up to his white slicked-back hair, giving the snail a flirtatious wink, “in exchange for him giving you the video snail.”

“Wulf…”

“What? You two aren’t the only ones fucking at the end of the night!”

Rosinante’s face turned a deep pink, while you chuckled.

Doflamingo skipped forward, past the procession and the feast, and over the speeches. He stopped to watch the couple’s first dance.

Rosinante took you by the hand and led you onto the podium of leaves. The band started playing a slow, romantic song mainly focused on piano and violin. Rosinante pulled you close (with surprising elegance Doflamingo never thought him capable of, clumsy as his brother was) and pulled you into a slow waltz. For long minutes, you two danced, spinning and swaying, blue and white blending together perfectly, like the sky and the clouds.

The music continued, and Doflamingo watched you rest your head on his brother's shoulder when he bent down, resting his forehead against your temple, kissing your hair. You pulled your head up from his brother's shoulder, and that sweet look would have made Doflamingo bend down and kiss you. Instead of doing that, Rosinante laid his forehead against yours, and as you two swayed together to the slow music, staring into each other's eyes, your lips moved, forming words Doflamingo couldn't hear from the music. Rosinante smiled gently at you, his lips moving, making the same shape of words as yours did.

The music muted it, but Doflamingo could tell. He knew the shape Rosi’s lips formed, what words they whispered to you, pressed together with you as his brother was, the two of you like swans entangled in each other’s wings.

“I love you.”

Getting hungry — and wanting snacks to watch the show — Doflamingo headed to the kitchen to get some beer and chips.

Doflamingo paused in the dining room, his eyes catching onto the plate on the dinner table. It was a plate with a tower of pancakes, covered in chocolate syrup. Were you expecting someone? A marine guard to take you away from the island and to Marineford for the funeral?

Well…

Doflamingo grinned.

Finders keepers.

He snatched one and devoured it in one bite.

The chocolate syrup and chocolate filling inside created a wonderful flavour in his mouth.

Delicious.

Doflamingo grabbed the next pancake, feeling absolutely no shame in eating the pancakes you made for someone else.

As Doflamingo eats the full plate of pancakes, he walks around, surveying the pictures of you and his brother atop the fireplace. There is a large, binded book, and after cleaning his gloves from chocolate and sugar with a napkin, Doflamingo picks it up.

It’s a photo album. He grins. Bingo.

Doflamingo gets himself comfortable on the white couch, puts the flowers and the plate of pancakes on each thigh, opens up the photo album, grabs another pancake from the plate and looks through the pictures of you and his brother as he waits for you to come home.

***

Whenever you had nightmares, Rosinante used to say, “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

Those words feel empty and meaningless now. Rosi is gone. He can’t protect you anymore, no matter how much you wish he would.

You open the doors of the house, enter, and close them behind you, locking them from the inside.

It takes you a moment, but you notice it.

There is something in the darkness.

A tall, shadowy figure of a man, hunched over, long spine bent, his long, lanky legs crossed over each other, and…

The darkness outlined the silhouette of dark feathers of a massive coat upon his broad shoulders, covering his back.

Hope blooms within you.

“Rosi?”

A sinister, deep, wicked laugh resounded in the darkness, breaking through the silence. The malice within it sunk your gut, shivering your bones with fear; you felt like you were going to be sick. It sounded like evil incarnate.

That isn’t Rosi’s voice. That isn’t Rosi’s laugh. Rosi never laughed like that – ever.

You didn’t know how you managed to flick the light switch on to see which madman it was, but you did.

The first thing you saw when light illuminated the living room was…

Red — merlot red.

For a moment, the colour blinds you. Your focus returns, and you make out what the merlot red is. It’s a tailored, merlot double-breasted suit jacket with golden buttons with a black dress shirt tucked underneath it, a crimson tie tucked neatly in the collar, all of it paired with merlot suit pants.

A man was here. It wasn’t Rosinante.

Golden rings dangled from his tanned earlobes, their shiny reflection lost in the dark shadows of your home, their glitter extinguished. He had a long neck, similar to a flamingo’s, thick and muscular. White-framed sunglasses obscured his eyes. Their tinted, reflective lenses coloured like a bloody sunset stared right back at you, coated crimson in the darkness.

A wide, crescent-shaped, demonic smile bloomed on his face, stretching ear-to-ear, baring all of his white teeth.

That smile froze the blood in your veins.

Your husband’s older brother, Donquixote Doflamingo lounged on the white couch, legs spread wide on each side, grinning at you.

****

Let's say Doflamingo fixed the doors he kicked down, bcs... He wanted that element of surprise. This fic (this chapter particularly) has been in the works for a long time, I just wanted to share it already. If there are any missing scenes connecting between paragraphs - no there aren't. Actually, I appreciate if you guys say to me if there are. There are so many times I can proof read 11.7k words before my brain explodes. Some notes for the chapter and references.

Reader howling to the sky in mourning after finding out about Rosinante's death - for imagination purposes, it's literally Luffy screaming after Ace dies. It was a direct reference to it, and that's how I imagined Reader looking - same expression as Luffy.

The "Rosinante is dead." Doflamingo delivered the news the same way Luffy said "Ace is dead." to Tama in Wano.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @queenmimi2817 @dummyduck44 @pinejayy @tellynojelly @capycapy-bara @dilf-destroyer-04 @yataidiot @orioncipher @isebauwolf @r-amenegg @skullfacedlady

[sneakyfox55]

IHDRFKJHKJFFJKF I LOVE THESE OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

I can totally see Chara and Moon both messing with/pranking Sans

In Waterfall Moon just like swats at him from the ceiling

But he quickly learns that Sans isn’t to be messed with? Or maybe Sans indulges him for laughs and lets him be a pest, who knows?

Moon hisses at Flowey. I don’t make the rules

You're SO RIGHT. Here are some quick doodles I made based coff of this

[moonstrider9904]

feuilles d'automne

Steb x fem!Reader (Enforcer)

Summary: Amid your assignment to guard a fancy old folks' home in Piltover, you find yourself speechless when you stumble upon a pair of ocean eyes.

Word count: 3.9k

Tags/warnings: Mature and SFW, flirting, kissing, mild suggestivenes if you squint. Enforcer!Reader. Fluff in general, pre-relationship, first meetings, awkward situations, and I accidently created a side original character who I adore. Enjoy!

Sequel: après la bataille | My Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Thank you to everyone who's read, reblogged, and commented on après la bataille. I did not expect it to be met with so much love and support. Our precious fishman husband would be happy to know such a lovely bunch of people are his fans. You have all made writing these stories all the more fun and enjoyable 💙

The scene before you looked like it could have been taken from an Ionian painting. Rays of golden sunlight peered through the spaces between orange, red, and yellow leaves of many trees around the courtyard of the Verona old folks’ home, a peaceful place that lay in the northern outskirts of Piltover, far away from Zaun and the heart of the city where the shops and the smog could cloud the horizon.

Your assignment was simple: make sure the elderly folks who lived their days out in that home didn’t get into trouble. You couldn’t think of anything less challenging to an enforcer hungry to serve, not that you’d complain. It was work, and it was quite the lovely setting. Standing on the porch of the main building, a large mansion built in white stone with a dark blue stone tile roof, its architectural style being some fusion of classic Piltovan and mild Ionian influences in the details and finishings, you breathed in the clean, fresh air. Your eyes would continue to scan the celestial beams of light bleeding through the trees and eventually finding rest either in the grass, cobblestone paths, or even the small glistening pond at the very center of the courtyard.

On the bridge that went over the pond was an old couple who, according to what you’d heard so far, had known each other since they were children—how beautiful to spend a lifetime next to someone, and to face one’s own twilight in a place as peaceful and beautiful as that, holding the hand of the person who’d been through it all with you. It was a bittersweet thought, but such a place evoked those emotions in you, and suddenly, you felt lonely, longing and yearning for a companion. Regardless, you remained the only enforcer manning your post, forcing yourself to tear your attention away from romanticizing the peace of the scenery you beheld to keep watch of the elderly in your charge, only to be met by—surprise—no signs of trouble.

And then you heard the whistle. You weren’t particularly fond of the high-pitched sound of your own whistle, a part of your gear as an enforcer to use as a first means to dissipate any trouble you encountered, or simply to call attention to anything of note. You weren’t exactly happy by the fact that the whistle you heard at that peaceful moment, now broken, hadn’t been your own. Your knowledge up until that moment had been that you were the only enforcer on duty at the courtyard, and you sooner would have contemplated the possibility of one particularly mischievous elderly woman sneaking it away from you and blowing it to cause her equivalent of a riot in an old folks’ home, than to face the possibility of a counterpart entering the scene to aid in your assignment. When the whistle faded from your ears, you looked over your shoulder.

Only half looking forward to the encounter and with little hopes of it being transcendent, when your eyes caught even a glimpse of the whistle’s perpetrator, you lost the ability to move. Any notion of how to blink or breathe seemed to leave you, and if you were turning your neck to allow your gaze to follow his figure, you were sure it was his doing, drawing your eyes to him like a magnet, rather than your own will. You had just started to feel the air and the sunlight sting at your unblinking eyes, and then you saw that his own were now looking at you. The golden leaves and grass of autumn faded for a moment into an endless oceanic hue that could make you feel immersed in the deepest seas far off the other side of Runeterra. And for the amount of detail you picked up on during that single glance, you could have sworn you’d been staring for ages already—the way his blue-green skin contrasted with the rich blue of his uniform and even more so with the golden landscape, the way his resting face appeared so unamused that it made you fear yourself unworthy of speaking to him, the subtle lines near his jawline that you found out to be gills, and possibly the most stunning of all, the delicate frills crowning his eyes that could nearly be mistaken for the rest of the markings decorating his skin.

And for all the distance in this Vastayan enforcer, his eyes seemed to become more round as he too looked at you, with his gaze visibly softening for a moment while the frills around his eyes moved in a delicate wave before coming to a halt. Your mind replayed that scene for you countless times, and for the way you felt your chest swelling, you figured it was a miracle you weren’t yet flat on the ground.

“Hark,” you squawked, failing miserably in your first attempt to greet him.

He raised a brow and didn’t do much more for gestures, making you wish you could blend into the nearest tree trunk and stay there.

“It is time for them to return inside, is it not?” He finally spoke in a thick, elegant accent, and the rich sound of his voice dissipated your embarrassment. His voice was baritone, deep and far smoother than you could have expected—for a moment you couldn’t believe it could really be coming from him. His striking physique alone was already too much to contend with.

“Y-Yeah,” you brought yourself back to stability, fidgeting among the pouches of your belt to pull out your pocket watch and glanced at the time. 4:01 exactly—yes, it was time for them to go inside, and the telltale hand of the pocket watch tilted slightly off the 12 mark let you know you had been in awe of this man for a solid minute, and you were already done for. The pocket watch may as well have been laughing at you. But you closed it up and put it back into your pouch, exhaling with as much confidence as you could muster. “Yes, 4:00 is the cutoff, and they’re expected to be coming back in to prepare for dinner.”

“Then why aren’t they coming?” He asked, glancing out at the old folks who continued to enjoy their time in the chilly fresh air and sunlight.

“Oh, I usually opt for a different signal,” you answered, taking a step forward and inhaled all the way to your belly. “TIME’S UP, COME IN FOR DINNER!”

Your six words caught the attention of all the elderly scattered in the courtyard and, slowly but surely, they all began making their way towards the porch where you stood, chatting pleasantly amongst themselves and their aides. It was hard for you not to giggle when you looked over at your new acquaintance and saw his round eyes gazing at you, his frills standing upright at the shock of such a loud voice emerging from you.

“I’ve been doing this for a week,” you flaunted.

“I can…” he trailed off for a moment as he flinched his gaze over to the courtyard again. “Tell… though even with your lungs, you missed one.”

You looked in the direction he was gazing, and you weren’t surprised when you saw the youngest soul in the entire old folks’ home getting ready to rebel against your command. The dowager Mrs. Evelyn McCawley, or Granny Evelyn as you’d come to call her, was a short little old woman who made one think of hugs and freshly baked cookies. That day, she was wearing a bright red sweater and her hair was packed into a neat low bun, and she was looking over at you and your new companion from the other side of the pond as though wanting to get your attention. You knew her well already, but you once again wanted to giggle at how your new partner must have been puzzled by her, unaware of the sheer amount of stunts you’d already witnessed from that woman.

“You won’t take me!” Granny Evelyn shouted and turned her back on you, charging as fast as she could (and that wasn’t very a fast walk, mind you) for a tree nearby.

“Is she well?” He asked you.

You chuckled. “Yeah, she does this. The high point of Granny Evelyn’s day is the courtyard, and that’s saying something, as you can probably tell from her charming demeanor. You’ll never meet anyone who has more fun with life than her.”

There was no need to watch over the rest of the elderly walking onto the porch, as any of them who needed help were already being guided by their nurses. You and your companion kept your gaze fixed on a whooping and giggling Granny Evelyn as she took quick, small little steps toward the tree until reaching the trunk, clutching her hands onto it, and lowering herself to the ground where she lay face down on the grass, her little frame illuminated by the rays of sun that escaped through the leaves.

“Can she get up from there on her own?” Your new companion asked, his eyes widening in concern.

“Nope,” you chuckled, unbothered. “Someone better check on her.”

“I’ve got this,” he said, starting his way in Granny Evelyn’s direction.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” you replied as you picked up on the concern in his deep, luscious voice. “She just needs help getting off the ground.”

You walked after him through the dreamy courtyard and crossed the bridge over the pond—in other circumstances, your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d make more of a play to spend some time with him in that romantic bridge, maybe finally ask him what his name was, but flirting while Granny Evelyn lay on the grass would raise more than a few red lights in upper command. Eventually, you both reached Granny Evelyn, splattered face down on the grass in a star-like position, and her back suddenly fluttered with a giggle.

“You’ve done this four times this week,” you said to her.

“And every time, I succeed in staying out here longer!” Granny Evelyn teased, her voice muffled in the grass.

“Well, unlucky for you, now I have help,” you tilted your head, and your companion took your words as his cue to get down on his knees to aid Granny Evelyn.

“Ma’am, I’m going to help you up now, if that’s alright,” he said politely, and authority swam in his voice. Granny Evelyn picked up on the unique timbre and rich qualities that floated to her ears, and yours as well, and she jerked her head to the side in his direction to get a glimpse of him.

“Oh?” Granny Evelyn giggled. “Oh, my! Yes, of course you can help me, mister… could you be so kind as to let an old lady know your name?”

He directed a smile at Granny Evelyn, one so discreet and smooth you had to tighten your whole body to keep from sighing dreamily at the sight, or whimpering at how ridiculously gorgeous he was. It was then that you were also able to notice his ears tilted slowly downward, though this was mostly concealed by his uniform hat, and when he gave a slow blink, you picked up on the third eyelid subtly appearing in the movement.

“You may call me Steb,” he said.

“Oh, please help me up, Mr. Steb,” Granny Evelyn’s eyes sparkled at him, and as Steb helped her back up to standing, her gaze shifted between you and him. “Look at you both, so young and bright and loyal to your city.” As she continued glancing at you both, you were able to look away from Steb for long enough to notice the childlike mischief that flashed through her eyes before she fixed her gaze on him again.

“Oh, you are indeed a looker, stunning in your own right!” Granny Evelyn then called you by your name. “Isn’t Steb handsome, dearie?”

You pulled to a halt, and your wide eyes inevitably drifted over to Steb, feeling heat rushing to your cheeks with no signs of stopping or hope of discretion. His ocean blue eyes met yours, and he was also visibly caught off guard by the question, and just as Steb was opening his mouth to speak, possibly to have swiftly dismissed the whole matter and returned things to normal, you just had to open yours.

“Yeah,” the syllable left you quickly, nearly in a whimper, and immediately you felt incapable of meeting his gaze, wishing a chasm would suddenly open in the ground beneath you so that you could use it to be transported far away from there.

“I think so too!” Granny Evelyn’s chirpy cheer diffused some of the tension, and she then turned to Steb. “She’s quite lovely too, is she not?”

Though you were trying not to look at him, you noticed Steb’s calm exterior faltered for a fraction of a second before regaining his composure, and his beautiful eyes were no longer on you.

“I guess,” he answered.

Instantly, you turned your head back in his direction, and against your will, your gaze narrowed at his claim.

“You guess?” Heat rushed to your cheeks again while your brows knit together.

“Woops!” Granny Evelyn said. “Dinner time, folks! I need to be inside!”

With a sigh, you forced your frustrations away and linked your arm in Granny Evelyn’s, leading her across the courtyard and back to the porch while Steb lingered behind the two of you, carefully following your pace in silence. At the top of the porch’s stairs, a nurse waited for Evelyn, and you handed her off with a polite smile, watching as the cheeky granny disappeared into the building. In a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the embarrassment, knowing Steb was still nearby, you pondered on how much of a menace Granny Evelyn must have been as a kid if her old age kept up that amount of spunk.

Now that the elderly were inside preparing for the rest of their evening, you were off duty. You ran out of thoughts and excuses to keep your back turned on him, and as if to emphasize that, you soon heard Steb pacing up the stairs, stopping just a couple of steps below you. You turned around and looked at him, no longer enraged like before, but with your guard up and nowhere near the same amount of dewey-eyed desire you had when you first lay your gaze on him. Steb’s eyes held concern in them, and you knew he was aware of how he made you feel. He then removed his hat, and much to your dismay, he was far more attractive without it.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Would you forgive me?”

You crossed your arms and frowned, angling your body away from him. “I guess,” you spat, quoting him.

A sigh left him, though his lips seemed to curve in the hint of a smile. “I really am sorry. I know you’d rather have heard another response, and… I would rather have said something else.”

Some part of you wanted to admit you’d hoped he’d also, in some way, audibly confirmed he found you attractive. Mundane as it seemed, you felt something like that could make your day. You angled yourself toward him again, your gaze softening as you looked at him—confound how beautiful he looked even when he apologized. Holding his hat at his side, Steb’s gaze softened too, and his round eyes held a tender gleam that somehow made him seem like he was pouting. You thought of how different this look on his face was from the one with which he first walked on the porch, blowing the whistle. At the same time, you noticed his ears slowly tilting up, expecting your answer. But an instinct within you overruled whatever it was you wanted to confess to him, and intrusive thoughts of how everything could become complicated and how embarrassed you felt came pouring in, and you quickly turned around.

“My shift is over,” was the last thing you said, and you ran away from the porch.

You didn’t even want to think of the disappointment Steb felt watching you run away, and you wouldn’t let yourself ponder on how you’d blown it with him in a second. The week that followed that incident wasn’t any easier for you. Steb made attempts to talk to you and make things right, but you wouldn’t budge, and you kept your distance. Naturally quiet as he was, it seemed he wasn’t making much of your situation anymore, and nearly one week after the unfortunate event, you were convinced nothing more of note would happen in regard to the two of you.

One day, you found yourself carrying out your courtyard duty standing alone on the bridge over the pond. Things were as lovely and peaceful in the courtyard as they always were, and you were finally able to focus on the chilly autumn air that you loved so much, as opposed to recent events. Your shift was almost over, and you were looking forward to it being calm and uneventful, but when you heard steps coming onto the bridge—steps that were far too quick and well-placed to belong to an elder—you began to suspect something else was in store.

“Will you really not talk to me again?”

When Steb’s deep, smooth voice filled your senses, you could no longer deny how much you missed him. You turned around and faced him as he cautiously walked up to you at the top of the bridge, stopping a couple paces away from you.

“It’s not like you need much talking anyway,” you replied. “I’ve seen how quiet you are. Besides, you have your whistle.”

He gave a shy chuckle, and you noticed him exhale some tension away.

“It’s a start,” he said, mostly to himself. When you didn’t utter a response, he inched closer to you and tilted his head down slightly to one side, his bright eyes catching yours. “Hey…”

The softness of his voice paired with the beauty of his eyes were a lot for you to handle, and suddenly you didn’t trust yourself to resist him anymore. Your gaze softened at him, looking up at him with a tender gleam of hope not unlike what you felt when you first met him.

“Can I start over?” Steb asked you.

The chilly air began to blow stronger, ruffling the trees around the courtyard. You replied in a soft chuckle and playfully rolled your eyes, gazing out at the courtyard filled with elderly folks enjoying the day.

“We’re supposed to be on duty,” you said.

“Yes, but I’ve seen enough of this place to know the only person we should worry about getting in trouble is sitting up on the porch having a cup of tea,” he said as his eyes looked over at Granny Evelyn, who sat on a rocking chair smiling far away from you both. “I think it’ll be fine.”

With a soft laugh, you tore your gaze from the courtyard and looked at Steb, raised a brow at him, and shook your head smiling.

“I can’t believe you,” your eyes sparkled at him. “Fine, you may start over.”

Steb smiled at you, looking more handsome than you ever thought possible, and slowly he moved closer to you, meeting your gaze with flirtatious eyes.

“Hi,” was all he needed to say for you to know you were done for.

You laughed, bewildered at the power this Vastaya held over you, and at the fact that you had tried to push him away when it was clear that what was happening at that moment was all you’d wanted.

“Hi,” you giggled in return, feeling your cheeks getting hot.

A strong gust of wind powered through your silhouettes, blowing your uniform hat right off your head for it to land on the wooden floor of the bridge. You and Steb both let out small exclamations of surprise, and he bent over to grab your hat for you. When he stood up straight and held it out for you to take, you noticed that the gust of wind had blown a single, dry, golden leaf onto Steb’s shoulder. You looked up at him, loving how he still stood out incredibly in that autumn landscape, and you both smiled softly at each other. Before you took your hat, you reached your hand up to Steb’s shoulder and you gently took the leaf that had landed on him, casting it aside as delicately as it had fallen. But after the leaf was gone, your hand lingered on his shoulder, and tension built between you as you both remained there. Your smile had faded into the nerves that came with being so close to him in such a lovely setting, but it returned to your lips when Steb smiled back at you and his gaze softened in adoration.

You stopped thinking and let your hands guide you through the moment. You pressed your palm onto his shoulder and let it travel to the crook of his neck, and you pulled Steb down closer to you, perking on your toes, and you shyly kissed his lips. You basked in how smooth his skin was under your fingertips and how warm he was, and before you exploded into nerves, you heard your hat dropping onto the bridge floor, feeling both of Steb’s hands cupping your face, gently yet firmly, as he kissed you back. The shyness fled from you, and you kissed Steb more securely when you felt him reciprocate, sliding your arms around his shoulders and pressing your body to him—you didn’t give a Yordle’s mitten if anyone was watching or muttering about you, or if you were on duty. All that mattered was that, as you kissed him, you felt Steb smiling into your lips and his hands traveling down around your waist.

Your mind exploded in fireworks the longer you two kissed, and your thoughts jumped from possibility to possibility; all the firsts you could have with him, all the places you could hold his hand and all the ways you could explore his body and all the markings on his skin, but you knew that would come later, and at the moment you could delight fully in the feeling of him kissing you. Yes, you were absolutely smitten, and you were looking forward to much, much more of that.

From the porch, you and Steb were being watched with a warm smile. Evelyn McCawley had seen a lot in her lifetime, and each experience had taught her to view life with the wonder a child would have. Her eyes could no longer spot a butterfly from afar, but she could see you and Steb finally getting along all too well, and a smile lit her features in hope and subtle heartbreak. Seeing the two of you in uniform sharing a loving moment reminded her of when she was a young nurse charmed by a handsome soldier—she saw her and her beloved in the two of you. And with that same smile, Granny Evelyn pulled a wrinkled picture from the pocket of her purple knit sweater, gazing at the eyes that looked upon her from beyond.

“Young love, eh, Rafe?” She chuckled. “I hope those two have what you and I had, and I sure hope they have the chance to see each other through to the end. I do miss you, dearie.”

Granny Evelyn then put the picture back in the pocket over her heart, and she stood up from her chair, setting her tea on the little table beside it, pondering on what mischief she could possibly do now to bring you and Steb ever closer.

If you like this, please reblog too! Thank you for reading!

Read part II here >

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Love Story in "The Tale of The Monkey King and The Fox Princess"

(WARNING: This Story is going to be base of the Netflix the monkey king, if you don't like that, please leave my blog alone and never complain to me and it's going to be an NFSW Rp If your a minor, please for the love of god Don't reply, Viewer discretion is advised)

A Long time Ago On earth they were Ruled by Order, The Immortal Ones Rules Heaven and Kings Rule in hell But the Celestial Goddess Name Uni Rule them All With peace and harmony with her good Old friend "Buddha".. Then Years After Uni Gave her Life to the Beautiful Baby Girl Name Saphira Lorraina Fox, The Princess Of Sakutopia.. She is Blessed By Shenron The Dragon god by giving her Half of his Powers and Inari The Kitsune Goddess Blessed Her with Beauty and Immortality as well.. The gods and The immortal Ones in the Jade Palace was amazed That Saphira Became the New Celestial Goddess and Buddha Knew That Saphira has Her Destiney awaits.. Years later, That Night When Her family set out a good camp in the jungle. Saphira Was a Small child and she began to climb up into a big cliff..and then she sees the Big stone that was Big and rounded Began to crack..as She made a soft gasp..Then the stone Opens it up, she looked down and saw a cute little Red Monkey Aka "Monkey King" Curled up and sucking thumbs.. until he Opens his Green eyes and saw her, He leaped up excited as She giggles and said, " Awww Hi there, My Name Is Saphira Fox, Whats yours?" Then the Little monkey King notice her and smiles as he began to hugs her..and then He looked at the sky as he narrow his eyes and then He Shoot lazer beam as she gasp and being surprised, The Little Monkey King rubbed his eyes and his eyes is still glowing red and he kept shooting beams and pretty excited on it..and Then..he jumped off and running fast as saphira gasp and said," Man, He's pretty excited and all. I hope he's ok.." She felt worried about him..the jade emperor doesn't like it and wanted to get rid of him..But Buddha told him to be Patience and telling him that this monkey Is a powerful being and said to let him find his way, So the Jade emperor decided to leave that Little red Monkey alone. The next Morning, Saphira Saw Little Monkey King again and She knee down and she said," Hey Little Buddy, Remember me?"

When this little monkey King saw her and got happy and excited, Then he came and hugs her. She smiles and Hugs back gently and stroking his Fur and said," Aww your so soft and fluffy, I hope one day I'll see you every day and play with you Being great friends." Her Words Made The little red Monkey Feeling Happy to hear that..Then Saphira change into a little Blue Fox and Plays With him and wagging her tails and then She Began to Make a Beautiful Dragon Necklace For him, She put a necklace on Him as she smiles..But then He met the other monkeys and elder ones as well But they're not so keen about him..But then When they got to the light side but then she sees the Demon Tiger with Golden Bracelet Launch out from the water fall as she gasp.. The Demon tiger attacks as They runs off to the jungle area, She began to run with them..and head to the camp and suddenly.. The demon tiger ready to attack Saphira But Then The Guards Scare it off..and it fled as Saphira was Worried about the little monkey king, Tears sheds and thought he was gone for good.. When her Father Took Her home, Saphira Missed the little Monkey king Very much, At Least He Wore the necklace that she made For him. As the years Passed by, Saphira Grows up to become a beautiful woman and So beautiful That many men would throw themselves beneath her feet But Saphira rejected The other suitors Because She only See their Hearts Filled With greed and Minds Filled with Power obsession as well.. Then Her Father Brought in the Oracle, So that She Will Tell her Father Who's the Future Husband will be and as the Oracle use her powers to See the future Through the Crystal ball as it Shows that the Future Husband Is none other than…. The Monkey King himself, Her Father was Surprised but then The oracle Said that Saphira will be In danger as well, She will be Cursed by the Dragon King of the East Sea Himself.. And Then Her father asked if there's any Spell Breaker to remove such a fearful Curse..Then The Oracle said that Only True loves kiss can Break this Terrible Curse.. So Her father Nodded and Send Saphira Out to Find The Monkey King. Saphira Called her Noble Kirin Steed Name "Yuki" Meaning Snow in Japanese, As Saphira rides Yuki For a great Journey to Seek out the monkey king. Yuki's Hooves made the ground shaken in each steps as She made it to the Jungle part where she met the Little Monkey king…She thought he was Killed by the demon Tiger But then the Demon Tiger was Sent flying to the heavens as She was shocked, Knowing That He's still alive.. He Has the great Staff from the Dragon Kingdom of the East Sea, Then She heard from the elder monkeys that he needs to Defeated 100 demons to Join the Immortal ones.. And the Monkey King Said "One Hundred demons Coming up!" As the Monkeys cheers..as she notice the Dragon necklace that He wore was there, She recognized him now and there he was Very handsome and Compassionate, wanted to be loved by all.. Then One by One, Saphira Had Witness Him Defeating 99 Demons of them, Until he goes to the Very Poor Rice Village all Nothing but Drought in the summer, Then She sees Him Fought The Child eating demon name "Red Girl". Her Heart was Stolen by His Charms and His bravery. When she sees his heart and mind, all she can see was heart of Gold and a Cute right mind and Now She knew he's the one But she was worried if he doesn't remembers her though, That Night the village, She watched him dancing when the kids sings his theme song.. She giggles while hidden her face with a fox mask,

She finds him cute when he dance to his song. Until The Lightning came as she turns and saw The Dragon king of the east sea emerge from his bathtub as she wasn't amused by his arrogance, He accuse The Monkey king that He stole the "Stick" but Saphira was angered when The dragon king that he will face his wrath.. Then She change into an Elderly woman and she said," You Shall not accuse him with such nonsense in your cold tongue Dragon king!" The Dragon King turns and sees the elderly woman and asked how will She knew that he didn't steal The Powerful Staff..and then Saphira in old woman form said," This Staff is "Ruyi Jingu Bang" It Has been waiting for that monkey King for Five thousand Years, Have you No Shame at all! You and the Immortal Ones are nothing but Ignorant People! What Would the Princess Of Sakutopia would think of this if she sees you Dear to Speaks to Such Rubbish like that!?" The Village was shocked and all Seeing the elderly woman and little did they know it's the princess of sakutopia in disguised.. But then the Dragon king Notice the Dragon Necklace that Saphira made..and The Dragon king Said," Where Did you get that Necklace from?" Then The Monkey King answers..

[4barbatos]

✦ our divine tiny tyrant

dad!venti x mom!reader

a/n: more dad venti crumbs for u all <33 as per request hehe :DD i love writing him sm i hope u enjoy this lil piece too !!

you had been through a lot in the past forty-eight hours.

labor. the epidural. the weird nurse who wouldn’t stop flirting with your husband. crying. pushing. venti crying more than you did. venti fainting. venti waking up and crying again.

and now you were here.

lying in a stiff hospital bed, half-drunk on ice chips, chest sore and leaking milk, while your newborn son floated two inches above the bassinet like a tiny deity and your husband took a picture of it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“he’s literally levitating,” you muttered.

venti didn’t even look away from his phone. his voice cracked, soft and full of wonder. “he’s so majestic 🥺”

you didn’t blink. “his eyes are glowing, venti.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“i spent nine months growing him. my back is destroyed. my tits are swollen. and he looks exactly like you. he didn’t even try to look like me.”

venti zoomed in on his sparkly baby clone. “you mean our perfect wind-blessed child who smiled when i called him ‘dada king’?”

your face went blank. “…you what?”

but you were too tired to argue. too worn out to fight. your limbs felt like jelly, your brain like scrambled eggs. your hair was a rat’s nest. your hospital gown was damp with breastmilk. your eyelids were heavy with sleep you hadn’t had in days.

your baby boy was propped against a pillow like a loaf of bread, drooling on himself, hands twitching like he was about to hex someone in old latin.

and then he opened his mouth.

“da… da… da-da…”

venti gasped so loud you nearly dropped the cup of water you were holding.

“he said dada.”

you turned your head slowly, staring at him like you were witnessing a hallucination.

“venti. he’s babbling.”

but the baby did it again. “da-da-da-da.”

venti clutched his chest like he’d just been shot. “my son. my little sky-born prince.”

you blinked.

“he also said ‘bleh’ and ‘ahhh’ this morning,” you deadpanned. “do we have a duke of ahbleh now.”

but venti wasn’t listening. he had already dropped to his knees in front of the bassinet like he was kneeling before the second coming of barbatos. his eyes were wet. his heart full. his ego inflated beyond repair.

“my windswept heir… you have chosen. you have spoken.”

you didn’t even look up from your phone. “if you call yourself king again i’m filing for divorce.”

he turned toward you slowly, lip trembling, tears threatening to fall again. “just one coronation—”

“no crowns. no scepter. no anemo family crest.”

“but—”

“he doesn’t even know what toes are yet.”

venti inhaled shakily, clutching his heart. “he knows me,” he whispered. “he knows his king.”

“get off the floor.”

“yes, my queen,” he sniffled.

“never call me that again.”

“…yes, my duchess.”

“venti.”

“ok i’m done i’m done—”

by week four, you’d stopped trying to wear real clothes.

venti didn’t seem to mind. in fact, the less clothes you wore, the more clingy he got. which was saying something, because he was already stuck to you like a barnacle on a titanic-sized tit.

you stood in the kitchen in your old pajama shorts and a half-buttoned nursing top, hair tied up in a limp bun, pumping milk into a bottle while mentally counting the hours since your last full rem cycle.

venti slinked in behind you like a cat, arms wrapping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“look at them,” he whispered reverently, staring at your cleavage like it was the seventh wonder of the world. “divine. heavenly. celestial.”

you side-eyed him. “do you want to help or are you just gonna narrate like a pervert.”

“i can help.”

you expected him to maybe hold the bottle. maybe grab you a snack.

instead, venti dropped to his knees like he was being knighted by your boobs, and started sucking on your left nipple like it owed him rent money, while you continued pumping the right one into the bottle like this was somehow normal.

you didn’t even flinch.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to process how fucked this is,” you muttered.

he pulled back with a soft pop and a milk moustache, eyes glassy with devotion. “i would die for you. and these.”

you shoved the bottle into his hand. “go feed your son.”

venti gasped. “our prince shall be nourished by the divine nectar of the queen herself—”

“i’m going to hit you with the breast pump.”

“as you wish, my liege.”

you were too tired to argue. too emotionally wrung out to fight the fact that your child could already manipulate wind, your husband was calling himself ‘dada king,’ and you were pretty sure your left boob had been spiritually anointed by a bard.

you sighed.

at least he was helping.

kind of.

[violetjedisylveon]

Cracked Family AU - Family Tree, Wukong's Side

This is the family from Wukong's side, I'll do Macaque's side later, he has a lot more sworn sibling relations.

Wukong has a lot of moms. I guess he was just that adoptable ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

He is not genetically related to Nuwa. She accidentally created his stone egg while repairing the pillar when it broke the first time, that's why they have different colored relationship than the typical parent-child one.

Chūn is the reincarnation of Yin Wuming, also known as Lady Yin, Nezha's mother. Lady Yin did not ascend back to the celestial realm with her then ex husband and sons, choosing to stay in the cycle of reincarnation instead. She got reborn as a demon monkey on Flower Fruit Mountain about a century before the stone egg on top of the mountain hatched.

I have a much more detailed post on her here, with a picture! (Featuring lesbian monkeys)

Cracked Family AU Masterpost

I'm rambling under the cut, check it out if you want

I went into Erlang's family because I needed Chenxiang on the board, and oh my gods, is Erlang's family a tragedy.

First his dad and older brother get killed by his uncle, who then sealed his mother under a mountain, all because his mom fell in love with a mortal. Then! His sister falls in love with a mortal and his uncle orders him to seal his own sister under a mountain and kill her husband and take her from her son. Talk about generational trauma and cyclical abuse.

I hc he's secretly scared that if he has kids, the brother will be ordered to seal his sister under a mountain for falling in love with a mortal, it happened twice before he's not risking it again. He is happy being a dog dad. And a decent uncle to his monkey brother's kid.

Wukong and Erlang become bros in Jttw, though I imagine him sealing his sister under a mountain caused some strain in their relationship, I feel like Wukong might take that personally. Maybe that's why he taught Erlang's nephew how to kick his ass really hard.

And adopted said nephew. Chenxiang was like 8 when shit went down, monkey brain said "cub has no parents, it's free real estate".

Nuwa is the Jade Emperor's sister in some myths, and I had fun(angsty) ideas with it so I'm using that, but because Nuwa is big snake, and Jade Emperor is presumably something similarly reptilian, they would probably only know that they share a mother, because that's how reptiles work, hit it and quit it. So they are at best half siblings.

Guanyin being the reincarnation of one of Jade Emperor and Xiwangmu's daughters is a fun idea I've seen from @quitealotofsodapop, and it's more funny to me cause she and her sister's reincarnation adopted the same chaotic monkey at different points in his life. So I'm rolling with it.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wukong gasped for breath, leaning over the staff that was now half buried into the dirt, the magic of his brother beginning to fade as his spell took hold, dragging his elder brother into a deep sleep. His stone heart ached as what he had just done hit him, punishing him for his crimes once more as he began to feel the deep wells of pain and despair overflow. Niu was gone! Nice was gone, just like Liu'er, jsut like Azure, Peng, and Yellow Tusk! Just like his master and his pilgrim brothers. His monkies too, as they've long fled the mountain in search of a safer home. Everything he lovesld, everyone he cared about, destroyed by his own hand. Glancing up through sweat drenched baings, his breath caught once more at the sight of the woman, her hair tied up in an elaborate pair of horn like pigtails upon the hill. Watching him.

PIF had watched the entire thing.

"S-sister..." Wukong gasped once more, horror filling his breast as the woman approached him, "I-I didn't want to- he didn't give me a choice!"

"Shut up."

The words froze him like the ice in her glare as she knocked him aside with her fan. Her voice was full of venom, pure hatred spilling form her lips.

"How dare you... how dare you, you filthy beast! How dare you try to beg for mercy when not five minutes ago you stole my beloved away from me!" PIF spat at him, eyes glittering with unshed tears, "First my brother, and now you have taken my husband. Is there nothing that your hands touch that you cannot destroy!?"

"No...n-no, please! Sister-" Wukong tried to beg, to explain himself. He hadn't had the choice, if he hadn't done this then Heaven would have-

"I said shut up, you beast!"

Wukong's voice died in his throat as those dreaded words left this sister in law's lips, reminding him all too well what he was. Beast. Monster. A Weapon. An Obsessive Demon playing the Hero! The voices if many rang through his head at that moment, and in his shock he could barely hear what his sister said next as she threw him aside once more.

"Forget calling me your sister, you filthy beast! I never wish to see your face again!"

Wukong trembled as he nodded, pausing to only glance back at his staff and the celebrating mortals below, unable to see the celestial princess behind him, before he walked past her. He didn't look back to see her collapse beside the staff, tears finally falling as she screamed in despair. He didn't let her see his own tears fall as he kept his own scream of despair in check.

She and Niu had been the last people be had left, he had no reason to stay anymore. She was right, Sun Wukong only ever destroyed everything he touched. He'd fulfill her wish, she would never see Sun Wukong again.

Years later a princess would be found lighting a pair of candles in prayer, regret buried deep within her breast for words that could not be taken back and a family she had lost, one to death, one to lost custody, one to imprisonment, and one by her own cruel words.

Hehehehe I love this so much >:3

Wukong abandoning his identity and crown due to believing he had only hurt his closest companions. Only to not realise that his disappearance hurts them even more.

Iron Fan is such a sad character. She lost her sworn brother (Macaque) in a terrible fight, custody of Red Son to Guanyin cus he was too powerful/explosive, her husband to imprisonment, and now her sworn brother-in-law is seemingly forever missing. She's not having a happy 500 years.

But I bet she's the most dilligent in tracking Wukong down once more after he's seen at New Years!

[newkatzkafe2023]

Idk if this have been answered but,,,, do You know Skylanders? What about the Wukongs meeting a PopFizz!Reader??

I'll be honest I never had to much of an interest in skylanders but PopFizz quickly became a favorite of mine😊

(Lmk Wukong) My god you are his dream girl, wild, crazy, and full of energy. Everyday was a fun mischief filled day causing trouble and running around filled with endurance and enjoy. Being married to you was filled with fun and things got even more intriguing when you introduced him to chemistry and Alchemy. However Wukong does show some concerns with you drinking your made potions, but you basically told him that it's basically you drinking soda and being on a sugar rush. You appreciate his concern for you though, as you always kiss his face.

(HIB Wukong) God he would lose centuries of his life when it came to you, especially with the children involved. You would chug your potions constantly and be on a constant move and it helps keep you on edge, and it is interesting when you teach the children some kid friendly Alchemy experiments. Wukong would sigh at your enthusiasm and never ending energy, but at least your super cute.

(NR Wukong) ohhh lord may you both never be left unsupervised together, because you both would do the most insane sh*t together. You both would drink booze and your fizzy potions and go do reckless but hilariously fun things together. You both would go wild at bars/nightclubs and drive recklessly at motorcycle race tracks, scaring the crap out of Li and Su. Over all you are Wukong's other half and he wouldn't change you for the world.

(MKR Wukong) He would look annoyed with your crazy antics and endlessly energy, but deep down he wouldn't change you for the world. Wukong always loved your enthusiasm especially when your joining him in battle, either drinking your potions or throwing them at enemies. You also seem to get a huge power up from your extra fizzy potions which make Wukong worry about you, but then again he would be even more worried if you weren't running around.

(Netflix Wukong) He adores you with everything he's got, your wildside had won his heart from the very beginning. You were always so enthusiastic about helping your husband with his plans, and even more so in battle. Wukong quickly sees how you put the mad in mad scientist whenever you do Alchemy, and enjoys watching the effects that different ones can do. Wukong always wonders what your gonna do next, but he's very excited.

(BMW Wukong) IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT! For the great sage equal to heaven, especially when he saw a energetic monkey gal with a knack for getting into mischief. Wukong loves to get into trouble with you and likes to watch you preform your Alchemy experiments, and making your fizzy potions. Wukong always adored you more then anything in the 3 realms, and may you always remained his beloved crazy monkey queen.

(Destined one) The Destined one would sigh alot, but smile at your antics and he loves you the way you are. It's actually a bit entertaining because your a little bit crazy especially when you lost your temper, when people mess with your husband. Your potions often boost your energy and powers and making some for the Destined one too, wanting to help him in battle against the celestials realm. Having you around The Destined one would never be bored ever again🥰

(Lotmk Wukong) Oh man, you would honestly stress him out, not just him but the pilgrims in general. I mean, Wukong wouldn't in a million years plan to change you, but it's just that you seem to have so much energy, especially drinking your potions. He would run after you constantly whenever you're in your suger rush phase, and he would always make sure you don't hurt yourself. At the end of the day, Wukong will always love you, despite barely being able to keep up with you.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🥤

[ducky-dawn47]

Could I have some Oubing headcanons plsplsplsplspls😭😭😭 Also what do celestials, demons and humans think of each other? I know there's racism in your Au but just how bad is it? Like you've mentioned that Mk couldn't go to a hospital because he was half demon or was it because Tang and Pigsy were a couple? Sorry I need to reread the earlier chapters 😓

Since there's 3 questions in here I'll reblog with each answer!

Oubing Headcanons!!

The East Sea Third Prince, Celestial Half of the Spirit Pearl, Guardian of the Lotus Temple, Ao Bing;

Race/Ancestry; Chinese Cold Water Dragon

Age; 2,621 years.

Birthday; May 22nd.

Self Expression; Cis Male, He/Him, Homosexual.

Self-Care; Is also a Reptile that doesn't shed, so like Mei, he has an extensive, bougie self-care routine to maintain his skin and scales. He also really enjoys Hair Care.

Hobbies; Weaving, Sparring, Practicing on his favorite instruments; The Piano and Harp, and he actually enjoys cleaning and cooking! It makes Nezha embarrassed to be taken care of, but Bing is a home-body to the core, and as he grew it developed into Home-Maker traits! He isn't opposed to travel and adventure of course, but he's long since had his adventures from when he was literally 3 years old to about 1500 years ago.

He just wants to live quietly at the moment.

Secrets; is JUST as prone to anger and rage as his husband. Just alot more quiet and elegant about it. Nezha actually picked up on alot of Bing's mannerisms in order to survive life in the Heavenly court.

Literally.

Powers; Cryokinesis, Hydrokinesis, Advanced Healing Magic, Draconian Strength and Speed, Dragon Form. Immunity to most poisons (he made himself immune while practicing apothecary)

Weaknesses; Nezha. His Father's anger. Extremely High temperatures, tightly Enclosed spaces.

Quotes; "Oh- Nezha dont...!" "*sighs*/pos" "Hahaha~!" "I'm happy to help!" "It would be an honor." "Zha Zha!"

Occupation; Guardian of the Lotus Temple- Nezha's & his House. While he spends alot of time on his hobbies, He also protects the temple -and what's hidden inside- with an unmatched level of seriousness and ferocity.

Ducky's Notes; This man is downright gorgeous. Utterly stunning. Completely beautiful. Everyone was super jealous Nezha managed to pull that. And he will forever wear a shit-eating grin about it when its brought up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Third Lotus Prince, Demonic Half of the Spirit Pearl, Protector of Children, Li Nezha.

Race/Ancestry; Celestial Lotus Creature (noone actually really knows?? So they kinda just gave him that when he was born. Not a Demon, But the demonic half of the Spirit Pearl, but also definitely not a Bàntiān since both his parents are Celestials- its complicated.)

Age; 2621 years

Birthday; May 22nd

Self Expression; Cis Demi-boy. My man ROCKS a dress and loves makeup. They/He/Him/Them, Homosexual.

Self-Care; Pretty much mimics Bing's routine. Just minus the scale-care. It's easier, the stuff is already there- he's not lazy its just what works- NO MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT IT!!

Hobbies; Sparring, Training the Traffic Trio, visiting schools and orphanages(he really likes making kids toys) carpentry, toy making, jewelry making, and he plays the Violin with Bing occasionally.

Secrets; Is terrified of still being seen as a demon, or worse- a child. He might still be the youngest member of the Heavenly Court. But he fights tooth and nail to be seen as someone worthy of respect. But despite this lingering inferiority complex, he does his best to not let it affect him when he's with Bing or his loved ones. Its hard, but he does remember that he doesn't have to compete with himself for their respect- he already has it.

He will never forgive himself for what happened to Liu'Er and the Monkey Demons.

He knew Mk was alive the entire time. And deliberately kept it to himself from Heaven- even from Bing.

Powers; Lotus Weilding, Pink Pyrokinesis, His Ribbons, Rainbow Spitting, his Wheels, His Lotus Spear, Super Strength and Super Sonic Speed, War Form.

Weaknesses; Bing. Mk, Wukong, Children. Extremely Low Temperatures, Lack of/Low Oxygen, Is glamoured to HIGH HELL. And constantly keeping track of the spell weighs on him when he's tired or injured.

Quotes; "Kids../pos" "KIDS...!/neg" "MEI DONT YOU DARE-" "BingBing!!" "Of course." "Thats Right.." "You're a good kid, Mk.." "You've come a long way, Hai'er."

Occupation; The God of Children - Answering prayers from kids and parents, able to detect a pregnancy, able to detect a child in severe distress, a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT of paperwork. Heaven's beurocracy is a pain in the ass.

Ducky's Notes; Also stupidly pretty and refuses to admit or fully acknowledge it. Will only wear a dress for Bing on private dates. And that is IF Bing bribes and begs enough. Has recently been more comfortable wearing makeup more often. Glamoured self looks like LMK Nezha, Unglamoured looks like 2025 Movie Adult Nezha.

[strangesthirdeye]

ɴᴏᴛ sᴏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴛᴀʀ (ɪɴᴇғғᴀʙʟᴇ ʜᴜʙʙʏs x ᴛᴏᴅᴅʟᴇʀ ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: When little star is no more little.

Warning: IT'S INEFFABLE HUBBYS! WE LOVE THEM MUAH 💋, fluff, love, Crowley being a crybaby, Little star go to kindergarten, reader age between 4 or 5 years, Azirapapa comfort his husband, lots of hugs, acceptance.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Icky! Icky! " You whined in your daddy's arms, struggling to get free as Crowley hugged you tightly.

"Papa help!" you called your papa as you made grabbing hands towards him.

Aziraphale shook his head several times while massaging the bridge of his nose. It seems that Crowley will act like this once you are old enough to go to school. Human kindergarten. Aziraphale is the one who insists you to go to school with humans even though you are half demon and angel, like he said;

"She needs to get along with humans so that she doesn't need to feel awkward around them or scared" he said one evening.

Crowley, on the other hand, he disagrees because for him humans will know what you are and they will feel threatened by you even though you are just a little girl, not to mention, humans now have a sense of curiosity that pushes them towards the unwanted and Crowley doesn't want that to happen to you so he insists on letting you just sit at Bookshop A. K. A home.

And this lead to some disagreement between the two celestial beings which resulted in Aziraphale winning the disagreement. Crowley just sulked at the corner bookstore which he will be ok again in a few seconds.

Now you have been registered to kindergarten (with a miracle because Aziraphale did not know how to register to kindergarten) and now you are in front of the kindergarten gate for the first day. Well, maybe you'll come in a few minutes late because you're stuck in your daddy's arms.

"Crowley, please let her go, She has to go to her class for the first day. She will be late if you don't let her go" Aziraphale scolded as he tried to take you to get out of Crowley's arms.

Crowley grumbled grumpily. "What do you know? Those little mortals in there will definitely mock her or try to hurt her if she accidentally uses a miracle. You don't know what those little mortals can do to her!"

"well those little mortals will be her friends and help her adapt here. You don't need to worry about her, Crowley. Miss Dhani always watches over the children here. If Y/n needs anything, Miss Dhani will help her. She's her class teacher. She has responsibility for the children here" Aziraphale reasoned.

"Ngeh- what if that woman scolds her? What if she doesn't care about my star if she needs anything?" Crowley sneered, hands still hugging you who struggled to break free.

"Miss Dhani is the best woman I've ever known. I can sense her aura that only leads to goodness so that's not a concern" Aziraphale replied as he finally managed to release you from his husband's arms.

"Now, my star. Are you ready for your first class?" Aziraphale smiled at you who was brushing yourself to remove the creases on your shirt. You beamed at him.

"Yes! I want to make many friends!" you beamed energetically.

Aziraphale chuckled while clapping his hands. Crowley grumbled grumpily but deep down he was also happy for his excited star.

*Ahh, friends! Of course you can make many friends. But remember, you need to find a friend who will stay with you no matter how hard or easy it is, because that friend will be with you for a long time." Aziraphale pointed out. "And stay out of trouble" Crowley narrowed his eyes at you.

You smiled innocently which Crowley could see past that innocent smile. He laughed out loud.

"Aye! She's a half angel, angel. She won't cause trouble here even though there's a little bit of demon in her. She's a sweet half angel and demon. Aside from she's a troublemaker" Crowley whispered the last part. He patted his husband's shoulder.

"But my sweet demon will leave her daddy alone in the bookshop, I can't survive that" Crowley complained dramatically as he kneeled at your level.

"You can survive that, Crowley. Kindergarten isn't that long, she'll be back in no time" Aziraphale replied, rolling his eyes at his husband's antics.

"Dada won't die! I'll be back!" you beamed at him, patted his head.

"Dada will be bored at the bookshop without my little star, those books will attack Dada" Crowley muttered. Aziraphale raised his eyebrow.

"It will attack you if you don't help me arrange those books" Aziraphale crossed his arms.

"See! Help me, star! Please be with daddy at the bookshop to save me from it" Crowley whined.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, tired enough to deal with his antics. He sighed.

"You always do something at the bookshop, Crowley. Everyday" Aziraphale mumbled.

"those things are boring without Y/n" Crowley grumbled.

"Including tempted one of the elderly to buy pornography who came to the bookshop? No" Aziraphale recalled, slightly cringing at that memory.

"That could be your own fault because you have that kind of books in those bookshelves" Crowley protested.

You cocked your head in confusion. "what's a pontography?"

Aziraphale sweat. "Ah, nothing, my dear. It's not important. The important thing now is that you need to get to class as soon as possible before you're late. Miss Dhani must be waiting."

You nodded excitedly. "Ok! I'm going then!" you hugged your Daddy and Papa tightly before running into the kindergarten.

Crowley groaned. "Argh.. here we go. Boredom has hit"

Aziraphale shook his head "We shouldn't have mentioned those kind of thing in front of her. She's a curious girl."

Crowley shrugged. "It's your fault because you started it first"

Aziraphale became nervous. "Well- Well, I just want to make a point that not everything you do involves Y/n" Aziraphale adjusted his bowtie. "I accidentally blurted it out"

"aye, point. Which you 'accidentally' mentioned 'that'" Crowley raised the fire.

"I was trying to make a point! Besides it crossed my mind" Aziraphale looked down shyly. His face turned red.

Crowley smirked cheekily. "Did I sense something, Angel?"

"Shut up, Crowley!" Aziraphale whined as he walked fast to Bentley.

Crowley laughed out loud at his husband.

Later, you come back with messy hair and a shirt full of watercolors.

[asherfox]

Ok so you posted about wanting lmk au ideas(didn’t check when it was posted) and I have one I’ve been thinking about for a while

Basically shadowpeach were a thing on the journey and one way or another Wukong ends up bearing a child or two during the journey(he’s a shapeshifter or trans masc, whichever you’re comfortable with)

And since names are sacred because they give a person power over you if you’re a FFM monkey in particular(magic thing for this au specifically, not canon to anything in Chinese mythology as far as I know) their names, Macaques name, and Sihou as Wukongs first name are never mentioned outside of safe spaces or times of extreme duress where the name is used to allow for more powerful spells/abilities to be used

However after the journey, one or two years after, there’s an order from heaven to have the queen(more prestigious title given to Wukong after the birth of the heirs) or king perform some task in the far west

Macaque left because Wukong was carrying their next kid(s) , to make sure they could raise their kingdom and new child together there’s a plan made to turn the royal family to stone statues and leave some people in charge for an interim

Of course the kingdom surprised the royal family by partaking in the spell as well as preserving literally everything about their civilization with so many spells that ward off people and rot it seemed to other demons and celestials that FFM just disappeared into the mist

The short decade the thing heaven ordered of Macaque ends up taking way longer than they thought it would and more stuff gets piled on, including the true fire of shamadi and sealing of the Bull Demon King

Eventually the kingdom and Wukong himself is woken by the arrival of MK and he ends up helping try to track down Macaque from wherever he vanished

BDK and his family stop trying to take over the world because they’re more worried about the whole “an entire kingdom just awoke in the new age and don’t know what anything is” and they are helping to get the people up to speed

The rambunctious heir(s) of FFM mostly join MK and Mei in exploring and learning about the world now that they’re awake and raring to find their baba again

Most major events stay the same with the caveat that instead of just being a warrior to LBD Macaque is now her host trying desperately to break free and return to life with his children and husband

The final defeat of LBD includes the calling of Macaques true name and the very sudden realization that Wukong has been in labor for 3 hours by the end of it and this cub isn’t waiting a second more

The next events are now more strained since MK would be Wukongs bio half brother(Nuwa took the eggshells from Wukongs birth atop FFM and stuffed it with clay to make the Harbinger of Chaos) and they have the whole “MK is a stone monkey” realization to take care of on top of having to take care of a newborn

The fight against the brotherhood is worsened by the fact that Azure tries using the cubs as leverage

There’s more in my mind but I’ll leave it up to you from here

........

Wait wait wait what wait oh my, wow, what. Huh. -

this, this is amazing!!! Wow, I am shocked this is a really good au idea what.

You can't just drop this master piece and leave, anon show yourself!

I like I can't just take this idea without like, I am speechless ever after hours of thinking about it.

You have to make an au about it this is so good I don't even know what to draw about it, like. Anon reveal yourself so I could get an answer on what frame to draw, because I don't want to take it lollll

(I will feel bad for taking such a big idea) TvT

I need answers

Like tell me what scene to drawwwww!!!!!

[manonim]

Zen is the current King of Fox Demons and a husband of Jie. He always looks at others with a bright smile on his face but beneath this smile he's hiding a lot of grief…

Full Name: Zen Huang

Alias(es): First Prince, The Queen’s husband, father, dad, The King…

Species: fox demon (six-tailed)

Gender: male

Affiliation(s): no info

Occupation(s): Successor of the throne(formerly), Jie’s husband, current King of Fox Kingdom

Weapon(s): no info

Place of birth: Red Fang Mountain- The Fox Kingdom

Age: 2000+

Home: The Fox Kingdom

Likes: spending time with his family, sweets…

Dislikes: Bitter food, celestials…

Family:

Jie- wife

Yī- first child

Èr- second child

Sān- youngest child

DFK- father

Friends/Allies:

no info

Enemies:

No info

Status: alive

Abilities:

No info

Personality:

(Will change)

Zen is a honest person with a rather cheerful and carefree personality, at leat that’s how he is to his family. He can sometimes be lazy but when taking care of important things he is really reliable. Despite being a kind person, Zen is someone who won’t forgive anyone who hurt his family, if it’s someone stronger than him he won’t blindly attack but will wait patiently for revenge… cause he will never forget the pain of his relatives.

History:

No info

Relationships with canon characters (opinions):

No info

Relationships with my ocs (opinions):

Jie:

Zen loves Jie very much. After Jie was punished by Jade Emperor Zen was always by her side trying to keep her spirits up. When Jie decided to leave the kingdom he accepted her decision hoping that this way she will regain her old self. He later tried to communicate with her by sending many letters but hadn’t got any answer for long time, yet he still believes that they will meet again.

Kids:

Zen loves his kids as much as he loves Jie. He tried to keep them together after Jie left but realised that they are grown enough to deal with the situation by themselves. He spends most time with his daughter Yī to prepare her for taking over the crown but also wants to stay close to her because she suffered the most from their family tragedy. Èr was always independent so they don’t talk much but continue communicating through letters(you’ll need to read about Èr to know what it’s about) while his youngest child- Sān, visits him from time to time to ask about Jie.

Trivia:

- Zen never wanted to take the position of the kingdom’s ruler

- In my au he was one of many kids of FDK but is an only son, his sisters left the kingdom mainly to get married, one of his sister is Princess Jade-Countenance (The true JTTW fans will know who she was)

- His favourite colour is red

- Zen is half blind, he can’t see out of his right eye, he uses the eyepatch to hide the burn scar on his face

[nightsunecilpse]

this is just a stupid theory abt earth and luna (and theia)’s relation to each other, there’s three main gods in Hindu mythology- the creator, preserver, and destroyer

I think earth could be the creator (because obviously, he created life). And it makes sense for Luna to be earths counterpart, destroyer, but i feel like he fits the preserver more. Like, his whole ‘job’ is to balance earths axis and protect ( preserve) earths creations from asteroids Idk if Theia could be seen as the destroyer, but… she is associated with destruction?

or maybe im js going insane over them idk

After some video binging and Wikipedia reading, I'd like to add and make adjustments to your theory. Out of all the things I'd hope Solarballs wouldn't make reference to, it would be Hindu mythology. Due to my unfamiliarity with the whole thing and the complexity of Hindu cosmetology. I'm going to go on a little rant, I'm already trying to warp my head around the concept of Yin and Yang. Also, I'm trying to brush off my understanding of the Book of Genesis because of the reference to "two became one". But thankfully, most religions follow a similar concept of creation and the following destruction. If we want to parallel the Hindu Trinity to Solarballs we need to apply the proper roles that suit the characters best.

Let's start with the Sun as Brahma who represents the creation. Apparently, after Brahma created everything, his role was diminished because there was no need to continue creating after everything had been placed. It was expected that everything would find its place eventually. Just like how the Sun stays in the center of the solar system and the rest of the celestial bodies, after accumulating from the Sun's dust, had found a place within it.

This is when preservation comes in. Vishnu represents the concept of preservation and his job was to protect creation and create balance. This is why I believe Jupiter would fit that role best, as he is the protector of the Rockies and he helps balance the solar system. To be frank, I think he's mostly motivated because of the Earthlings.

Now, the last one is the destroyer, or Shiva, which I think Earth fits a little too well in comparison. The god's role was to destroy creation but paved way for new creation. The Earth is in a constant state of change and is currently going through a mass extinction. Moreover, the things he said in his therapy session were interesting. Along the lines of saying he's willing to start over if humanity doesn't get better but admitting he still has hope. To showcase that Earth represents the destroyer then look no further than his own creation and the constant looming presence of crisis he's always in.

To include Theia in the Trinity she might fit Shakti, the counterpart of Shiva. The personification of femininity and the energy of creation. I believe Shiva had split himself in two to mold the universe and needed to make a more feminine aspect of it. Later, after the goddess was done, she was reborn as a mortal to rebuild karma. She eventually found Shiva again, and they became one as husband and wife. Unfortunately, she died, and Shiva got really mad. Then he went on a rampage and cut off someone's head but replaced it with a goat's after cooling down. Shiva would then remain without his other half as he sat in spiritual solitude. Fortunately, Shakti was reincarnated as Parvati, Mother Goddess, Goddess of Power, Nourishment, Devotion, Motherhood, Fertility, and Harmony, according to the wiki. I believe Luna would fit that description because he's the Moon. The Moon has mainly been associated with women. Plus that whole planet Colliding and being created from the ashes like a phoenix makes it seem like Luna is the rebirth of Theia (or Proto).

Anyway, I kinda went a little overboard there. I think it's cool you drew this parallel, and I love to see how wild a theory can be. If you have your own elaboration please share. Also love your Vercury fanart.♥️