blog for writing stuff and throwing them here

I want sleep. I write mainly Crocodile based stuff, but I love doing requests too! (no smut tho)

[mewnewew]

Heeey this is just me popping in to tell you that I'm free for requests! Just, don't give me smut yet. Still working on that. Anything but smut I can do! Also, my ao3 account is @Majimajimajima where I have reposted some stuff from here with edits. Check it out!

[mewnewew]

Something Grows beneath the Cracks

Oh I'm so not happy with this chapter ouuuugh

Picture from: Deadpool (2016) #1

Chapter: 1., 2., 3.

TW: Mention of death, past child abuse

He moved on routine action. He wasn't thinking. He was trying not to think. He was trying not to feel too much. Damn Xavier, way back then. Damn Birdy for dying so easily. Damn those X-fucks. Because of them he couldn't stop remembering. In fact, fuck that bitch Cassandra Nova. Oh she wanted to punish him, she said. So she does this? SHE DOES THIS? TO HIM? He snarls, pulling himself up on the fire escape, ignoring the feeling of paranoia, of anger and of genuine rage scratching at his back. Usually, he would just maybe ignore this by drowning himself in drink, or blood. He's too rattled though, he's pretty sure the Sun was up when she went into his brain. It's night now, he doesn't know what time but he guesses it's late night by the lesser number of cars and the increased number of lights.

Your curtains are open. You're sitting, scowling over your work papers, laptop sitting nearby, and there's music playing from your phone which is plugged in. The room lights are still on, and for a second he just stands there, staring at you before you turn your head and yelp in surprise at seeing him, flinching. Then you get up and open the window. 

"Jeez! You really need to-"

He says your name, vaguely realising he isn’t able to fully hear his own voice clearly, "Need a quiet place."

Something in his face is already telling you something, or maybe his face is still all angry, with him trying to reign his urge to go wild and fuck shit up. Either way, you stare at his face for a few seconds, before nodding, and moving back to allow him in. He's still staring at you, and you at him. You tilt your head before reaching out and holding his wrist, tentatively, waiting to see his reaction. Your touch is slow, and not pushing. He doesn't flinch. "Hey"

He doesn't answer, gaze still trained on yours, amber pupils looking, examining every feature on your face. 

"...Bad night?" You try, voice quiet. Your own eyes alternate between watching his movements, his gaze, any expressions you could look for on his face. 

He doesn't answer and you nod once to yourself, sighing. "Okay. Let's take a bath, alright? You're, well... covered in stuff."

He still doesn't respond, but lets you slowly tug him over to the bathroom, eyes watching the back of your head. You lead him over to your bathroom, opening the door, before pulling open the curtain, and now looking at him. Seeing the expression, he watches as you push the toilet lid down and nod at it to gesture to him to sit. He sits, and you raise your joined hands a bit. 

"Can I let go? I wanna grab your towel and clothes."

He loosens his hold and watches as you nod once and leave. He sits, mind tearing itself apart from what he saw and felt again, and the rage he feels at having gone through it again. How fucking dare she. He's going to kill that bitch. He looks down at his hands, seeing the claws come out. It's only a few seconds later that he sees you now, hearing you call out his name. "-ctor? Hey, can you hear me? Vic?"

He blinks and looks at you, face now bearing a mixture of concern and of alertness, for him. Seeing him react, your face softens, and you point to the folded bundle of clothes on the bathroom sink. "So here's your stuff. Feel free to change into that after you're done?"

He looks at the clothes. A shirt and pants, and his towel. When he started more or less living here, you got him his own towel. It smelled like your detergent, but if he took a deep breath, he could smell yours on it. He looks back at you, and you give him a half smile, trying for reassurance.

"I'll be outside okay? Take however long you like." Saying this, you give him an awkward pat on his shoulder, before turning then pausing, looking down.

His hand had reached out and was holding on to a corner of your top, holding the fabric. You look back at him. "...Want me to stay?"

He doesn't stop looking at your face, saying nothing all the while. You turn then, facing him, your eyes searching his, looking for any microexpressions on his face. Your hand goes to rest on his, and you give a reassuring squeeze. 

"Not going. It's all good. I'll stay."

He tugs you then, to stand between his spread legs, burying his face in your stomach. His eyes closed, one hand curled around your hip and the other still holding your top’s corner. You flail, before freezing, looking down at him. Slowly, he feels your hands rest, one on his shoulder and one in his hair. 

"Uh…, okay then”, he hears you mumble. “Definitely not weird” you finish before straightening and adding on. “That bad of a night, huh?" You ask, now sounding as if you're musing to yourself. 

His eyes flutter, arm tightening around your figure as your hand combs through his long locks. 

"Your hair is long this time too. Gonna let it stay that way for a bit? Or gonna cut it again?"

He doesn't answer, but he gets the feeling you were expecting it this time round. You hum to yourself, taking a small group of strands and holding them up. 

"Maybe you need a hair wash too."

-+-+-+

Minutes later, he's washing himself under the shower head, standing in the tub as he hears you play some game on your phone. It feels better now. He's more... himself. More clear-headed. He watches the suds go down the drain and hears the different sounds around him. He hears the music of the game you're playing. He hears the sounds of water flowing down the drain and of it splashing onto him. He can distantly hear the honk of cars outside and around your block. He can smell the soap you usually use, which he now uses. He can smell you, the smell of the pizza shop nearby which also sells cupcakes where you had dragged him to, back when things were... were, laughing as he finished two whole cupcakes in one bite. He saw the grooves on the walls, from the claw marks he left as he fucked you in the shower way back when. 

You had rolled your eyes into your skull then, letting out a series of sounds he couldn't fully remove from his memories of you, your face in want, screwed up as he hit that spot in you which made you see stars and release. He remembers you smiling at him in bed, later that night, hands holding him to you. So that most of all he could smell, could pick out the most clearly at that time was you, and him, molded together like two chemicals, reagents and reactants mixing together, creating something new as a product. He remembers waking up the next morning, laughing as you groaned from the soreness and punching his shoulder lightly as you gave him a dry look for his laughter. 

He shook his head then, and pulled apart the curtain, the movement making you look up from your screen. 

"Hey, are you good? Gonna wash that hair?"

"...."

"...Want me to do it, or not do it at all?"

"...You do it."

"Okay for me to play some music?"

"Yeah."

You perked up at that and started playing something from your favourites. Safe, routine. Like usual. He sits on the edge of the tub, facing you, head slightly bowed. He feels your hands in his hair, feels them squeeze, rub massage product into his hair with the shampoo that you use. His brain slows now, to the point where he feels sluggish as a whole. 

He doesn't think much. The earlier rage coupled with the scheming part of him was somehow able to go back to where he usually stores it. He finds it funny, he supposes. He had -after deciding that falling in love with you was bad because to him it was- left you. And here you were, washing his hair, like nothing ever changed, like nothing ever happened. 

Some part of him feels… guilty, like a kid getting yelled at by their ma for trying to get at the cookie jar. He looks at your bottoms, at the way you’re standing between his feet. He feels awful- he feels you pause then, and his eyes move up. Amber meeting your own, watching, assessing, waiting.

“Need you to turn to wash the shampoo off, big guy.”

He stays like that for a moment longer, before turning anyway, hands now clasped as he ducks his head and feels the water fall on his head, the shampoo suds, dirt and whatnot which was earlier in his hair slowly draining into the sink. He remains motionless the entire time till you tap his shoulder for his attention.

“Okay, so the towel is here, and some of your clothes. I gotta go take your stuff out of the machine and under the fan for drying. I’ll be back in a few. Is that cool with you?”

He nods and you drop the towel on his head, letting out a small snicker before opening the door and closing it behind you. He gets dressed slowly, feeling both shitty and slightly calmer at the same time. So he works it out.

You’re… hard to understand. 

He doesn’t like what is now between you after he left (but he had to, he didn’t want another situation of what happened with Leni)

His brain still feels like it was rolled under an 18 wheeler

He’s definitely getting that fucking bitch Cassandra

He opens the door and you've come back, looking off into the distance, a troubled look on your face, before looking at him. He raises an eyebrow, wordlessly asking.

You sigh, running your hands over your arms. “Nothing, I just have a big thing to present tomorrow. Anyway," you clap your hands, "You hungry?"

He moves to the kitchen table, sitting on one of the chairs, and you give him a half smile before opening your fridge, and taking out a box. You talk to him over your shoulder, back facing him "Friend gave me half of her fried rice. That good for you?" 

"..."

"Taking that as a yes"

Minutes later he's eating the rice with a spoon, as you stand next to him, typing something on your phone when it rings. At this position, where he’s more or less hunkered down while eating, you’re a few inches taller than him. He watches you take the call and raises an eyebrow when he hears the voice of that guy on the other end. You take notice of this and sigh, shrugging with your other arm as if to say, ‘Yes, it’s him. But what can you do, huh?’

Now for context, there’s this guy at your workplace who’s on the same level as you in your work hierarchy. He’s… pushy. You’re not sure if it’s in the way of ‘hey, I’m into you’ or ‘hey, I’m assertive and want some part of my work to be done/cross checked by you cause I am somewhat your junior by a year’. You usually put on a polite smile and do your best to ensure you’re out of his line of sight/chaos at work usually, but owing to the mixed culture of your work, work calls at home aren’t always alien. You push the edge of the counter against your thumb as you push the pad of your thumb back and forth against the surface, as you listen to this time’s ‘query’. Victor scowls, huffing as he shovels in another big spoonful of rice. Victor, on the other hand hates him, because the one time that Victor was invited to the office for some event, the guy had brought you an entire plate of food and had tried to stick to your side till Victor had announced his presence by placing one arm on your shoulder, giving him a lazy grin, a fang jutting out. Since then, he hadn’t had a favourable view of the guy.

Now though, you roll your eyes and do a mock karate chop over Victor’s head, clicking your tongue. He pauses before catching your eye, and you lean down, letting the voice on the phone prattle on before whispering, “Go to bed, I’ll join you in a bit”

Victor pauses, blinks, then nods, eyes now on his food. Your hand moves to lazily pat his shoulder before your gaze and your entire demeanour changes, “What, no, you’re not supposed to send it to him, you have to send it to Krasoń! She’s supposed to get the file and he needs the other one!” groaning, you hurriedly move to your laptop and Victor gets up, to dunk the bowl into the sink, mind still spinning with what you said. He glances over his shoulder at you, now scowling over some papers taken from your work bag.

His claws curl into the dense walls of the sink and he retracts them. You weren’t- this wasn’t- fuck. He physically pushes himself to head to your bedroom and lays down, one arm over his face. Sleep. For fuck’s sake, just sleep.

-+-+-+

He wakes up with a start, hair all over his face, claws out and into the comfortable fabric of your blanket, prominent holes in the stitching. He can still see it, he’s down there, the cold walls of the basement are all around him, he can still smell his dried blood on the floor where he’s chained, he’s gonna hear his father’s footsteps come down those steps any minute, with the pliers- 

“Woah, woah, Victor, hey, hey, look at me, can you hear me? Hey, Vic-” he blinks then, hearing the distant sound of not his father’s footsteps down creaking wooden stairs, but your voice as it gets louder. He turns his head, seeing you give him a once over, and he can feel your hands now, around his claws, touching, slowly rubbing the skin on the back of his hands.

“Hey big guy, you with me? You uh, here?”

He nods shakily. You study his face and he feels one of your other hands come up and push his hair off his face. “That’s good. Let’s go back to sleep, okay? C’mon.”

He obeys as you slowly tug him down, this time with him facing you. He looks down at your conjoined hands and then looks into your eyes as you hum, thinking as you stare back at him. “Sheesh, your hair is drenched with sweat. Want me to braid your hair? I’ll be gentle.”

A beat passes before he nods, amber eyes watching the sliver of light from your window outline the curves and lines of you, as you give him a half smile, shifting closer, before taking a few of the smaller strands, and starting to braid them together. He keeps staring, face impassive. You clear your throat and focus on another one, before murmuring, “Y’aint back there, Vic. He’s long dead.”

He closes his eyes, letting your words resonate in his head. “I know.”

A hum answers him. “Good.”

That’s that. He drifts off then, and wakes up halfway hours later, having hugged your torso to him, his head on your chest. He shifts slowly, feeling your hands slip off from his hair, feeling some weight in his hair, from the different braids in his hair. He looks at your face, and wants to claw his brain out for having the automatic switch to come here. Your apartment. Fuck, he needs to leave now.

He sits up then and gets out of bed, ignoring the voice in his head which is chastising him for being this way, because don’t he like what was, last night? That easy comfort? Doesn’t he like that shit? He's such a fucking asshole. An asshole who didn't even-

But you didn’t laugh. Naw, you didn’t pity him. You were just, there. You comforted him for fuck’s sake. He should just kill you, be done with you and then-

A mumble interrupts his movements, his head snapping to you as you mumble a soft sound in your sleep before curling further into yourself, moving to where he was sleeping, as if seeking his earlier warmth. He stares at you for a second, before tearing himself away.

-+-+-+-

You’re groaning loudly as you rush around the place, hating yourself for helping him last night (which you would have done anyway, don’t lie), and for waking up late, now you don’t even have time for breakfast and you’re gonna be late-

Sitting on your kitchen counter is a to-go cup of your usual, along with a packed version of your favourite. You take it and sip on the cup, allowing yourself one moment of respite, before continuing along with your day.

It doesn’t surprise you when you hear of a distant warehouse somewhere blowing up on the evening news, with the mentions of a horrific bloody scene being found when the police show up.

You look out of the window of the subway car then, watching Spiderman swing away on some buildings. You would have to address this weird thing between you at some point. Last night happened because he was not doing good. Yeah, you were mad but you had to help him there. You owed it to your relationship. Guess the next time he met you, you’d bring it up. To hell with it if it soured things even more, you needed an explanation, and you needed to be fair to yourself.

...What the fuck was your life anymore.

[mewnewew]

Blunt hammers and Bright eyes

hope you like this! this time we have someone new's pov!

German translations:

Alles gut: All good.

chapter 2, chapter 4

You were... really fucking creepy. When having nothing to do, you would stick to him, either sitting to the side and watching him, unless he threw a book at you or ordered you to go watch a damn movie.

Which you did. When he gave you something to consume, you would do it without pause, and if, then only to write down words which you didn't understand to later ask him about. With movies, he had to be beside you, since you had a lot of questions, which led to a lot of movie nights where he'd work or destress and you'd ask your questions. 

Hell, the first time you'd see him without his gloves, you couldn't stop staring at him till he finally snapped.

"What?"

You traced on his table's surface then, 'HAND. LIKE MINE.'

He froze and gave you an incredulous look. Did you think that- "Puppy, did you think that the gloves were my hands?"

You nodded and he threw his hands in the air, still flabbergasted. "But-how?! That idiot in that movie we saw yesterday had gloves! He took them off! He had hands too!"

You shrugged and traced again, 'HE IS NOT YOU. YOU ARE NOT IN THE MOVIE.'

He groaned then, before storming off grumbling about you. 

----))

He hummed to himself now, examining a dug up corpse in front of him. Thanks to the snowstorm, and the night's darkness he couldn't fully examine what the healthiness of the body, so he was currently leaning down, closer to thedge of the pit to more or less squint at it, before he flinched hearing the whistle.

His head whipped to the side in the direction of the whistle and he saw you, standing a few feet away, pointing at a warding goat nearby, the dim light of the lantern kept near him barely illuminating the goat's vague silhouette. He blinked at the figure then looked at you frowning, "Since could you fucking whistle?" 

You perked up at that, and gave him a grin. A fucking grin. He froze, staring in shock. You were smiling. What the fuck. So shocked, in fact that he almost launched his hammer in the direction of some villagers who were coming to the cemetery.

"L-L-Lord Heisenberg!" The man in the front stammered.

Karl jerked then straightened, scowling. "What? What business do you have here at this hour?" He snapped, perhaps a hair more jumpier than usual. He noticed you, slowly coming over to him, beside the pit, more or less hidden thanks to the trees standing in front of the ditch, back to his Soldats down said pit. Thank Fuck you were tall, you were able to hide his creations from any prying eyes.

 

"W-we just wanted to pay our respects to our friend" croaked the man, he had salt and pepper hair, and... aw fuck, he knew this guy. He was some distant or the other nephew of Luisa's wasn't he? He had seen him when the man was a babbling toddler, left for Luisa to babysit him that afternoon. This was some decades back, when Karl used to at least made a few visits to Luisa once every few years or so. Hell, this kid had played around with Karl, cooing as the Lord made the utensils float above the toddler's head with chubby hands while the older two talked. The toddler had now grown into a middle-aged man, with salt and pepper hair, and a bit of a scruff. 

Karl snorted then, hand taking out a cigar. "'Fraid the cemetery is closed tonight. Killed a monster roaming around here. Not a pretty sight, so clear out!" 

The woman behind the man yelped at the sudden bark, jolting the group into action and Karl watched as they bowed at the waist and started scurrying away. "A-and good night to you too Lord!" The man from earlier called out to him. You tilted your head at the fleeing group.

Karl huffed, and turned to you and the Soldats. "Hurry up already. We've spent too much time here." He hissed, turning to stomp towards the factory.

----))

He couldn't stop staring at you as you ate, wolfing down food as usual. Today, it was Pilaf. Karl had long since finished with his food, watching you as mental cogs and screws worked together in unison. "Y'learned that shit from the movies huh?"

You paused, rice stuck to your chin, eyes on his lenses, then tilted your head, confusion obvious in your gaze.

 

"The whistling, Puppy. You learned it from the movies, didn't you?"

You nodded. Well, that answered that. However, he didnt think that any of the movies actually depicted how to whistle, only that someone did it. Did you remember how to from before Miranda? From your past? Or did you just, watch someone do it on TV, and copy them perfectly? 

He waited till you were done, before fishing out a notebook and a pen from one of his coat pockets and putting them before you. "Answer."

You blinked before taking the notebook and pen, looking expectantly at him, awaiting his questions.

"Do you remember anything before Miranda?"

You squinted at the table then for a bit before writing on the notebook and turning it to show him. 'YES. SMALL BITS.'

He furrowed his brows, and folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. "Bits? Like what?"

'A SONG.'

"A song?"

You nod. He scratches his chin. "Okay, anything other than that?"

'HOW TO BATHE, HOW TO READ, HOW TO WRITE. KINDA.' you perked up at the last word when you wrote it. On seeing the word he hummed, ah you had picked it up from one of American movies.

"Alright, alright, I get it. Hmm, so basic stuff huh?"

Later that night, he worked on making a little... communicating device for you. Granted you couldn't speak, he really needed to look at what Miranda had specifically done to you but you could make sound. If that amount of sound was whistling, it made sense then. Hell, maybe the two of you could make a code. 

He sat at his worktable, frame built a small but full box of small screws, cogs, and the like sitting beside the frame, fiddling with the radio part of it when he heard a few squeaks right behind him, as if the creature making that noise was behind his ear. He turned his head around, expecting a mouse or some such (which wouldn't be completely impossible) and saw you, having an impish grin. Did you just-?

"...Puppy. Did you make that sound?"

You nodded, almost beaming now. He snorted, well, at least he couldn't say that you weren't full of surprises anyway. He turned back to the little reciever, using his power to twist the wires into the connecting areas. "From the movies again, huh? Good for you."

He heard your boots step closer as you hovered behind him. With one finger you traced on his shoulder. 'WHAT ARE YOU MAKING?'

He ignored the urge to shiver at the sensation and furrowed his brow instead, hand fishing for another smaller screw in the box to fit it. "You can't speak Puppy, but you can make sound."

With that, he looks up and pauses, your face was ridiculously close to his. He grins. "Time for you to learn Morse code."

The first thing he did, after making it was to come up with a code outside Morse. See, if you clicked your tongue, that was no. A whistle means you were okay, a squeak meant that you were trying to get his attention for something, and two squeaks meant that something was off and he needed to get there quick. Next came the Morse code itself. If you tapped the surface, with simple taps substituting dots and harder ones as dashes, perhaps it could work.

He made you practice the code till you could do it so quick that it made him pause for a few seconds before he put it together. Then he barked out a booming laugh, slapping a hand on the table. "Attagirl. Good job, Puppy"

You beamed at him.

----))

He was itching to test out your knowledge when he wasn't with you. A week had more or less passed since the Duke had last come by, and Karl was waiting for the man to come by. He sat, shoveling breakfast stew down his gullet, eyes trained on the beeper on the wall. You were reading one of the books he had given you while eating your stew, almost hunched over in your chair. 

Buzzzz

Karl straightened, grinning. You too straightened and looked behind you at the Buzzer. You put the book down, and tapped out. 'DUKE?'

Karl huffed, "Good memory, Pup. Yeah, its him. And with him...." he folded his arms, before extended one towards the door. "Comes your next test! You, dear Pup, are going to go and collect the goods, while using that reciever I made you, to let me know your progress as you make your way to the door and collect the stuff. Got that?"

You listened, before nodding, getting up and pointing at the receiver, which was hooked onto your waist. 

Karl nodded, "Yes, switch it on when you need to, that big one there-yes, good. Now, get going. Here-" he fished out two palm sized bags of Lei, "give these to him for last time and this time's payment. Okay? Go on now, shoo"

You took the bags gently, and put them in your pocket, before shuffling off. He got up then, after a while, and grabbed the bowls, dumping them in the sink before heading on over to his surveillance room. There were a few rooms and areas in the factory he had more or less banned you from. Some you could enter to a certain point even without him, some you couldn't at all, and some you could with him present, only. 

Sturm's bunch of rooms, obviously, then the surveillance room, the exhaust room, the disposal floor, a few more areas and finally, his own bedroom. The reasons why, ranged from them being too dangerous for you -he should probably test out your durability with some of the machines he had- to him outright not wanting to let you in the area owing to you possibly running away/trying something.

You hadn't actually made a motion to leave, from what he had seen. Other than just being mildly curious of what the things around you were, you seemed agreeable to being complaint with his rules. What did this mean, he didn’t really know. Some part of him didn't feel like asking either. Better to just be happy with what he got, he supposed.

Rubbing a hand over his chin, his other hand clicked from camera to camera looking for the feed where you currently were. Ah, you had just reached the floor of the doors. Time to check in.

Opening the audio feed, he leaned close to the speaker as he spoke. "Hi, Puppy. Can you hear me?"

His eyes saw you pause and look around before seeing the speaker, and pushing the button on the receiver to turn it on, giving a short whistle. Okay, that's good. He could hear you, and you could hear him. Good. He would have to work on making it an audio loop entirely with the speakers so that a receiver feed could be accessible by anyone not having a separate receiver device entirely. 

"Okay, you know where the doors are, yeah? Give him the Lei first when you meet him, got that?"

You whistled again, before heading to the doors. Alright, time to switch to another feed.

-----))

You followed the path to the door, and waited, watching the doors swing open. There he sat, in his carriage, the Duke. With his new smells, and the horse in the front. Like last time, the man had a big smile and open arms. You liked his suit, and him as well. He was nice.

"Why if it isn't the newest resident of House Heisenberg! Am I to collect my pay from you today, Miss?" He asked voice matching his face in the similar act of being jovial.

You nodded, and reached a hand into your pocket before taking out the bags of Lei, carefully handing them over. The man took them from you, still smiling and nodded as he collected them. 

"Do convey my thanks to the Lord, my dear. The orders from last time are here by the wheel."

You took the three packages, balancing them against you, so that you could handle all three in one hand. You turned to leave before the Duke halted you.

"Ah, please wait. I have one more item to give you."

You gave him a curious look as you turned your head to see what he had, he now offered a small box, which was thin, and roughly the size of your palm. You pointed at yourself, wordlessly asking, 'For me?'

He gave you a nod, and watched as you took it. "It's a welcome gift, to my shop. Free of charge! I hope you find it to your liking."

You gave him a small smile, bowing your head a little, before finally turning to leave, the gates opening as you entered the lair.

When you walked back, you heard Heisenberg's voice come from the machine above. Was that what was called a speaker? You paused, looking up at it. "Well? Got everything Puppy? Any problems?"

Shuffling the load onto one arm, your other hand tapped out an answer onto the reciever on your hip. He had taught you that a dot was a simple tap on the surface, and a dash was harder tap. So with that...

-. --- / .--. .-. --- -... .-.. . -- ... .-.-.- / .- .-.. .-.. / --- -.- .- -.-- .-.-.-

Which meant, 'NO PROBLEMS. ALL OKAY.'

You perked up slightly as you heard his grin through the speaker. 

"Alles gut, eh? That's good then. Alright. Bring the stuff down to the workspace. Need to sort out the stuff."

You moved to the elevator then. That meant you had followed his orders perfectly. That was good. You were given to him after all. Listening to his orders well meant that he wouldn't yell and be angry. When that happened things started floating around him, and you had to dodge. It meant him grumbling and yelling to himself, asking questions that you... didn't have to answer? You didn't understand that part. All you understood that when it happened, it was best to stay close, but not so close as to get hit with a floating cog or a hammer. The one time it happened he seemed to get angry over that and order you out. The rest of that day he wouldn't let you come close, and dismissed you earlier than usual. That wasn't fun, it was supposed to be movie night day.

You left the lift as the doors opened, walking to the work room. Anyway, it was much better here than with the black feathers lady. The lady that Heisenberg called 'Mother.' They didn't seem to like each other really, and if you were asked, you'd pick his side over hers. He was more fun, and nice. He let you watch movies and you got to surprise him with new sounds or 'good jobs'.

[mewnewew]

Something grows beneath the cracks

Tw: mentions of violence, injury, blood, death and emotional pain caused due to previous mind control. Photo from New X-Men, ch.142, penciler: Chris Bachalo and colorist: Chris Chuckry

Chapter: Prologue, 1., 2.,

You woke up with a sob, eyes opening immediately as you sat up and ran a hand over your face as you gasped for air. Your eyes were wide and searched all over your room as you woke up from your nightmare. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, other hand coming to your chest and running soothing circles over the fabric of your shirt.

Thunk, thunk, thunk

You flinched, body jerking as you looked at the covered window. You stared for a few minutes, wondering if you had hallucinated it.

Thunk, thunk, thunk

You inhaled sharply, body starting to quiver slightly. You weren't thinking, till you were, instinct giving over to curiosity and suspicion. You got up, slowly, and pulled it back, freezing as you saw his figure, back illuminated by the new lit up sign opposite your building. You could see his silhouette and the ends of his blonde hair. You opened the window slowly and didn't say anything till he spoke then, grin obvious in his voice.

"Hey Darlin, mind if I spend the night? Gotta heal up somewhere quiet an' I'm hungry"

"R-right. Right. Yeah, wh-what happened this time, huh? You fought sentinels or something?" You choked out, already turning to head to the other part of your apartment, mildly thankful of the mundane behaviour you were used to.

He climbed in, this time wearing nothing much but a long brown overcoat, with little necklaces cobbled out of animal teeth, twine, and other materials you didn't know the origin of. His hair was longer this time, braided some, with little pieces of jewellery within the braid, holding it together, reaching his mid-back. As he moved inside the sounds of the various bits of jewellery clacked together, the sound of leather making a squished noise as he finally stepped inside. He watched your back and could smell the fear coming off you in waves, and saw the sleep present from earlier on your face. You had a nightmare. He'd landed up at your place almost immediately after it seemed.

He followed your direction, till he sat on the couch. His arm still braced on the giant chunk of flesh missing from most of his waist, blood and some parts of his remaining small intestine being held by his hand. He followed you to the couch, watching as you brought out the usuals: cleaning fluid, paper towels and ice cream. You knew he would heal up, and you knew that he got really hungry when he was done. You came back and handed him the container and a spoon, before going back to the bedroom to start cleaning up the spots of blood from the floor. When you had come back to the hall, he was eating, watching you.

"What?" You asked, a bit more sharply than usual.

"Nuthin. Got anything else t'eat?"

You scoffed and fished out your phone from your pocket, throwing it at him as he caught it with one hand. "Order. You're paying me back."

You sat next to him with a huff, starting the TV. You put on some show you were in the middle of watching, letting it play as he switched between selecting something to order and watching you. Your frame was calmer now but still a little tense. You grabbed the container and started to eat the rest. After a while he handed it back and grabbed the container back from you, you didnt react, quietly letting him do his thing.

An hour later, the delivery came and you collected it , handing it to him without a word, sitting down on the couch beside him again.

"Victor?" You asked quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the sounds from the TV.

"Yeah?"

"You... you're real, right?" You said it casually, but he could smell the slight fear in your system.

And there it was. The question he was waiting for. See a little before he met you, you were amongst a crowd of people controlled by Mysterio during an attack. You saw your family and friends saying awful things and attacking you, hating you. You had healed somewhat from it, but when you had nightmares, half of those would be of what you saw in that attack. So you needed that sort of touch, that sort of affirmation that someone still cared for you, and that you weren't alone. When you both were together, his touch or his warmth was enough for that. That was back then though. Now...

"Yeah. M'real darlin."

You nodded to yourself, face still looking ahead, eyes trained on the screen. But he could feel you take in a relieved breath.

The only light in the whole apartment was the light from the TV, flashing over your figures, and the sound from the same source. Distantly, there was some sounds from the streets outside, such as the cars which drove past, or the vague sounds of a possible fight happening in the distance. If you had inhuman hearing and if the TV wasn't playing, perhaps you could have heard the soft squishy sounds of his flesh and organs growing back. Of veins and nerves forming, connecting the brain and the blood to flow at their correct spots.

How much time passed since he had come he didn't know. Only that at some point, you had fallen asleep on him. He tipped you to the other side and stood, grabbing the empty containers and spoon, throwing them in the bin and the utensil in the basin. He walked back and switched off the TV and paused, looking down at you. Breathing even, he looked at you for a bit, before shifting and lifting you up in his arms, eventually standing up. He would never get tired of the feeling of you in his arms, the sensation so familiar that his body already knew how to hold you comfortably. He walked over to your bed and lay you down, pulling the sheets over you. He turned to leave, only to hear a soft mumble from you, he paused, and removed his coat. Then climbed in after you, turning on his side to see your face as it slept. He slept for a bit, then woke a short while later, his pants containing a small beeper - an indicator for an old-timey information broker - beeped, meaning he had a possible job offer waiting for him at a discreet bar. Time to go, but-

At some point, you wriggled closer to him, as if sensing his body warmth and burrowed closer to his torso. Head tucked into his neck, arms against his chest, legs tangled with him and he could feel that ache in his chest burning and sizzling, as if some fuck ass nanobot was in him without him knowing. As if you were a allergy and something in him could not handle you being so close, being so comfy with him again.

He needed to leave

He wanted to stay.

HeneededtoleaveHewantedtostayHeneededtoleaveHewantedtostayHeneededtoleaveHewantedtostayHE NEEDED TO-

You shifted in your sleep, head turning away, now on your back. He took his chance then, getting up, and extricating himself very gently and very quickly before grabbing his shoes he had left by the window and getting out of there.

-+-+-+-+-+-

Later, you saw on the news that he had slaughtered a bunch of policemen and was included in on a murder spree with Carnage involved somehow. You shut it off, before cupping your hands to the lower part of your face, your head tipped back as you sighed and tried to resist the urge to strangle not only him but fate itself. Fucker. Genuine, bloody, fucker. Idiotic, comfy, warm fucker.

At least you got your money back.

[mewnewew]

Something grows beneath the Cracks

Hehew.

Tw: Cussing

Chapters: Prologue, 1., 3.,

The next time he came was when he needed a place to hide for a bit. That red haired bitch, Widow and that legolas cosplayer Hawkeye were after him and a couple others. He rounded the corner and looked for a place, before he caught the scent of you from above. There. Your apartment.

In a few minutes, he was at your floor, knocking on the glass and hoping that you weren't fully asleep at this point. He didnt want to have to break the glass again. You would bitch and moan till you got either the window fixed or the money for it. Then after a while he saw the curtains pulled apart and you, wearing a long sleeved gray shirt, and some shorts blinking at him. You pulled open the window and raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking for a reason.

"Avengers on my ass."

You snorted and opened it, moving back, turning to leave the room. "Close the window when you're in." You call back.

He enters, closing the window and pulling the curtains back before following in the direction you'd gone. He smells it already, ice cream of your favourite flavour and the sound of one of your favorite shows playing on the TV. He sees you on the couch, watching, eyes on the screen, as you eat another spoon from the container. He wordlessly sits on the other end, watching as well. After a while you nudge the container in his direction, spoon within. He takes it and eats it too. It's after the episode ends and another's intro starts playing that you ask.

"Haven't seen you wear this costume in a while"

He grunts, passing the container back, "What can I say darlin'. Felt like it."

You side eye him, quirking a brow. "Y'know what? I never actually asked. Where did you get that from?"

The costume you're referring to, is his usual one which features on the news when he's on it. The gold yellow one with tan stripes on it and fur around the neck which has a headcovering like that red-eyed Cajun does. He hadn't been wearing it that much since your... split, since he'd been working quiet missions, and didnt require the predator colouring as much. He grabs the container from your offered hand and takes a big scoop this time as he shoves it in his mouth. " 'Was a tailor I went to for the first version of this, back in the 70's. Been going to him since then."

You click your tongue as you see him take a big scoop. "Oi, I'm saving it for later, don't finish it."

"Deal with it." He says cooly, passing it back.

You huff, shaking your head as you take it "Ass." You grumble. Then, "Wait so this has been the same since the 70s?"

He snorts, legs kicked up on the corner table. "Nah. It's had changes."

"Like what?"

He scratches his chin. "Had fur round' the wrists n' ankles. Lot more on the neck area too. This wasn't there either." He taps the head covering.

You make a disgusted face at one scene before replying. "Oh really? Why less fur and the head thing now?"

He shrugs, "Fur got in the way." You nod at that and settle in the peace of it. At some point while passing, you frown as you see him take another big scoop.

"Wh-aw c'mon! I told you not to!"

He grins like the Cheshire cat around the spoon. You move closer, trying to grab at it. "Give it back!"

He holds it above his head, smirking. You lunge at it, only half fall on his chest and scowl at him. He laughs, his usual raucous laugh bouncing across your hall and you sigh, hands already braced on him for better support. "Victor..."

He looks down at you and pauses. Seeing his face, you pause as well. It's like you both realise what just happened. The naturality of it all. You pull back suddenly, face twisting into regret and old anger. You almost snap your next words. "Just... throw the box when you're done."

He watches as you almost stomp over to the kitchen, washing a bowl earlier left in the sink. He can smell the anger, mixed with sadness in your scent. Can see the rigid, hunched posture. Can almost feel the swirl of thoughts in your head. His own emotions sit, starting to bubble in his chest, and for a split second he wants to go to you, turn your face towards him, but-

-×-×-×-×-

You sigh and start to turn, "Look, I-"

Only to pause to see the show still playing, the container sitting on your table, spoon still inside and an empty couch. You hear the click of the door, and you stare at it.

"Heathen." You say softly.

You actually had a pretty good idea of what was going on. His face might have changed when he saw yours but his eyes. They weren't his usual whole posturing self. He was comfy. He didnt even realise it, did he? Idiot. And he was the one who asked for it in the first place.

Why you decided to allow him to come stay was not something you could wholly explain. Not that you would. Unless he really asked in person. Only then. You sighed, hand rubbing over your face. Why did you allow yourself to become so soft with this man was beyond you.

-×-×-×-×-×-×-

Needless to say, you found a tub of that same ice cream a few days later outside your door when you came back home, unmelted, and still cold. You sigh and put it inside your freezer, feeling very old and tired all at the same time.

[mewnewew]

Blunt hammers and Bright eyes

heeeere's chapter 2! lemme know if you recognize the movies haha. or any guesses work too!

chapter 1, chapter 3

You were to some extent, interesting. And irritating to a good degree. See, the issue was that you couldn't speak. He had put a pen and old paper in front of you, to see whether you could write at the very least, and yes you could. You could understand some orders as well. If you couldn't, he would show you how to and you would do them, without question. So at least that was out of the way.

The communication factor was an issue though. He was sitting opposite you now, where you were eating some oats he had put in front of you. He had to mime how to eat before you did. He had a lit cigar in his mouth, one arm on the table, another on the back of the chair, the hand there rubbing his thumb and index finger together, as his mind worked on his analysis of you and your actual purpose here. All of a sudden he flinched as you tapped the back of his gloved hand with one of your bigger fingers. His head snapped upwards, a sneer on his lips. "What?"

You traced out on his hand, 'WHAT IN MOUTH?'

He blinked, head alternating between staring at the back of his hand and your face before he exhaled. "What, this?"

He took it out of his mouth. "It's a cigar, Puppy. Not good for you."

(In reality he didnt want to share but you didnt have to know that. Plus it would be better if you didn't, since he wasn't fully knowledgeable of your body's composition.)

You nodded slowly in understanding. Then traced again on the surface of the table. 'WHY…' Then you paused, frowning and pointed at the smoke emitted from the still lit cigar before back at him.

"Smoke? Cause I like it. That's why." He answered gruffly.

You blinked a few times before tracing again. 'I LIKE FOOD I ATE'

He huffed a laugh, taking a long drag from the cigar, still holding it in his fingers. "You did huh? Tell me, you feel hunger? Thirst?"

You squinted at the question before shaking your head. You traced then. 'NO, STILL LIKE EATING'

He hummed as he watched you, exhaling, "I see." Then he straightened, clapping his arms together and getting up suddenly, almost jumping out of it. "That's enough chatting for today then. C'mon, you've got work to do."

Your face schooled itself before you got up as well.

-----))

Karl didn't actually know what to do with you. He had long since automated his work, when it came to the Soldaten. Other than the actual placement of the Cadou and mechanical parts, hell even the miner-soldaten were more or less already pushed by their programming to do what they did. So what should he do with you? He knew that technically speaking, if you were to do anything - once you had been taught that is - you would do it. Then it paused, literally freezing in his steps, making you almost bump into him. You leaned down, face curious. He looked up, and grinned.

"Puppy! You're gonna learn how to make a soldat!"

You blinked and followed him anyway.

-----))

As he rambled on, explaining how to correctly remove the organs, and put in the Cadou, he realised you were more interested staring in fascination at the Cadou. He snapped then, slapping a hand on the corpse's torso. "Hey! You better be paying attention here. I'm testing you after this, and if you get any wrong…"

He bared his teeth in a grin, but it was more of a sneer. "I'll be putting it in you. Get that Puppy?"

You blinked, then tilted your head to the side, before righting it, and copying his grin-sneer mix. He groaned, and rubbed a hand over his face. "Just pay attention, will you?"

You nodded, and so he continued teaching you. You really were a quick learner. After you had successfully made it work, you looked at him, and he harrumped. "Yeah, yeah, good job. C'mon now, its late. We gotta figure out a place for you to sleep."

You followed him, till he came to what used to be a spare container room, which was now fashioned with an old mattress which he had found a while ago, discarded from Lady Mega Bitch's castle, fixed the spring, and now it was yours. An old blanket he had intended to use for some other project, and an oddly shaped pillow. There was a metal shelf close to the mattress. It was wholly a small area, but enough that you could fit in there while sitting or standing. You looked at it for a bit and then down at him.

He nodded, not taking the cigar out of his mouth as he answered, "Yeah, 's yours. Get some sleep. We have work to do tomorrow."

With that he walked off and you watched him go before he heard your shoes step onto the floor. 'Wonder when did she last sleep in a bed'

In the morning, he opened the door a creak and found you curled up on the mattress, blanket under you, with you curled around the pillow. He watched your sleeping face for a bit, before slamming the door open with a loud clang. "WAKE UP PUP! Work's not going to finish itself!"

At that you jumped, pushing yourself up to a sitting position, hair all over the place, blinking up at him with alarm and readiness. He almost felt bad before he turned on his heel heading towards the eating area. "Better hurry up or there won't be any food left."

He was watching you eat again, mildly fascinated by the genuine appreciation you had for the food. And it was only oats. He sipped on the coffee from the cup in his hand, before he sighed, closing his eyes. A tap on his hand made him open one eye to look at you.

"What?"

You swallowed, tracing on the table's surface. 'UNHAPPI?'

He paused before clicking his tongue. "No, Pup, its Unhappy with a Y. Get it?"

You nodded once but continued staring at him, as if waiting for an answer. He scoffed, boots crossing at the ankles across from you. "M'not unhappy. Just waiting for someone."

Before you could ask, a loud buzz was emitted from the buzzer overhead. He groaned, pushing his chair back as he stood up suddenly. "C'mon Puppy. Time for you to meet the Duke."

A short while later, you were staring at the large man beaming at you from his comfy seat in the Wagon. "Lord Heisenberg!" He said gleefully, "You didn't tell me you had taken on a-"

"She's a gift from Miranda for aiding my work, nothing more" the gray haired man grumbled, eyes checking the goods the Duke got him.

"Ah, yes, I see." The Duke rubbed his hands, and turned to you, who were staring in wonder at the horse. "Interested are you Miss?"

You nodded then flinched when the horse snorted, shaking its neck. You looked at the Duke, pointing at the animal. He chortled. "Yes, you may say hello. He's quite nice, really."

You perked up and trudged on over. Heisenberg watched you tilted your head this way and that before offering it your hand. The horse huffed air into your open palm, and you tilted your head, blowing out a puff of air from your nose as well "Anything else you require, Lord Heisenberg?" Interrupted the Duke, eyes not missing the way that Heisenberg seemed focused on you.

Karl snorted, hands taking out a cigar and lighting it. "Yeah. Need some stuff for her."

He rattled off a quick list for the merchant. The man raised his eyebrows, thumb and forefinger stroking his chin. "Yes, I can do that. However, I'm afraid that might take a little more Lei than the usual amount…"

Karl rolled his eyes "Put it on my tab."

The merchant clapped his hands, beaming. "Of course, of course! I'll be delivering it within a week's time."

Karl huffed. Then looked at you, having progressed to touching the horse's nose. "Puppy! Time to go, you're gonna help me load all of these up."

"Puppy? Is that a-"

"I don't pay you to ask questions, big man. You ready? Don't take all day now." He sneered at you next, watching as you slowly stacked the last bag in the large collection in your arms.

"Of course, my Lord. As said, the supplies will be delivered in the following week." Waved off the Duke, all too used to the snappish attitude that the grey haired man put out. He turned to you. "And to you, Madam. Feel free to ask for anything you might desire. I shall do my best to accommodate."

After a while, you nodded and headed inside. The Lord following, grumbling under his breath. The doors of the factory closed again.

-----))

The Duke watched you two walk in and got the feeling that things would soon end in this village. Whatever this place carried for so long… would end soon. He was unsure of how long till, or by how much, but he knew. Things would end soon.

-----))

Inside, Karl was fiddling with the very old CD player. The Duke had presented it to him a few years ago, and he played CDs which he got from the Duke when needing something to settle his mind while he worked, or when he wanted to see more of the world robbed from him. You, were sitting behind him looking at the pictures of the movies on the CD covers in your hands.

"Ha! Here we go." He said triumphantly. He got up and sat down, on the other chair across the table and looked at you. You were now looking interestedly at the screen and he grinned, hearing the title screen come.

"You're in for a treat, Puppy. This here is a good one."

You looked at him and motioned for him to give his hand. His eyebrow raised as the sound starting playing, and he handed it to you, palm up. This was how you ended up communicating with him. Either by pointing and asking by way of facial movements or by tracing out words on his palm or a paper nearby. He should probably figure out a better way for you to communicate.

You took it, and traced out. 'WHAT IS THIS?'

"It's called a movie. It's uh, moving pictures. You know what pictures are right?"

You nod, and turn your head to see the screen and he turned sideways in the chair, half watching the screen and half watching you. You were watching with rapt attention, eyes agog at the blazing fires and the car jumps in the movie. At times you squinted, looking confused at some parts and he would give quick explanations.

"That's a car. It's like… a very fast machine."

"That's a cigarette. Think of it like a smaller cigar."

"That's beer. It's a drink."

"They're called police. Its a group used to make people follow laws. It's like… making sure that the village people follow Miranda's rule."

"His hair is shaved, that's all. He does have hair… I think."

"They're kissing. I'm not going to explain why he's without clothes. So don't even ask"

You just listened, absorbing whatever he said as explanation as you leaned forwards from your chair in interest. After the movie was over and the credits had finished rolling, you looked at him, your body language clearly showing appreciation for what you had just seen.

He grinned, and lit the cigar in his mouth, the light of the flame bright against his dark glasses. "Liked that didn't ya? Good. Means you have taste."

-----))

Karl stared at his desk, at the small haphazardly created rotating ball of metal in front of him, floating above his desk. He could hear the clanking and the usual steams and hisses of the factory coming from other sections distantly. He was half slumped backwards on the chair. One arm stretched out and resting on the desk, the other one hanging off the back of the chair. His hat was hanging off of one of the hooks on the wall, hammer also leaning against the same wall across where he sat. He was currently sitting in his usual workspace, when he wanted to tinker or think about shit. Behind him was the board for planning shit against Miranda and the other dickheads.

He was wondering what to do with your lack of speech. From what he could see from the fight, those black lines on your skin seemed to coagulate wherever there seemed to be an attack coming towards it. When that Lycan bit you, it coagulated on that area, making your skin… impenetrable? Or did it harden the skin? He would have to conduct some tests on you.

The ball spinning in front of him, tore apart suddenly, and formed a vague approximation of two gauntlets. Working on that theory, if your skin could be pierced, did that mean the Mold would come out? Form a shield for you like that weird invisible lady could? She formed it from the light rays around her from what he could remember from the movies, would the Mold do that for you? Another question he had was what exactly was your healing rate? He noticed that you didn't necessarily have the urge to eat or drink… or you hadn't realised what the feelings of them were for. Damn, you were a new box of surprises from that bitch weren't you? An interesting one, but still.

He removed his glasses with the hand on the desk, sighing as he tilted his head back, looking up at the brown, dusty ceiling. He couldn't forget that curious look from your eyes when you saw anything around you. He was still wholly unclear as to what did remember from before. He had the assumption that you were a villager, but just in case, you could just be some unlucky outsider who accidentally fell into this cursed area and got used. He would have to ask Luisa. Fuck, he did not like going to her. He groaned then, free hand coming to drag a gloved hand down his face. What was his life.

[mewnewew]

Blunt hammers and bright eyes

Karl Heisenberg x Fem!OC

Hello, hello, Heisenwhores. This is my debut to the love pile we all have made to the Discount Magneto man himself. This story is, something. Im hand waving a lot of the elements, so apologies if I end up changing some bits of canon. Okay? Okay. Also if the German is wrong, I'm begging you to tell me.

Translations: Groß Typ: Big Guy, Groß Mädel: Big Lass

TW: referenced human experimentation, description of gore, fighting. Threats of violence.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Karl Heisenberg would probably never say this out loud but he would have happily given his factory away if it meant he could choose not to ever walk into Miranda's lair ever again. You see, Karl was summoned by Miranda a short while ago, on grounds for a 'discussion needing to be made'. Fucking hell. He was much happier working on his army and experimenting with the Cadou. He grumbled as he made him way to her lair. He didnt even think as the doors opened with a bit of a groan, and he strode in, boots making loud thumps against the ground in this empty, still area. He made his way to the entrance of her lab. She stood there, waiting with her usual stern look of practiced calmness.

"Heisenberg. It has been some time since I had called on you my son."

He smiled, practiced, mimed tipping his hat to her. "I suppose it has, Mother. What exactly have you called on me for today?"

Something not too far from where he stood, in the direction of her work space, made a shuffling sound. Like of skin against a surface. She probably took another villager then. He mused. Poor bastard.

She tilted her head up, and turned leading him into her lab "Come."

He followed her, eyes rolling behind the dark lens of his glasses. The only sound now being of his boots thumping against the cobbled floors as he trailed behind her. Mentally he imagined himself taking the hammer secured to his back and hitting her from behind like that one Whackamole game he saw a bit of in that arcade scene from one of the movies he got from the Duke. One slam and she would be done. If only...

Eventually the duo reached her lab, the usual dim lighting and papers and liquids filling the room, a Cadou sitting in a flask on the table next to the door and photographs littering the main table in the middle. He followed her as she moved to one of the cages, eye catching on a metal guilded... book? With his family crest on it. What the hell was that?

She stopped in front of the cage and he looked into it, seeing a large curled up body of a humanoid like body, messy black hair covering the face, with brown eyes staring back at him, alert but simply observing. It wore a shaggy brown tunic, covered in old stains, similar to his coat. It's arms hugging its knees to its chest. It sat silently, just watching. He took out a cigar and lit it, releasing a puff of smoke before finally asking, "What is it?"

Miranda opened her arms slightly. "An experiment. I had tried to make a culmination of the mold and the human flesh, where a small part of the Cadou was introduced in the flesh before being removed."

Her tone took a darker turn. "I had hopes it would be a viable body for my dear Eva, but no. It's shown little to no changes, other than the body increasing its size after possessing the mold within itself."

Karl considered her words, mind already thinking and trying to guess about what she was getting at. The experiment itself seemed to be staring at Karl, examining him.

"...What is my purpose here, Mother?" He asks, looking at the blonde woman, holding the cigar out of his mouth with one hand, the other stuffed in his pocket.

She huffs, answering. "I want you to take it. Make use of it in your factory. I want to see if any changes occur while working under you."

He pauses, and immediately starts protesting. "Me? Why, Mother, I am grateful, but-"

It could be a surveillance device, Miranda could be secretly inhabiting a certain part of it like that weird creature which tore itself from that guy's body in that one movie, Karl's mind was already starting to think of possible threats it could become if it stayed.

"But nothing, my son. I have no need of it. You, however may use it however you want. It will follow your orders. Making it perfect for your work in your factory, I assume." She says, nose slightly in the air. She was watching him carefully now.

"Why not Alcina? Or Donna? Hell, even Moreau? I'm thankful, Mother but I do not need an aide in the factory. I'm perfectly fine."

"This is a gift, Heisenberg. You are to accept it, understand?"

He bowed his head. "Yes, Mother." Bitch.

She nodded once, and moved past him to leave. "I'll be expecting a report on its status while working under you at the next meeting, Heisenberg. Do not forget."

He watched her go, before taking another puff of his cigar and grinding it under his heel. Well. That went could have gone better.

He fixed a look at the creature, index finger curling to unlock the gate snd swinging it open. The experiment sat, watching his actions quietly. "Well? I don't have all day. Come on then."

It slowly uncurled itself, and got up, slightly hunching as it stood in the cage. He moved backwards and towards the central table. "Hurry up, will you?" He snaps.

It nodded, and ducked further, before straightening to its full height as it left the cage. Oh. It was taller than him. Not as tall as Alcina, but a foot or two shorter. It stared down at him, face still covered majorly by its tangled hair, tunic now unfurling barely touching the half its thighs. It hunched forwards again, leaning closer to him as if waiting for his next order, eyes carefully watching his face.

"Big one, aren't you?" He mutters, before turning on his heel, stomping to the door.

"Come on. I want to get back to the factory before dinner."

It followed quietly, and he side eyed it a bit as it shuffled behind him. It's arms and legs seemed to have scattered black lines covering the flesh as if they were small cracks in the foundations of a building. It's arms hung at their sides like it were a soldat without purpose, only their legs moving.

Eventually, they were halfway to the factory when it slipped. Catching itself on a nearby tree, it righted itself, not before it slapped a hand against the bark. Almost immediately after, he heard a couple of low snarls not too far off. He clicked his tongue, attracting his hammer to his hand.

"Nice going. You've brought the lycans to us." He says, almost bored. Then he looked at it, it was staring at him curiously. He grinned suddenly then, straightening.

"How about we make this a little interesting. You, are going to take care of them. Got that? You understand, Groß Typ?"

It tilted its head at him, then nodded. As if on cue, three lycans burst out of the trees, two holding weapons, one without. It's feet stood firm as the one without a weapon leaped towards it, it's arms already coming up in a defensive position, only to pause as it's teeth couldn't tear through the skin, now just hanging on to it's forearm like a... dog. Heisenberg raised an eyebrow as he saw the area where the lycan tried to bite the experiment, the area now black like the striations across what parts of the body he could see. It looked down at the struggling lycan before shaking it off and sailing an arc through the air into the other two watching.

They scattered as their comrade crashed in the mix of grass and snow in their direction and the one with a crude axe ran towards it, slashing in a forward arc. It braced itself and... punched the creature's head. Like it were somehow related to that boulder punching asshole. The Lycan splurted blood and viscera on the front of the experiment before flying backwards, body landing on a nearby tree, the crack from the punch slightly echoing in the silence of the area around the scene.

The next one bore some kind of breastplate and a machete, and charged towards it with a snarl. It punched snarling creature in its chest but that only made it stagger backwards. Suddenly it looked down at its arms as they were covered with some metal pieces, two large cogs on the backs of its closed fingers, some parts other parts covering the heel and the back of its hands itself. It looked back at Heisenberg.

"Well? Don't stop on my account. Keep going Groß Typ" he says casually, leaning against the long handle of his hammer which was now missing the head.

It nodded and looked forwards, just as the Lycan pounced. It delivered an uppercut to the upper part of its chest just under the neck, the creature coughing out blood and saliva on the experiment as the hit landed, its machete barely missing its shoulder. The loud clang of metal hitting metal echoed more loudly as it flew upwards and landed a bit away from the second lycan. The first lycan came running on all fours towards it and it grabbed the head before slamming it on the ground, the impact causing the head to crush, flesh and blood now coating its front. It slowly straightened and looked at Heisenberg before looking down at its arms as the metal pieces now flew slowly back towards him, reassembling his hammer. It stood now covered in lycan bits and blood, frozen, as if waiting for his next order, its hair now slightly stuck together due to the blood.

Heisenberg clapped once, grinning. "Good job for your first time. If only Miranda had let me look the research on you." He walked closer and looked up, taking a cigar from his pocket and lighting it up. He looked up at it, and it tilted your head down curious, assessing him.

He exhaled a puff from his cigar, its brown eyes trained on his face. "Quiet one aren't you?" He murmurs, before turning on his heel and hefting the massive hammer onto his shoulder.

"Come on then. We've wasted enough time."

At the factory, is when it starts to slowly click. He realises that not only was it looking around the place in genuine curiosity, you, (yes not it, but a you) actually pause at one point when he pauses to fiddle with a dented pipe. You physically crouch and point at it before looking back at him, tilting your head. You were asking what it was. When he walked past a soldat, you paused and put your face close to its head, tilting your head this way and that as if examining it before he barked at you to continue following him. It was official, you weren't mindless, you were very much a conscious being. However he was still curious about you. On the way, he fished through the cargo room, for the old clothes box. Getting the clothes he was looking for, he continued on, reaching his quarters, he pointed to the connected bathroom, and held the clothes out with the other hand to you. He had grabbed one of the shirts he had gotten for Sturm, along with a pant.

"Here. Wear these, and come to the office we passed by. Remember? The large worktable? That room. Don't take too long. I'll be watching, and I promise whatever Miranda did to you will be nothing compared to what I will if you fiddle where you're not supposed to." He warns, lens covered eyes carefully watching brown ones. You nodded and headed inside. He went on to the office.

A few minutes went by and he had already begun tinkering with one of his other smaller projects. Karl had long since found that he preferred working, or having his hands or mind playing around with metal itself. Sometimes he would make crude figures of animals or of some of his soldats, sometimes he would take the idea of what he saw in the movies and try to puzzle whether he could turn that into a weapon against Miranda. Either way, he had long since grown accustomed to deal with his boredom and his active mind.

He heard a thump towards the doorway and snapped his head to see, only to freeze. You stood there, blinking as you slowly ducked (Ah, you had hit your head entering, he realised) and entered the workspace. The pants were barely reaching the end of your kneecaps which was fine, he could just stitch some more, and the shirt... you were not a guy. You were hunching your head, ducking to not make your head brush the wall as you moved to stand in front of him, the shirt was not only barely able to deal with the much larger torso than it was created to deal with but also the accumulation of flesh at the chest area.

He clicked his tongue and got up, moving to grab a cigar from the table opposite to the one he was seated at. Grabbing it, he lights it, pointing at the chair he left. "Sit."

You comply quickly, and funnily enough, at this height you're only a little closer to his height now. He stalks closer and ah, now he can see it. There's an odd dark colouring of the striations around your neck. Might not be letting you speak, which explained why you had been so quiet the whole time. With his free hand he finally moves that mop of hair out of your face and huh. Not bad. He fiddles around in his pocket with his other hand, and grabs one of his spare hair ties. He moves behind you and ties it up into a ponytail, out of your face and hums as he comes back to your front.

"Guess I should be calling you Groß Mädel, huh." He speaks, blowing smoke into your face. You don't react, eyes just watching him attentively. Sheesh. A second later you put a hand back, pointing at the hair tie and look curious.

He huffs a laugh, taking another drag. "You're so curious huh? Like a damn puppy. That's a hair tie. It ties your hair back, get it?" He tilts his head after that, thinking.

"I suppose you need a name anyway so, Puppy it is." He announces with a mock flourish to his tone and you blink before nodding. He barks out a laugh.

"What, you're agreeing? Good grief, you're going to be interesting."

[mewnewew]

Something grows beneath the cracks

I have a word vomit on this, so check out the end notes lmao. Also do let me know if you want me to start a tag list for this! (In the comments please)

Tw: mentions of killing

Chapter: Prologue, 2.

1.

The first time he comes in, he doesn't need to, really. He can just hunker down somewhere. He's got a few people who owe him, some fool he can kill and sleep in their bed, a hotel he can figure out money for, anything. It's raining hard, and while he doesn't care, he wants to come over. Just to see if you're really holding up your side of the argument he thinks. That's all. Maybe to ease this pain in his chest.

So now he's standing on the fire escape in front of your window, curtains shut. He knocks hard on the surface.

Thump Thump Thump

A few minutes pass, and he's about to knock again when you show up, pushing the curtain aside. Blinking up at him, clothes rumpled, eye bags on your face, squinting at him for a few minutes as if to confirm that yes it's really him. He stares back at you, figure only illuminated by the light of the city behind his back and the occasional flash of lightening. Then you open the window, and speak, voice rough from sleep. "Gimme your shoes n' coat, I'll get you a towel and some of your old clothes which you left behind." You say, hands opened for the items.

He complies, and steps in as you turned to head to the door to drop off his shoes and to the other room, where he can hear the fan running. He stands, dripping water, looking around the bedroom. Exactly how it was before he left, except maybe a few pictures taped to the wall and a plush toy of a character from some show that you were probably watching sitting on the bedside table. He can smell your usual creams, and the smell of chocolate from a little earlier. You come back with a small pile in your hands, of the clothes he sometimes left here and a towel. "Bathroom, go." You yawn, looking a bit more awake, pawing them off to him.

He takes it and heads to the bathroom, ducking slightly. He dries himself and changes quick, pausing as he hears you calling out, telling him to squeeze them out. Opening the door to find you standing there hand open to take his wet clothes, silently. You head to the room again and he follows you, watching.

You move to the other room to hang his clothes on the large hanging frame under the fan, adjusting where needed and then shuffling back to your bedroom. He sticks to you like a shadow, watching, not saying anything. He joins you, eventually, watching your sleeping back. The image of your back to him, sharing a bed with him, trusting him is something he's seen a million times. He's pretty sure he even saw it in a dream once, blurry and colours fickle. But still warm. Still you.

He closes his eyes eventually, unsure of the amount of hours, or minutes it takes. He dreams of a forest, just after winter breaks. The frost slowly melting away, early animals running around, checking out what has survived and what has awoken. Just after dawn breaks. He wakes up before you, and realises at some point you moved closer to him, not touching bodily, but one of your hands are in holding his loosely. Did you do that in your sleep or did he, he doesn't know. He stares at your peaceful face, seeing the eye bags, the soft skin, the blemishes, the lines of your face, hearing little snores from you.

It's just like how it was before

For a moment he thinks that even if you hadn't allowed him to be in your bed again he would have anyway lived in this moment, having it tucked away somewhere in his head, after going to that asshole Xavier, or one of the runt's friends. His hand leaves yours, and he moves taking care not to wake you up, and leaves the room. He grabs his now dried clothes, changes into them, grabs his boots snd coat and takes a last look at you before leaving from the window itself. His query answered. You didn't go back on your word. Not that he expected you to. Not with him, he knew somewhere. Not really.

You'll wake up to find a post it note on the bedside dresser with a scrawl of "Thanks" on it. You'll pick it up and probably keep it somewhere safe, being the little sappy idiot that you are sometimes.

(=^ェ^=)

You did end up keeping it safe, but not before being mildly confused as to where the hell did he even get a post it note. You had run out of them a week prior. Plus, quietly examining his handwriting, you noticed that it was clean and small. Cute. Heh.

(=^ェ^=)

Author notes time! First off, yes this is short. I know. My bad. Second, This is essentially a post-breakup situation, where Victor is trying to understand what this 'ache' in his chest is. He's figuring shit out. Sort of. He inherently knows it, but is trying to not only put it to the test, but also Reader/OC here. In fact, he pulled the Wolverine move - leaving his beau to sort of protect them, etc etc. But here he's kind of playing with emotions here/figuring it out. Third, I was correct. Sabretooth is more popular here than on Ao3. Funny how that works haha.

[mewnewew]

Something grows beneath the cracks

Victor Creed/Sabretooth x Reader/OC

Hi! Yeah. Fuck. This is gender neutral, also about a POC reader! So yeah. This is a post breakup relationship btw you and Victor. Big idiot hasn't realised that he loves you, only that he's unsure about how hes feeling and doesn't like it. Reader is more than pissed off here but knows what he's feeling lmao. Also no this is NOT Movie Victor. This is as Comic Victor as much as I can do/fits. Yes there's more. 5+1 things cause I love em.

I would also like to include that its reader/oc here cause well yes the the whole argument of having stuff where the audience can't fully imagine themselves in makes it a oc situation. Also they're POC. Fight me.

TW: Cussing, mention of rape (not actually committed.)

Chapters: 1.,

Prologue.

He could hear you yawn into the phone, could picture you, probably working or just scrolling through something at night. You were probably on your bed, something playing in the background. Hell, he could probably even hear the song if he strained his ears off the shitty payphone he was currently using.

"...Uh, hello? Anyone there?"

Shit, right, he had called you. "...Heya, frail"

A pause. Then vitriol, "Oh for fuck's sake. Victor?"

He grinned, there it was. "Still awake? Supposed t'be bad fer ya"

You groan. "What the fuck do you want Victor."

"Nothing much, just wanted to chat. Hear yer pretty voice." Oh he was grinning so stupidly now, curling over and into the phone.

"Oh I'm not doing this. I'm so not doing this. Bye, Victor" You huff and he scrabbles.

"Hold on, hold on now. C'mon now darlin' don't be like that" He tried for more time. He had to.

"Why? What do you want?" you snap.

"...Aw, don't be like that darlin' " he looks at the ground under his feet, smelling the puke, the spilled beer, and even outside the bar he's standing, he can hear the chatter and the clink of drinks. He remembered going out to bars with you. Sometimes you drank, sometimes you just came to keep him company. He remembered when you got drunk, you got cuddly and very quiet. Your face would be devoid of the usual smile or grin, and be more thoughtful, just watching the scene around you. You trusted him to get you home, and you'd hum a bunch of songs under your breath.

You sighed and he could picture you running a hand over your face. "Victor, I swear I'll cut this call unless you goddamn tell what this call at... 1:34 AM was for."

He hesitated. He could lie. He really could. About anything. Heck, he coulda just come to your place. Brake in, seen you sleeping, maybe rub one out. Touch you. Kill you. Anything to get this fuckin ache outta his chest. But he wouldn't. Not to you. Never to you.

"...Ever think I could just be missin ya darlin?" He says instead, voice quiet with an easily missable tone of unease. He doesn't know if you heard it though.

"Oh really? Missing me? You were the one who went all, 'Oh I'm bad for you, you're nothing to me, this was a mistake' " You hiss and his lips curls. Yes he said those damn things because he didn't know how to be around you like that, dammit. Why couldn't you understand?

You huff, "There's only so much patience I can have for your emotional shit, Victor."

He growls, cheap plastic choking out a few tense creaks owing to how tightly he's holding onto the reciever. "Don't you go saying shit like that darlin' " he warns.

"Don't you 'darlin' me!" You snap.

"Fine, frail. Happy?" He asks sardonically.

He can hear you shutting the music off, grumbling under your breath. Ah, he's really gotten under your skin hasn't he? But then-

"How about this. Since you're gonna act like a goddamn Romeo about this whole affair, let me give you a proposition alright? Better this than you calling me at the ass o' clock of morning."

He pauses, confused. "Proposition? Hell're ya offerin?"

You suck in a breath, and mumble a 'god save me' softly. "Whenever you need a bed to sleep in for the night, or somewhere to hide for a bit, you can stay over."

He freezes. What.

"Not like, for weeks on end. Just for like a night or something. Through the window. You know the one." You say, half scoffing exaggerated, half clearly frustrated with yourself. He almost takes the receiver off his ear to look down at it to check whether he heard right.

"...Y'sure?"

"Well I wouldn't offer my fucking bed if I wasn't!"

"Alright, alright, keep yer hair on" He waves you off, free hand running through his hair. Jeez. What the hell were you saying?

"Why would ya offer that?"

You pause then answer quietly. "I dunno."

He scoffs but doesn't push. "Fine. Thanks."

"Yeah. Well..."

"See you, darlin."

"Sure. Bye, Victor."

He puts the reciever down and keeps staring at the numbers of the machine for a while. Then he goes back in to start a bar fight.

[mewnewew]

An Ode to Gratitude - as seen by a bird

Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Howdy folks! It's been a while! I've single-handedly had a horrible time and a decent time in life, and frankly, am close ta losin it. HOWEVER, I HAVE IDEAS GROWING. SO I WILL LET THEM GROW IN STOLEN MOMENTS AND IN STRENGTH. LFG. For me friend, @moldychefboyardeecan, Alex, you're a cool ass dude yo. CHECK OUT THEIR WORK. Also, this picture is Crocodile from One Py Berry Match, as gotten from the OP Fan Wiki

Robin could go on and on about how different the two of you were. Not limited to who you chose to speak with, or how you two chose to spend your free time, but also favourite foods, preferred taste in friends, etc. Honestly, she had a mental bet to see how long you two were going to last as a relationship. Funnily enough, it had crossed the 5-year mark, and now she was curious if the 10-year mark would also be crossed. 

One of the other things she noticed was how quickly you managed to adapt to his expressions and (mostly) nonverbal communication. While you were much more (as compared to him) chattier, it was almost comical to see how you two communicated nonverbally when it came to social gatherings or official events through touches, eye contact, or, sometimes, when she was present, actual gossip. That's right, Sir Crocodile was a gossip. Someone willing to let his spouse prattle on, while he sat beside them, whiskey in hand, using the moment as a moment of relaxation.

The first time it happened in her presence, she had to fight not to snap her head to immediately look at Crocodile to confirm that yes, that surly cigar smoker was actually participating in the gossip his partner had heard and brought him.

Now, to be clear, he did have methods that would allow him to gather such gossip. That's the reason he had so many people working under him, after all. But she suspected he used these moments not only to spend time with his partner, but also to ensure he got something else out of it — work-wise. Most likely, due to the information she managed to give ended up giving him a newer way of understanding how to manipulate them, if not learn how to use them to help his business in some way or another.

"Remember, I told you the Atkins were having issues?"

A noncommittal grunt and a swig of the liquor came the response.

"He's cheating on her! With his cousin!"

A snort answered the statement, and a laugh from the earlier speaker.

"Yeah! He's been doing this since January!"

A rustle of the cushions as one moves closer to the other.

“There’s some talk that his wife is now fighting for the ownership of the Pearl Peaks branch of his jewelry business. So that he’ll be left with the other half, which is his main branch, on Zinnia Falls.”

“I see,” followed by the clink of metal rings against glass. Robin knows this will be a new piece of information that he’ll end up looking into when the morning comes.

Yes, it was true. Sir Crocodile spent some part of his evenings, when possible, gossiping with his spouse. Robin smiled to herself, however. It was nice to see him like this, somewhat relaxed and acting much more human.

Another time, was when she caught you fast asleep, head leaning against his side, snoring a bit. Both of you were seated on the sofa, as usual, but she had come to take his signed documents and file them before taking rest for the night. He had just finished signing the last one, before looking at her, nodding, and shifting to collect you into his arms, bridal carry. Getting up, he spoke out a quiet "Dismissed" to her and shifted to sand to move to your bedroom. Robin ended up pinching herself after he was gone to make sure she hadn't just seen things.

 You made him... soft. More calm, like a sort of drug. He was still strict and kept up appearances, but to those he allowed to see (which was Robin and you, really), he was softer. 

There was a time when he was sick and had been firmly told he needed to rest. He did, but not before telling Robin that she had to inform him when a particular plan had been conducted and what the results were. 3 hours later, when she knocked on the door to your bedroom, she heard a soft voice murmur, "Come in."

Opening, she saw a sight that she could feel was precious. She saw you, lying in bed, with a book in one hand, and the other on Crocodile's nape. The man himself, asleep, face away from the door, head pillowed on your chest, one arm clearly around your frame, even if it wasn't buried under the covers. You smiled softly at her, nodding for her to come close. 

"Hello, what's up?"

"He told me to wake him up after I got news about a shipment."

"Can you wait for another 30 minutes? He needs it." You asked, voice quiet, so as not to wake the man in question.

Robin paused, eyes flickering between the sleeping figure and you, before nodding and turning away.

A low 'thank you' followed her as she closed the door, smiling to herself.

But Crocodile had been fooling everyone, even Robin. He had a secret, which only you knew: you had both known each other since childhood.

He was actually born on another island, and while scavenging for food, he ended up falling into a barrel meant for a merchant's ship headed for Alabasta. When he managed to get out, he struggled for a bit, trying to survive in the new land. She was the first person who gave him food and water. The only thing he had, which he found in the barrel, was the Suna-Suna No Mi.

She played with him whenever she managed to sneak out, and the duo quickly formed a bond, some part due to them being the same age, if only months apart. She matched his sarcasm and fought with his stubbornness, with her boundless optimism and occasional bursts of realism. He stuck around with you and fought anyone stupid enough to pick on you. He taught you how to fight a blade, and barehanded, half because of your own want to learn and the other half because he treated you as if you were not of noble blood, but a simple person. It was during those early days that he ended up manifesting his fruit. That was where you and he had great fun learning what he could do with his sand.

He made sure to tell you of his dream. You didn’t laugh at it. You nodded and leaned against his side. “Fair enough. Just come to me whenever you need peace from it all. I’ll be there for you when you need me.” 

That was the first time both Crocodile and you kissed.

Over time, you two grew older and became closer. Whenever you were free, you spent time with him. To the point that the maids would gossip over your absences, and your occasional reappearances, where your clothes had sand in them falling sometimes, or how bits of jewels or antiques went missing every 1-3 weeks. On his 21st birthday,  you gave him a carving of a Bananawani made out of jade. You had put a special order for it two months ago. After seeing it, he curved a hand on your nape and kissed you feverishly like you were a taste of elixir. Crocodile pulled you aside one day and informed you of his upcoming departure. The night he left, he handed you a piece of paper and told you to keep it safe. Where you learned about what a Vivre card was and what its features were. He gave you another kiss, and minutes later, you waved at him from the pier, card in your hand. 

Communication happened via letters sent to and from Mr. BW, who responded by sending at least 3-4 letters a month or two when things got rough or whatnot. Years later, when Crocodile came to Alabasta as a Warlord, you both met again after all those years at midnight. The first thing you did? Punched him in the arm for getting so tall. Then he smirked before curling his arm around you to kiss you again. A year after that, he formally announced his intentions of marrying you to your parents, and while they were more than a little confused as to why Sir Crocodile so quickly decided to marry you, and why you were so easygoing with it. But they didn’t know. The two of you did, and that was enough.

Decades later, you laughed as you got into bed with him on a chilly night. Curling into his warm body like two puzzle pieces made for each other, as you heard him grumble about you being annoying. But you knew he didn’t mean that. Not when he held you tight to him like he would give Death a fight for the ages, and you grinning against his neck, sometimes pressing kisses to his skin, your own hands holding onto the back of his neck and on his neck as if daring anyone to even try and question whether you two belong together. “Grumpy reptile.” “Annoying heathen” he huffed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Love you too,” you whisper, theatre-style, smiling again as you close your eyes for the night.

[moldychefboyardeecan]

Hehw guess whooo :33

I ask for one Crocodile X Reader please! Maybe something REALLLY cute? Bonus points if ya make it funny!

You're 'Inconvinient', Darling.

sick!wife!reader x husband!crocodile

a/n: inspo from @mewnewew's ‘how to fall in love with sir crocodile’, hope you enjoy anon :3 i tried making it funny, but alas, as we learned from my previous ask, i am not fucking funny lmao

(though i knew who actually sent this one -*kaugh*)

wc: 1.9k

summary: You wake up sick, and your husband Sir Crocodile immediately tries to escape to work like the emotionally constipated man he is. But between your pathetic coughing and shameless manipulation tactics, he finds himself postponing his entire morning schedule to play reluctant caretaker.

Sir Crocodile doesn’t do sick days. He never has. 

So when you woke up, your voice as raspy and rumbled as a Sea King, he acted accordingly…with the grace of a cactus.

“..morning..*kaghk*..wani”

His eyebrow raised, still shirtless in the shared bed between you two, and softly nudged your face away immediately with his hook. “..Mmm, absolutely not, babydoll.” 

You give a small grumble and whine, turning to face your husband, pawing at his chest. “..waniii.” you croaked out.

“Amore, you’re staying in bed. No exceptions.” He side eyed, lifting the blanket just enough to keep you covered, while he gets up, his cigar and whiskey scent lingering in the mattress sheets. He turned his back away from you, opening the closet to get ready for his day out of bed.

“but-hakk—hackkkt—hhchkk-” It sounded so painful, just by hearing it–your chest buckling and convulsing. “-it's just the common cold, dear.”

Crocodile had just started buttoning up his white undershirt—two buttons done, the third half-looped—when he heard your lungs fighting with themselves. He took a deep exhale and slowly, turned his head toward you, and crossed back to the bed, with all the sentiment of a man who would rather get cold seawater dumped on him than to admit his love to his wife aloud to anyone else.

“Exactly why,” He muttered, brushing hair away from your face, before leaving a soft kiss on your scalp without hesitation–“you’re staying in bed.”

You attempted what might've been a pout, but with your face half-buried in the pillow and your nose completely blocked, it came out more like a congested scowl. "You can't just—snrf—imprison me in my own bed—"

"Watch me." He straightened up, resuming his button routine with renewed focus. "I'll have someone bring up food. Medicine. Whatever." Each button clicked into place with finality.

"Waniiii—" You reached out dramatically, like some tragic heroine in a stage play.

He didn't even look back. "That won't work."

"But I love youuu—"

"Still won't work."

"I'm dying—"

"You have a cold." He shrugged on his coat, then his fur one, the massive thing settling on his shoulders like a warlord's mantle. "You'll survive."

You watched him check his rings, his hook, the small adjustments he made every single morning. The morning light caught on the gold, on the polished surface of his hook, and you felt a surge of stubborn affection mixed with congested misery. Then, just as he reached the door, you played your final card: a pathetic, rattling cough that sounded like your lungs were filing for divorce.

His hand froze on the doorknob.

You coughed again for good measure. Really sold it this time. Added a little wheeze at the end.

"...Unbelievable." He turned around, and the look on his face was somewhere between annoyed and resigned. "You're weaponizing your illness."

"Is it working?" you rasped, batting your eyelashes. Or trying to. They were kind of sticky.

He stared at you for a long, long moment. Then he yanked his fur coat back off with one aggressive motion and tossed it onto the chair. "You're more trouble sick than you are healthy, and that's saying something."

"So you're staying?" Your voice pitched up with delight—then immediately cracked into another coughing fit.

"I'm making a call." He pulled out his Den Den Mushi, and the snail's eyes immediately shifted—becoming sharper, more severe, the entire expression hardening into something unmistakably Daz Bones. "Daz. Clear my morning schedule."

"Sir?" The snail's mouth moved with Daz's distinctive monotone. "Is there an emergency?"

"Because I said so." His eye twitched. "No, there's no emergency. No, we're not under attack." His gaze slid over to you, and you gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile. "My wife is...indisposed."

"...Indisposed," Daz repeated, and even through a snail you could hear the careful neutrality. "Should I send a doctor?"

"She's sick, Daz, not—no, I don't need you to send a medic. Just—" He set the Den Den Mushi down on the dresser for a moment, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation before picking it back up. "Soup. Send someone with soup. The good kind. Not whatever slop the kitchen usually makes. And tea. That herbal nonsense she likes."

"...Understood, sir. Anything else?"

"No. And Daz?" His voice dropped dangerously. "Not a word to anyone."

"Of course not, sir."

He hung up, and you couldn't help but notice the snail looked almost relieved as its features returned to normal.

You stared at him, stunned. "You just…canceled your morning for me?"

"Don't get used to it." He settled into the chair beside the bed, pulling out a stack of paperwork from seemingly nowhere. "I'll work from here. You stay in that bed, or so help me—"

"You do love me." You grinned, all dopey and congested.

He didn't look up from his documents. "Debatable at the moment."

"You're sitting with me."

"I'm supervising. There's a difference."

"You canceled meetings."

"I postponed them." He scribbled something with sharp, irritated strokes. "Temporarily."

You snuggled deeper into the blankets, watching him work. His brow furrowed in concentration, cigar smoke curling lazily upward, the scratch of pen on paper filling the comfortable silence. It was…nice. Domestic, even, in a way that seemed absolutely contradictory to everything Sir Crocodile represented to the outside world. Here he was, one of the most feared men in the criminal underworld, doing paperwork in a bedroom chair because his wife had a cold.

After a few minutes, you reached out and tugged gently on his coat sleeve.

He glanced over, eyebrow raised.

"Can you read to me?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Your documents. They're boring enough to put me to sleep." You gave him your most pitiful look. "Please?"

He stared at you like you'd just asked him to dance a jig. "You want me to read you…financial reports?"

"Mmhm. Your voice is nice."

"My voice is—" He stopped himself, looking physically pained. "You're delirious. That's what this is. Fever delirium."

"No fever," you countered smugly. "Just a cold, remember? You said so yourself."

He looked like he was reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this exact moment. Then, with the long-suffering sigh of a man who knows he's already lost, he cleared his throat. "Fine. But don't blame me when you're bored to tears." He lifted the first document. "Quarterly earnings report for the western trade routes. Revenue increased by fifteen percent compared to last quarter, primarily due to—"

You were smiling. He could see it even though you'd turned your face into the pillow.

"—reduced naval interference and optimized shipping schedules. However, operational costs have also risen by eight percent due to—are you even listening?"

"Mmhm. Keep going. S'nice."

He huffed but continued, his deep voice rumbling through facts and figures, and you felt yourself starting to drift. Somewhere around the part about "projected growth in the eastern sectors," your breathing evened out.

Crocodile noticed immediately. He stopped mid-sentence, watching your face go slack with sleep, and felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest. Sentiment. Disgusting.

He set the papers down quietly and stood, moving to your side of the bed. You'd kicked half the blankets off already—typical—so he pulled them back up, tucking them around you with more care than he'd ever admit to using. His hook brushed against your cheek, cool metal against warm skin, and you made a small noise in your sleep.

"Inconvenient," he muttered, but there was no heat in it.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He crossed the room in three strides, opening it just enough to see one of the newer subordinates holding a tray. The man looked absolutely terrified.

"S-Sir, the soup and tea you requested—"

Crocodile took the tray without a word. The subordinate seemed frozen, staring past him toward where you were sleeping.

"Is the lady alright? We heard she was—"

"Fine. She's fine." Crocodile's voice dropped to something dangerous. "And if I hear that anyone has been gossiping about my wife's condition, I'll personally ensure they regret having a tongue to wag. Understood?"

"Y-Yes sir! Understood, sir!"

"Good. Now get out."

The door closed with a quiet click. Crocodile set the tray on the bedside table, looking at the spread. They'd actually listened—the good soup, the herbal tea you liked, even some honey on the side. He'd have to remember whoever prepared this. Maybe not kill them during the next budget cut.

He settled back into his chair, paperwork forgotten. Instead, he just…watched. Your chest rising and falling, the occasional congested snore, the way your hand curled under your chin.

Pathetic, really.

That he'd been reduced to this. Canceling meetings. Reading financial reports like bedtime stories. Threatening subordinates over soup preparation.

His wife. His beautiful, stubborn, currently-ill wife.

About an hour later, you stirred. Your eyes cracked open, immediately finding him still sitting there, and you smiled—small and tired but genuine.

"You stayed."

"I said I would."

"Thought you might've been lying. To make me sleep."

"I don't lie to you, babydoll." He leaned forward, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a Sea Train," you admitted. "But better. Because you're here."

"Sentiment will get you nowhere."

"Got you to stay home, didn't it?"

He couldn't argue with that. Instead, he reached for the tea. "Drink. It's probably lukewarm by now, but it'll help."

You struggled to sit up, and he was there immediately, propping pillows behind you with an efficiency that would've been impressive if it wasn't so obviously practiced. You took the cup, wrapping both hands around it.

"You're good at this," you observed.

"At what?"

"Taking care of people."

"I'm not—" He stopped himself, looking uncomfortable. "I'm ensuring you recover quickly so you stop being a nuisance."

"Right. That's definitely it." You took a sip, and the warmth felt like heaven on your throat. "Thank you, Wani."

He grunted in response, but you caught the way his expression softened. Just a fraction. Just enough.

"If you tell anyone about this," he warned, "I'll deny everything."

"Your reputation is safe with me, dear." You coughed, then added, "Though I think Daz already knows you're soft for me."

"Daz knows to keep his mouth shut."

"Does he know you read me financial reports to help me sleep?"

"That was a one-time thing."

"Was it?" You gave him a knowing look over the rim of your cup. "Because I'll probably need help falling asleep again later. I'm very sick, you know. Might need several more readings."

He stared at you. You stared back, picture of innocence except for the mischievous glint in your fevered eyes.

"You," he said slowly, "are the most manipulative woman I've ever met."

"You married me."

"Clearly a lapse in judgment."

"Take it back."

"No."

You coughed pointedly.

He rolled his eyes. "You're also the most important person in my life and I'd burn the world down before I let anything happen to you. Happy?"

"Extremely." You beamed at him, then immediately ruined the moment by sneezing directly into your teacup.

Crocodile looked like he was contemplating murder.

"...I'll get you a new cup."

"My hero," you said, congested and completely sincere.

And despite everything—the ruined morning, the ridiculous situation, the fact that he was currently playing nurse to a woman who was absolutely milking this for all it was worth—Crocodile found himself almost smiling as he went to get fresh tea.

Almost.

Because Sir Crocodile definitely didn't do sick days.

But for you?

Well.

Maybe he could make an exception.

[mewnewew]

A father's smile - Shanks and his child

For my moot @moldychefboyardeecan, and for all during these chaotic and crazy times

You looked up from your writing as you heard the bell ring across the island. Smiling you got up, already understanding its meaning. Your dad had come home. You hurried down the stairs and out the door, running towards the nearby docks.

"Dad! Daaaad!" You called out, coming closer to the vast ship. Your eyes searched for a specific red head and you beamed as your eyes met the owner's.

"Hey Kiddo!" Without waiting for the plank to be dropped, Red-Haired Shanks jumped from the sides onto the dock, where he swung an arm around your shoulders, and you hugged him back. "Awww, I missed you so much. How're ya doing?"

Your dad was Red-Haired Shanks. Yes, the Red-Haired Shanks. He'd taken you in as his, actually, when he found out that the woman he had shacked up with a while ago, had gotten pregnant and chose not to tell him. She knew of your father's job, and the dangers that came with it. You were 4 when your mother passed away due to illness and her mother, your grandmother hunted him down the next time he was close by and told him. He'd immediately taken you in.

You'd grown up on ship and learnt useful skills on the ship, having many uncles who were more than pleased to have a young, curious child on deck. You had eaten, touched, seen, and heard different things that most grown men wouldn't even when they reached their senior ages. You grew up a cultured child if anything. But then when you were 9, you had been placed on this island. Upon asking your father why, he smiled sadly and patted your head promising that he would explain soon. Later you heard that he was fighting to help some of his friends and he didn't want to put you in the way of danger. This happened a bit more frequently till it became that half the year you would spend with him, and half the year on the island.

You had your own issues with him, of course. Like any other parent-child relationship, you huffed and dragged him away from the bottle when it became a little too much, and he had issues when you had self-esteem problems.

But neither of those fights got so bad as to threaten the relationship, at most, both sides would just distance themselves for a bit, before one side would go over and talk or make amends for the same.

Since he was so laidback, he didnt freak out as much when you were being chased by wild turtle boars, or fending off flying porcupine-type birds. That, was the job of Beckmann, and the rest of the crew, who would have throttled the man if not for ensuring you could handle the situation or that you got out of it. The crew and he ensured that you were at least able to take care of yourself in a fight, especially after discovering you could have a chance of using Haki. You ended up learning Armament Haki, and a healthy education on devil fruits and how to shoot a gun, and fight with a sword as well as bare handed.

Shanks himself cared when you would shut yourself in, and be much more quieter than usual, opting to at least stick a head in asking if you were wanting to be left alone or have a chat. Sometimes just leaving food he sneaked from the kitchen. Or just coming over and hanging out in your room, before starting an old song from his travels, waiting for you to open up or speak to him.

He was not perfect, like any other parent out in the four seas. However, you would fight anyone and anything, be it Doflamingo or the world government, for your father.

[mewnewew]

Sir Crocodile x Reader: How to have fun at a Gala

Yeah, hi, Im slowly getting back to writing. Modern AU! Think of Crocodile as a real estate mogul. This is for all the period girlies! (Hehehe, fantastic. Get it? Like fantastic f-)

"And you're sure I have to go?" you whined, exasperation clear in your tone. Crocodile and his wife had been invited to a Charity gala for Orphans, and you were not thrilled about going. Normally you wouldn't have an issue going. You supported the cause in fact. However...

"Quite sure. Now stop whining, darling," he answered, lighting his cigar.

"Ugh." You readjusted your hair for what felt like the umpteenth time tonight.

"Why do you hate this so much anyway? It's a quick event. Take a photo or two, drink a little, and then leave." he turned, meeting your eyes in front of the mirror where you stood, looking at your dress. You turned this way and that, frowning. The dress was pretty, but you had gotten your period the day before and were feeling... ugly. Normally, you wouldn't have come, but given that you were one of the people close to the organizers and that Crocodile would be able to discuss business, your attendance was somewhat expected. Thankfully, you had taken some painkillers for the pain, but still. You did not feel pretty and were slightly bloated.

"If you want, I can make excuses for you." He said, coming behind you, and bending slightly to drop his chin on your shoulder.

He was familiar with how your periods affected you, both physically and emotionally, and your work. He'd been his usual workaholic self, but had worked from home on some days, or had allowed you to sleep on his person as he worked since he ran warmer than you did.

You sighed, leaning backwards to rest some of your weight on him. "No. I worked for it. I'm good. Like you said. It'll be quick," you admitted quietly.

His hand came, and placed itself over your uterus, gently massaging small circles with his palm, and God did it felt good. You sighed audibly and let one of your hands go up to cup his cheek.

"You're still one of the most perfect things in my life," he murmured in your ear. Softly, but clearly. You quirked a smile and turned your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, lover."

🐊🐊🐊

"Lastly, I'd like to thank you all once again for coming and showing your support for these children."

You clapped your hands and raised your drink at one of your friends on stage as you caught their eye, smiling and silently toasting to their success for organizing this.

"Give me 10 minutes, sweetheart, I need to talk to someone and then we'll go, alright?" Crocodile whispered in your ear just then, and you nodded, watching as he walked away from you. You moved towards some of your friends as they talked together, and everything seemed fine for a bit. You listened to them, sipping on the champagne glass you had been carrying.

"Hello, miss?"

"Hm?" You turned and saw a man standing behind you. He was dressed impeccably, wearing a warm smile. He stretched out a hand, clearly wanting to shake yours.

You shook his hand, warily. You smiled politely and asked, "And you are-?"

"Ah! I'm George Philips. I saw you across the room and simply had to make your acquaintance, Miss....?" he leaned forwards slightly as he said this, and you got a whiff of his slightly too strong perfume.

"You "had" to? Why?" You asked, this time leaning a little backwards. Wow, this guy was weird. You ignored his question as well. Who knows if this guy was going to hurt Crocodile in any way?

"Why, you're the most ravishing thing I've seen all evening, Miss!" he waved his hands all over your frame as he said this, a sparkle in his eye. "The most beautiful being in this room, I deem it!"

"Oh, really?" You raised your eyebrows, repeating his words with a slightly exaggerated drawl. Okay, now you were having fun. "The 'Most beautiful being?'"

"Quite so! I must have a moment with you. Perhaps a drink alone after this Gala?"

"I'm afraid not. I have plans with my-"

"Hm? Your friend? Oh, come now miss, I'm sure I can ensure you have fun with me alone."

You scowled, getting ready to splash your drink at the man or possibly stabbing him yourself. "Listen pal-"

"I'm afraid she's taken, sir." Cut in a much deeper and much more familiar voice. You had to stop yourself from grinning too hard upon seeing the man's face pale. Oh, how you loved seeing that reaction.

"S-Sir Crocodile! I-I-I- I was waiting to make your acquaintance. I was just asking this young lady if- wait she's what-"

"My wife, now unfortunately we have arrangements to attend to for the latter part of the evening. Excuse us." As Crocodile started walking the pair of you away, you lightly flicked the coming writer's tray so that the champagne fell onto him and you smiled to yourself as you heard him cry out with shock.

*Sigh. "What am I to do with you my dear" your husband murmured as he waited for you to get in.

"Love me as you always have, silly." You giggled. Fuck the horrible feelings, you felt fantastic now.

"Not a bad idea, I suppose" He hummed, taking your hand in his. He was faintly smiling anyway, and so were you. What fun you had at the Gala!

[mewnewew]

Sir Crocodile x Gender Neutral!Reader: The First 'I love you.'

Hellooo, my life had taken a dive for the worst but ill never forget you all. Nor am I going to stop so hehew

🐊

Crocodile and you had been in a relationship for a few months now, nearing a year. You'd fucked, fought, had banter, went together as a couple when Crocodile had to make a social appearance for a Gala or something else and had some amount of trust in each other. (Note: some. This is Crocodile after all). Been cooed over, had photos taken of you two, even had your photos put on the pages of the newspaper occasionally.

However, neither of you had actually uttered the words, "I love you" to each other. It would not only mark a change in the relationship, but also act as a type of blazing sign to the pair of you that this was a thing, and both of you were now in it. You two were genuinely dating and saying those words would have the relationship either ending up in marriage (whether happily or not would be a different question) or eventually crash and burn, because of the differences you two shared.

You for one, could sometimes almost taste the words on your tongue. When he did things for you, like ensure your favorite perfumes would be ever filled. A new pair of shoes or outfits every other week. When you weren't steady in your head, and instead drunk off your ass, when he carried you to bed. But you never said it. Rather, you didn't know if you should. Would he accept it? The only reason you two were even together was because he while he did ask you, you weren't sure whether he'd stay if you said it. What if it was too fast for him? What if he would leave you instantly? You never knew. There was the occasional moment where you did end up guessing what was on his mind at times.

Funnily enough, the first 'I love you' was said by you. In the most calm of moments.

You jerked, sitting upright with a yell, sweat coating your body, heart thumping and eyes almost in tears. You'd just had a nightmare. You almost crawled back to the headboard, staring ahead as if trying to get away from the monster you had just left behind in your dreamscape. Feeling the mental image of it still seared on your eyeballs as if it was there in real life as well.

"-ey, Hey!" Something strong caught your hands and held your thighs together and your head swiveled for a second, as you thrashed to get free before your eyes landed on your partner, Crocodile, also sitting up and somewhere between mildly annoyed and concerned.

"It's me. Calm down. Nothing's there"

Your mouth opened and you blinked a few times, looking at where the 'monster' was just a few seconds ago. "I, It-" you stuttered, heart still beating too loudly in your chest, but slowing now. Sand now left you, letting limbs go free.

"It's okay." And he put his hand on your shoulder, the warmth from his palm soothing and heavy to the liquid chaos running in your body.

You didn't complain when that palm brought you to his chest, when both arms held you to him, his palm stroking you back still clothed with one of his old work shirts. You merely closed your eyes, and let yourself go limp, listening to the slower, heavier heart guarded by his ribcage. Feeling encased in the heat his body produced. He rested his chin on top of yours, and the both of you just sat there for a while.

"Thank you" you mumbled, softly. Too softly in fact that he shifted then position of his head, to look down at you. "Hmm?"

"I love you." And the both of you froze. Your eyes widened with shock and mild regret and you could feel his frame stiffening. You moved back, almost out of his hold now, torn between wanting to see his reaction and apologizing and taking it back. You stared into his face and his into yours.

You two stared back at each other for a few seconds. You with curiosity and mild wariness and him with his usual pokerface save for the raised eyebrows. Sighing, your hands balled into fists, head facing downwards. "I... I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't. I trust you." And your head snapped upwards with genuine surprise etched onto your face.

"What?"

"You heard me." He pulled you in once more, and leaned closer to put his face next to yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your eyes searching his violet. You weren't stupid, your boyfriend was ridiculously horrible at trusting people, and his track record was more than enough to prove that. This statement however? Was basically a confession of love. You knew that.

"You mean that?"

"I do." And with that he started kissing you tenderly.

Later on, you'd fall asleep with your face tucked under his, both of your bodies so close that it wouldn't be easy to find the start of one and the end of the other. You'd fall asleep to a very, impossibly soft voice that you wouldn't remember except when he proposed to you, a year later. You would hear it more clearly when he got up before you, or when you were on the borders of sleep and awakening. You would hear it before he passed on, and hear it again when you joined him in the next world.

"I love you."

[mewnewew]

Sir Crocodile x Chronically Ill!Reader pt.11

ANOTHER ONE

Tagged accounts: @tsumu-senpai @joyfulllittlething again, lemme know if any of yall wants to be tagged

pt.10

You grinned through the proceedings, feeling joyous at the ceremonies. Your cousin had gotten married and everything was going as it should have. Now was the time for the dancing and eating where some could go to the front and dance or stay and eat in peace. You were walking back to the hall, having finished arranging details with the driver when a hand caught yours, yanking you back.

"Wh- oh, Paul!" You groaned, midway between yelp.

"Yep, hello there. Didn't think I would forget would you?" He grinned back, wearing a suit.

Biting back a comment you gave him an exasperated smile. "Riiiiight, why don't you er....go to the hall? There's food set up and-" 

"Oh no, no, no! With all due respect to your family, I'm not here for them." With a deep breath, he got closer to you. "I'm here for you."

Ohhhh, you didn't like this. You did not like this situation. This was bad. Very very bad. You needed to get out here stat. Not because you couldn't handle him, but because you had a feeling. This would not end well if this continued. There would be a lot more drama which would occur if this continued.

"Paul, listen to me. I'm....pleased to see you here but you need to leave okay? Like right now" 

"What? No! I wanted to spend some time with you!"

You wrinkled your nose in disgust. "Why?"

He sighed and gave you a look. "I know that the last time we met, all those years ago, I screwed things up"

You paused. Oh no, please no, he was not going to-

"So, to make up for that" He leaned forward taking your hand in his. "I would like to start dating you again. I promise that this time will be perfect"

You opened your mouth, ready to yank your hand away when you saw it. The sand surrounding you both. Creating a small bubble moving to create a form behind you. A tiny wisp of soft sand caressed your cheek as it passed and joined the forming sand, revealing your unamused husband, Sir Crocodile. Who looked disgusted, and unhappy at the scene in front of him. A grin grew on your face. "I'm afraid that they're taken."

Paul dropped your hand, mouth dropping in shock as he scooted backwards. "C-Crocodile?! What- hey come away from him!" He beckoned to you looking absolutely petrified. 

You looked at him, taking a step backwards, closer to the comforting warmth of your husband. "Why? Last I checked, I'm married to him after all"

"You weren't joking?!" He screeched.

"I'm afraid not" confirmed your husband. His hook came forwards, placing the side of it against your hip, tip pointed upwards. You sighed, feeling slightly more relaxed.

"Now, could you leave my husband and I alone? We've got some private matters to discuss" You purred, loving the way that your ex tensed. However, he truly started to run when a cloud of sand engulfed him, lifting him, just to launch him into the pushed a little distance off.

You turned to him fully, then. "What are you doing here?" As far as you were aware, none of your family friends had sent an invitation to him owing to his absence due to work.

He cupped your cheek "I....missed you"

You groan, leaning into his hand. "I missed you too, but I did not miss our last conversation."

He laughed and you smiled more, leaning more toward him. "Ah yes, our last conversation. That was new, hmm?"

You close your eyes, sighing. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have said those things to you. Not so suddenly. Not at all"

You feel his hand travel to your nape before pushing you into his torso ".....hm"

You tilt your head up "Wanna continue this conversation somewhere else?"

An amused huff leaves him. "Yes. I've gotten some luggage delivered to your house but no one was home." 

You blink up at him "Oh. That's, cause of the wedding."

He raises an eyebrow. "Right, aren't you needed?"

You pause, looking down at your shoes "Not for an hour or two no"

"Well then" 

You look up, confused "......Well?"

"I'm your husband and a guest" He exhales. "I'm quite positive that you're supposed to give me a room for the night"

You laugh, maybe you were falling in love.

[mewnewew]

Sir Crocodile x Chronically Ill!Reader pt.10

I feel awful about not posting for so long ngl

Tagged accounts: @tsumu-senpai @joyfulllittlething again, lemme know if any of yall wants to be tagged

pt.9 pt.11

The entire day before the damn wedding you were feeling ready to murder everyone including yourself purely because you had a mild headache that wasn't going away and the next was you remembered every single thing you said to Crocodile.

Seas, you felt awful. What possessed you to say those things?! It made sense that you were aware of them but instead of normally just working around and into it and slowly letting him aware of it (if he wasn't already) you threw it in his face, like a bomb. You groaned, throwing back a glass of water, trying to forget the memories. And on top of that, you even called him defensive! If a time-time fruit could be found you wished you could eat it and go back in time to hide that snail away from your drunken self, awful taste and all.

For now, you have to deal with the last few preparations needed for the wedding tomorrow. The bride's dress was perfect save for the fact that she wanted some pockets at the side to hide her speech in, so you had sent it to the tailor's for altering. However, considering that your general group of helpers (nieces, nephews, uncles, aunts, cousins, and their significant others) were all already assigned to either run behind or help with something or the other. Meaning you had to go collect the now-altered dress. Oh well, you supposed that a trip to town would be refreshing. You needed to do quick checks on the preparations for the bachelorette party as well anyway.

Your family had a horse carriage as did most people on your island, so you used that to go to town. Walking into the tailor's shop, you were rummaging in your bag for the receipt.

"Where was it-oomph!" You stumbled into someone's chest. Both your bag and their dress fell onto the floor. The pair of you both immediately bent down to pick both items up already starting with apologies.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I-Paul?" You froze looking at the stranger.

"....It really is you. H-how've you been?" Stuttered your ex-boyfriend. 

Now yes, you had gone through relationships before Crocodile. Kind of helped with understanding him, honestly speaking. But Paul was the longest. He was the longest out of the few relationships you had, where the only reason it didn't work out was the fact that he was very......negative. The man was not in lack of self-respect, he was just never positive about things when it was just the two of you. It was as if he felt that he just had to be when it was just you two even if the situation did not ask for it. It was a problem, but he never put the negativity on you.....until one day when you were anyway quite peeved about the dosage of medicine you were prescribed and he grumbled about your personality. That's when you cut it off. 

Your friends were all supportive, anyway being quite disapproving of him, this just settled the situation in their eyes. But seeing him now was....a whole new experience given the last time you talked to him was 3 years ago. Things did not end well between you two, and you always got the feeling that even though he apologized profusely after that outburst he didn't really mean it.

"I've been fine, actually. Got married" You said, snapping yourself back to the present.

"Married?! To who?" He yelped.

"Sir Crocodile," You said quietly, a tone of satisfaction dipped in.

He looked at you for 5 whole seconds before bursting into laughter.

"Oh...you always did have a great sense of humor! Sir Crocodile, you say. Hahaha!" He bent over and a lick of anger raced up your spine.

In another part of your mind, your brain compared his and Crocodile's laughter. Oh, you did not like Paul's laughter at all. In fact, you kind of missed your husband's laughter.

He stood up again, a dopey grin on his face. "So what brings you back?"

"Cousin's wedding. I have to help plan it as per custom." You said disdain for the man evident in your tone.

"No kidding! Well, that must be a lot of work. You have a plus 1 to the wedding yet?"

You deflated slightly. "No, I was going to invite one of my friends."

"Wel,l I'm free. When's the wedding?" 

"Tomorrow, but-" You started. Like Hell, you would want your ex to come as your plus one.

"That settles it then!" He clapped a hand to your shoulder. "I'll be your plus one"

"Now wait a minute-"

Suddenly a ringing sound pierced the air, placing a hand in his pocket, he pulled out a snail. He lifted the receiver. "Yes?" His brow furrowed. "He did what?! On my way, hold on!" He snapped starting to leave.

As he left, he called back to you. "Don't worry I won't forget!"

Oh, what did you land yourself in, now?

+++x+++

Miles away, Crocodile was smoking a cigar looking at the wedding photo of you two, situated in the hallway between the casino and his office. He had been in a sullen mood for the entire day, your parents had sent it a few months after you were married, and as he gazed at you then, having a polite smile on your face, he had a sudden pang of loss. He missed you.

Looking at the clock he huffed and marched to his office where Nico Robin stood, holding a few documents. "Clear out my schedule till the week's end" He barked, grabbing the snail which you two used to communicate.

"Oh? Going somewhere?" Came her casual but alert reply.

He looked at her over his shoulder. "I'm going to go get my partner back."

[mewnewew]

Sir Crocodile x Chronically Ill!Reader pt. 9

Sorry for being dead, here's some more parts.

Tagged accounts: @tsumu-senpai @joyfulllittlething again, lemme know if any of yall wants to be tagged

pt.8 pt.10

"Hello~" You greeted in a sing-song voice

"Hello to you too. How was today?"

"Not bad, things are going well and the wedding itself is the day after. Tomorrow will be a hectic ordeal but I'm not too worried about it."

"That sounds good."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead"

"Your hook."

"What of it?" You could detect a slight tone of wariness.

"Why do you remove it before we sleep?" You and he both knew you weren't asking that, but rather how did he come to trust you so easily on it. However, even now there were times between the both of you where neither wanted to reveal things to the other without a preamble. There was trust, but not intimate-based trust. The kind of trust that both sides could revel in, the kind which made both sides feel comfort just by being in the other's presence and being relieved to leave things to the other, that trust was growing sure, but not at a level where this was visible to both sides and if keen-eyed people peered, could see as well.

"......You can't hurt me." Came the short reply. A reply which stung, and had something stutter painfully in your chest.

"Oh."

"If that's all, then I'll need to go. Something came up." He says curtly. Oh fuck, this did not go well.

"Listen-"

"Goodbye" and there's a click. You stare at the receiver for a few seconds as if expecting him to call again with a little, "Hello! That was a joke Ku-ha-ha-ha-ha" But to no avail. You huffed putting the receiver back and setting the snail on the bedside table before collapsing back onto the bed, staring up at the canopy.

+++×+++

Now, there has been some amount of bridging the gap between you two as mentioned before. In fact, all things considered, both of you have technically gotten much closer than you thought you'd ever get. But, once again there are some things that the two of you have never exactly brought up nor discussed. You've never talked to him regarding your mire depressive thoughts and you're pretty sure the man has the trust issues of a skittish deer. That is, really bad. You aren't even sure if Daz knows about Crocodile's past (and you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't) the fact that he knew enough about him to be aware of his birthday was big in your eyes if not hurtful that the man himself didn't tell you at all. 

This is why the idea of giving him space when he was angry had two reasons as you had told him, but there was one more. You genuinely didn't know how he would react. You had understood that somewhere on his mental board of people he interacted with, you weren't an enemy nor an acquaintance. At most you would guess that you were high, almost the level of "like", but you were pretty sure he just had Robin and Daz up there. Maybe his bananawanis as well (not that you would blame him. The man liked his reptiles) 

It's just....you wished he had maybe gotten to that level with you. You did like what you had now with him, but at what point would that become something more? Shit would you have to start at the beginning again with him? Would you even be given a chance with him? Considering his famous moods, you personally were doubtful. You rubbed your hand over your face, this seemed almost as stressful as the planning that you had to do for this blasted wedding (apologies to your cousin)

You turned onto your stomach, lifting your head to look again at the snail. Should you call him again? Would he pick it up? You groaned. Seriously, this was annoying and you were exhausted. Maybe you should drink, and take the edge off for a bit. It would help you take your mind off anyway.

4 glasses of wine which you kind of stole from your family's drinks cabinet while tiptoeing back and forth from your room and back you were at least toeing the line between being drunk and being tipsy. So you did the one thing you thought was best. Calling him.

"....Hello?"

"Crocodile! Baby!" You shrieked into the phone.

"Are you drunk?" Came the reply half annoyed half concerned.

"Not completely isse like line btween ' bein drunk n' tipsy" You crooned.

"You'll have a hangover in the morning. Just go to sleep now." Came his curt reply.

"Noooo, I still wanna talk to youu" You whined

He sighed, and you had a feeling he would be pinching the bridge of his nose right now at the situation. "Fine, let's talk."

"Yay! Now, are you mad at me?" 

"....Angry? Why would I be-"

"Cause, 'cause I asked you that question. N' you have issues, like trust issues. So are you?" You said quickly, bubbly-like.

"I have what-"

"Trust issues! Really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really-"

"Yes I understand, you can stop-" Mild irritation was now coating his tone

"Really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really-" You continued.

"I said you can stop-" 

"Really really really-" 

"STOP IT!" He snapped.

A yelp escaped you. Then you hiccuped. "Bad trust issues" You finished in a small voice.

He groaned slightly. "Look I'm not angry at you, per se. Okay? There I'm not mad at you."

You huffed. "I don't believe you"

He scoffed "Oh really? Why?" He said wryly.

"You, you're, ugh!"

"I'm what? Huh? What are you-"

"You're so defensive all the time!" You burst out.

A pause.

You frowned. "Helloooo, Crocodile? Are you still there?"

"Look. And listen to me now, don't interrupt me." He started, sounding moments away from actually losing his temper.

"Remember what I told you back then? 'I don't get angry at you' and I am not. Understand? The same goes for lying. I said I do not lie to you and I meant it."

Silence.

"Hello? Are you still on the call?"

A snore comes to his side from the receiver and he has to physically stop himself from launching the snail out the window. Good grief, what a spouse he had. Although, he didn't realize how perceptive they were nor how ridiculously blunt they got while drunk. Interesting. He looked at the receiver again, their snores coming slowly.

"Goodnight dear" He murmurs, putting the receiver back on the snail.