Hi, hi. My name is Mya and welcome to my little corner of peace. A little forewarning, I don't write any smut. Now, it's not that I don't like it, I just don't think I'd be very good at writing it. If you want to request for a certain character or fandom but don't see it on the Masterlist/Guide, feel free to still request them. I probably just haven't gotten around to adding them or writing about them yet. Enjoy your time here.🩷
hii I really love your writing and I just wanted to ask if you can do an L imagine/whichever thing you prefer with a positive and warm s/o? if no it's totally ok !
Headcanon: L Lawliet with a Positive and Warm S/O
L isn’t used to constant affection, so at first, he’d be a bit awkward with your warmth. But over time, he comes to crave your comforting presence.
He won’t admit it outright, but he finds your optimism soothing, especially when cases weigh heavily on his mind.
You remind him to take care of himself—bringing him snacks, forcing him to sleep, and even sneaking in forehead kisses when he’s too exhausted to protest.
When he’s overworking, you gently pull him away from his screen and hold his hands, telling him, “You’re doing enough.”
L doesn’t initiate physical affection often, but he never pulls away when you do. If you rest your head on his shoulder, he’ll freeze for a moment before relaxing into it.
He secretly enjoys it when you run your fingers through his messy hair. He won’t ask for it, but he leans into your touch like a sleepy cat.
If you kiss his cheek, he’ll blink at you with wide eyes like, What was that for? But he secretly enjoys it.
When he’s feeling particularly comfortable, he’ll let you curl up beside him while he works, resting his chin lightly on your head.
L is logical to a fault, but your positivity makes him see the world in a softer light. You challenge his cynicism with kindness, and sometimes, he actually listens.
He tries (and fails) to mimic your warmth, but his attempts are endearing—like awkwardly patting your head when you’re upset or handing you a strawberry as a ‘gift.’
He starts making subtle adjustments because of you—like sleeping a little more or eating proper meals (sometimes).
The task force notices he’s a bit more relaxed when you’re around. Watari, in particular, is relieved that L has someone to look after him.
L doesn’t get outwardly jealous, but he’ll quietly insert himself between you and anyone he deems suspiciously friendly.
He will 100% analyze and dig up info on anyone who flirts with you—not because he’s jealous, of course. Just… being cautious.
If you ever feel unsafe, his usual calm demeanor shifts into something dangerous. He will make sure whoever hurt you disappears from your life entirely.
You bring him sweets randomly throughout the day. He never asks, but he always eats them with a small, barely-there smile.
He lets you sit on his lap while he works, pretending it doesn’t affect him, but his ears turn red when you nuzzle into him.
He likes listening to you talk about anything and everything. He might not always respond, but he absorbs your words like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.
When he’s really tired, he’ll wrap his arms around you and just hold you in silence, letting himself relax completely for once.
Synopsis: After a brutal mission, Toji begrudgingly lets you tend to his wounds, pretending to be indifferent but secretly savoring your care.
The metallic scent of blood lingered in the air as the door creaked open, revealing the towering figure of Toji Fushiguro. His broad frame filled the entryway, casting a long shadow across the dimly lit room. A slow, steady trickle of crimson dripped from a gash above his brow, carving a sinister trail down his sharp cheekbones before disappearing into the curve of his jaw. His clothes, already tattered from the brutal mission, clung to his body, damp with sweat and blood.
You barely had time to process the sight before he muttered, "The hell are you lookin’ at?" His voice was as rough as ever, but there was a fatigue in his tone that betrayed just how much the fight had taken out of him.
You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you think, Toji? You’re bleeding all over the place."
"Yeah, well, it ain't the first time," he grumbled, kicking off his shoes and trudging inside. You heard the sharp inhale he tried to mask as he moved, a telltale sign that something hurt far more than he was letting on.
Rolling your eyes, you stepped toward him, gently grabbing his arm to steer him toward the bathroom. He flinched at first, a reflexive reaction, but ultimately let you guide him.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
"You're really not," you countered, pushing open the bathroom door and flicking on the light. It cast a harsh glow over his battered body, highlighting the deep bruises blooming across his skin, the angry cuts that marred his arms and torso. His shirt had been sliced open in multiple places, stained with dried and fresh blood alike. You grimaced.
Toji caught the expression and let out a low chuckle. "What, lookin' at me disgusts you now?"
You shot him a glare. "I'm looking at a man who doesn’t take care of himself and thinks he’s invincible. Sit down."
He grumbled something incoherent under his breath but complied, dropping onto the closed toilet lid with a heavy sigh. His muscles tensed as he rested his forearms on his knees, watching you with sharp dark eyes.
You turned to grab the first-aid kit from the cabinet, setting it down on the sink before wetting a washcloth. When you turned back, he was watching you, his gaze dark and unreadable.
"You gonna patch me up or just stand there starin’?"
You ignored his teasing and knelt before him, gently reaching for his face. He stiffened slightly as the damp cloth made contact with his brow, wiping away the streaks of blood. He hissed when you pressed a little too hard on the cut.
"Baby," you teased.
Toji scoffed. "Careful, sweetheart. Call me that again and I might start thinkin' you actually like me."
You smirked. "Oh no, whatever will I do?"
His lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile but refused to let it show. Typical Toji. He'd rather bite off his own tongue than admit he liked the attention you were giving him. But you saw the way he leaned into your touch, the way his eyelids drooped slightly as your fingers brushed against his skin.
As you continued cleaning his wounds, you let the silence settle between you. The only sounds were his slow, measured breaths and the occasional wince when you hit a particularly tender spot.
"This one needs stitches," you murmured, running a finger along a deep gash on his side. The flesh was torn open, likely from a blade. "What the hell were you fighting?"
"Some asshole," Toji muttered. "Ugly bastard with a sword. Didn't go down easy."
You shot him a look. "Clearly."
Grabbing the suture kit, you threaded the needle with practiced ease. Toji watched you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as you knelt between his legs, carefully stitching the wound on his side. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, his muscles tense with each pull of the needle.
"You've done this before," he noted.
"Had to learn," you replied, focusing on your work. "Being around you means patching up injuries is practically a weekly routine."
His chest rumbled with a low chuckle. "Guess I keep you busy, huh?"
You rolled your eyes. "You're lucky I care."
The words hung between you, heavier than you intended. Toji’s gaze flickered to yours, something unspoken passing through his eyes. He didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched in the smallest of smirks.
"Yeah," he muttered after a moment. "Guess I am."
You didn’t press for more. Pushing Toji for emotions was like trying to squeeze water from a rock—damn near impossible. But you knew him well enough to recognize when he was saying something without actually saying it.
Once the stitches were done, you cut the thread and pressed a bandage over the wound. "There," you murmured, running your fingers lightly over his side, checking for any other serious injuries. His stomach was taut under your touch, his body sculpted from years of combat.
You caught the way his breath hitched slightly when your fingers grazed his ribs, his muscles twitching.
"You ticklish, Fushiguro?" you teased.
He scoffed. "The hell kinda question is that?"
"You just flinched."
"From pain," he lied, shifting slightly.
You smirked, trailing your fingers lightly over the same spot. This time, he grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. "Quit it," he muttered, but there was no real bite to his tone.
You grinned. "Fine, fine. Baby."
Toji rolled his eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.
You finished bandaging the rest of his wounds, carefully wrapping gauze around his arms and chest where needed. The silence between you was different now—softer, more comfortable. Toji wasn’t a man of many words, but his presence spoke volumes.
When you finished, you sat back on your heels, looking him over. "You should rest," you said, standing and stretching. "No more fights for at least a few days."
Toji snorted. "Can't make any promises."
You shot him a look. "Toji."
He exhaled heavily, rolling his shoulders. "Fine. I'll take it easy. Happy?"
You nodded. "Very."
As you turned to put away the first-aid supplies, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you. When you glanced back, Toji was looking at you—not with his usual smirk or teasing glint, but with something else. Something quieter.
"...Thanks," he muttered.
Your eyes widened slightly. It was rare for him to express gratitude outright. You offered him a small smile. "Anytime."
Toji held your gaze for a moment before releasing your wrist, letting you go. As you left the bathroom, you swore you saw the faintest hint of warmth in his eyes, something deep and unspoken.
And even though he’d never admit it, you knew he secretly enjoyed the attention.
Synopsis: A shy, tech-savvy Support Course student constantly fixes Denki Kaminari’s fried gadgets after his quirk short-circuits them. Though she prefers solitude, Denki’s goofy charm and relentless optimism slowly break down her walls.
You sighed, rolling your chair back from the cluttered workbench as you surveyed the latest fried mess in front of you. A small puff of smoke curled from the ruined circuitry, and the unmistakable scent of burnt wires filled the air. Again.
“This is the third time this week,” you muttered under your breath, pushing up your glasses and rubbing your temples. “What does this guy do to his tech?”
You knew the answer, of course. Denki Kaminari had an unfortunate habit of overloading anything electronic within his reach. His quirk, Electrification, was both a gift and a curse—especially when it came to the various gadgets that were supposed to assist him in battle. The shock-absorbing wrist guards, the communication earpiece, even the prototype conductive gloves… none of them lasted long under his unpredictable bursts of voltage.
And yet, every time he came bounding into the Support Department, flashing that boyish grin and scratching the back of his head with an apologetic chuckle, you found yourself unable to turn him away.
You weren’t good at dealing with people. Your world revolved around technology, the hum of machinery, and the quiet solitude of working late into the night, tweaking and perfecting your designs. Socializing was… difficult. Words often got stuck in your throat, and you hated being the center of attention.
But Denki was different. He was loud, energetic, and impulsive—everything you were not. Yet, somehow, he never overwhelmed you. He had a way of easing into your space without making you feel uncomfortable, as if he belonged there, as if his chaotic energy could somehow find a way to mix with your quiet existence.
The sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway pulled you from your thoughts. Speak of the devil.
“Y/N!” Denki’s voice echoed down the corridor, and within seconds, he burst through the door to your workshop, panting slightly. “I, uh… I did it again.”
You slowly turned in your chair, already expecting to see the telltale sparks flickering from his gauntlets. Sure enough, wisps of smoke curled from the wrist guards, and his fingers twitched slightly as if still feeling the aftershock.
You sighed, crossing your arms. “What happened this time?”
Denki gave you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sooo, I was testing out a new move, right? But I guess I kinda underestimated how much juice I was putting out, and… well… poof.” He made an explosion gesture with his hands. “I think I short-circuited everything again.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Kaminari…”
“I know, I know! I’m hopeless, right?” He chuckled, plopping down onto the stool across from your workbench. “But that’s why I’ve got you, my favorite tech genius! You always fix me up.”
You felt your face heat up at the unexpected compliment, and you quickly turned back to your tools, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“I’m the only one willing to fix your stuff,” you corrected, though your voice lacked any real bite.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on the table as he watched you work. “Maybe. But I still think you’re amazing.”
Your hands faltered slightly as you reached for a screwdriver. You weren’t used to praise, especially from someone like him. It made your heart stutter in a way you didn’t quite understand.
Determined to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck, you focused on the task at hand. You carefully unscrewed the panel on his gauntlet, examining the damage. As expected, the internal wiring was fried beyond repair. You’d have to rebuild it from scratch.
“You really need to work on controlling your output,” you murmured, reaching for a replacement circuit board.
Denki huffed, sitting up. “Hey, it’s not that easy! My quirk isn’t exactly delicate, y’know?”
You gave him a sideways glance. “Then we’ll just have to find a way to make these more durable.”
His eyes lit up. “See? That’s why you’re the best! I knew you’d come up with something cool!”
You bit your lip, trying, and failing to suppress a small smile.
Over the next few weeks, Denki became a regular presence in your workshop. Whether or not he actually needed something fixed was debatable—sometimes, he just showed up to hang out, claiming he wanted to “supervise” your work.
At first, you found it distracting. Having someone so lively and talkative in your quiet space was unnerving. But as time went on, you realized something strange. You… didn’t mind his presence.
You even started looking forward to it.
He’d bring snacks, chatting about his training with Class 1-A, his latest shenanigans with his friends, or some ridiculous meme he’d found online. And, somehow, he always managed to make you laugh.
One evening, as you worked late on a new prototype, Denki was lounging on the couch in the corner of your workshop, absentmindedly tossing a screwdriver into the air and catching it.
“You know,” he mused, “I think you’re kinda like a secret superhero.”
You blinked at him. “What?”
He grinned. “Think about it! You work behind the scenes, making all this awesome tech for us heroes. Without you, we’d be totally screwed. That’s pretty badass.”
Your face felt warm again. “I… I wouldn’t call myself a hero.”
Denki sat up, tilting his head. “Why not?”
You hesitated, fiddling with a wire between your fingers. “I guess… I just don’t see myself that way. I don’t fight villains or save people like you guys do.”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Hey, heroes aren’t just the ones on the front lines. Every great hero needs support. And you? You’re incredible. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. You weren’t used to this—someone noticing you, someone seeing you.
Denki Kaminari was a storm of energy, unpredictable and wild, but he also had this uncanny ability to brighten even the darkest corners. And slowly, piece by piece, he was tearing down the walls you’d built around yourself.
You found yourself smiling—really smiling—as you turned back to your work.
“Thanks, Denki.”
His grin widened. “Anytime, Y/N.”
And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.
Characters: Cyno, Alhaitham, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Neuvillete
A/N: I decided to combine Wanderer and Scaramouche because as I started writing Wanderer, I realized I had the same idea exact idea them with only minor differences
Cyno – The Cursed Guardian of the Underworld (Hercules / Aladdin Hybrid)
A dark yet adventurous take on Hercules and Aladdin, where Cyno is a warrior who was once human but is now cursed to serve as the guardian of the underworld.
Once a revered warrior prince, Cyno made a fateful deal with the gods to save his people. The cost? His mortality. Now an eternal guardian of the underworld, he ensures lost souls pass safely while punishing those who defy fate. He is feared as a merciless executioner, but in reality, he still has his human emotions buried beneath his stoic mask.
One day, a daring scholar seeks forbidden knowledge about the afterlife and accidentally summons Cyno. Amused by her boldness, he allows her to live—on the condition that she helps him solve an ancient prophecy that could restore his humanity.
His humor is dry, and his jokes are often misinterpreted as terrifying omens.
Though he seems indifferent, he subtly ensures the heroine is safe, even shielding her from curses.
Cyno struggles between duty and his desire to reclaim his lost humanity.
When a corrupt deity tries to manipulate fate, Cyno defies divine law and fights for his freedom.
Alhaitham – The Reluctant Scholar Prince (Beauty and the Beast/Atlantis Hybrid)
A mix of Beauty and the Beast and Atlantis, where Alhaitham is a lost prince hidden within an ancient city of knowledge.
Alhaitham is the last prince of a forgotten kingdom, one that once thrived on intellect and progress but was lost to time due to a self-inflicted catastrophe. Unlike other royals, he cares little for grandeur—his true love is knowledge. For years, he has hidden away in a massive library-city, studying ancient texts and avoiding unnecessary interactions.
When an ambitious historian stumbles upon his domain, seeking the lost kingdom's secrets, she is met with his cold pragmatism. But the more time they spend together, the more she realizes his detachment is a defense mechanism—he has long believed that people are foolish and undeserving of knowledge, but her curiosity begins to change his view.
He doesn’t believe in fairy tales or destiny, only logic and reasoning.
Though he feigns disinterest, he secretly leaves books for the heroine and ensures her safety in the ruins.
He learns that knowledge without human connection is meaningless and chooses to help rebuild his lost kingdom.
When given the chance to remain in his isolated city or leave with the heroine, he hesitates—but ultimately follows her into the world.
Wanderer/Scaramouche – The Prince with No Past (The Hunchback of Notre Dame / Pinocchio Hybrid)
A Hunchback of Notre Dame meets Pinocchio story, where Wanderer is a prince without a past, struggling with his own existence.
Wanderer was created, not born—a prince fashioned from magic, meant to serve as a puppet ruler for an oppressive empire. However, he broke free from his creators and fled, wandering the world with no memories, no purpose, and a deep-seated resentment toward humans.
The heroine, a kind-hearted traveler, meets him in a city where he hides under a false identity. She is drawn to his cold demeanor, sensing a loneliness behind his sharp words. He refuses to trust her at first, believing humans only use and discard people like him. But as they travel together, she teaches him that self-worth isn't determined by one's origins.
He constantly pushes others away, fearing betrayal.
Though he refuses to admit it, he enjoys the heroine’s company.
He questions whether he has a soul or if he is just a forgotten experiment.
In the final battle, he is given a choice—to abandon humanity forever or fight to protect those who finally accepted him. He chooses to fight.
Neuvillette – The Prince of the Tides (The Little Mermaid/Frozen Hybrid)
A Little Mermaid and Frozen blend, where Neuvillette is an enigmatic sea prince who governs the balance between land and ocean.
Neuvillette is the ruler of an oceanic kingdom, a being who holds the power to summon the rain and command the tides. He appears stoic and distant, burdened by centuries of responsibility. Legends say he is not truly human, but a creature born from the sea itself.
One day, a young noblewoman ventures to his realm, desperate to stop a drought that threatens her people. She expects to find a heartless god but instead meets a man who speaks little yet holds the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He often stares out at the horizon, lost in thought.
Though he feels deeply, he has long accepted that humans fear him.
He struggles with balancing justice, knowing that helping one side of the world often harms another.
When the heroine offers him a chance to walk among humans, he hesitates—until he realizes he longs for companionship more than he fears rejection.
Hi there, I vaguely remember sending a request yesterday (?) About Eustass Kid, if it made no sense or violated any of your rules/what you are comfortable writing, I apologise, I was high on pain meds, and my judgement was a little fuzzy to say the least 😅
Hi, yeah, I got it and you're fine 😂😂 I hope you recover quickly 🩷
Synopsis: Choso tries pizza and watches Mean Girls with you, slowly embracing human life and realizing he enjoys it—especially with you.
Choso had always lived on the fringes of humanity, both physically and emotionally. His existence had been one of blood, vengeance, and an unwavering commitment to his brothers. But ever since he met you, things had begun to shift. You had this way of pulling him into the world of humans, making him experience things he had never thought to indulge in before.
At first, he resisted. What did the human world have to offer him besides pain and loss? But you were persistent, your kindness unwavering. You took his hand—sometimes literally—and guided him through simple joys, introducing him to what you called “the good parts of life.”
And that was how Choso Kamo found himself sitting on your couch, a large box of pizza resting between you two, while the opening credits of Mean Girls played on the TV screen.
"What's this?"
Choso eyed the box with suspicion. You had hyped up pizza all day, your excitement contagious, and while he didn’t understand why a flat piece of bread covered in cheese and tomato sauce was such a big deal, he trusted you enough to give it a try.
“It’s pizza,” you said, lifting the lid and revealing the steaming, cheesy goodness inside. “One of the best human inventions ever.”
Choso narrowed his eyes. “Better than the wheel?”
You laughed, handing him a slice. “Okay, maybe not that important. But still, it’s up there.”
He took the slice hesitantly, observing the way the cheese stretched as he pulled it from the box. It was warm in his hands, slightly greasy, and the smell alone was unlike anything he’d experienced before.
He bit into it cautiously, his brows furrowing in concentration as he chewed. The dough was soft yet crispy, the sauce tangy, and the cheese rich.
“Well?” you prompted, watching him eagerly.
Choso swallowed, licking a bit of sauce off his lip before nodding. “It’s good.”
“Just ‘good’?” you teased. “Come on, be honest.”
His eyes flicked to yours, then back to the pizza. “...It’s really good,” he admitted begrudgingly before taking another bite.
You beamed. “Told you!”
As he ate, you explained the different kinds of pizza—New York-style, deep dish, margherita, even pineapple pizza, which earned a confused look from him.
“You humans have so many unnecessary variations,” he mused, finishing his first slice and reaching for another.
“Says the guy who controls blood in a hundred different ways,” you shot back playfully.
Choso smirked slightly at that, shaking his head as he took another bite. Maybe human food wasn’t so bad after all.
With the pizza mostly gone, you settled back against the couch, pulling a blanket over your legs. Choso sat beside you, his posture still a little stiff, but you noticed how he had relaxed compared to when you first started doing these little “human world introductions.”
Tonight’s agenda? Watching Mean Girls.
“So, this is a… cultural staple?” Choso asked as the movie began, eyeing the screen with mild suspicion.
“Oh, absolutely,” you said. “This movie defined a whole generation.”
As the story unfolded, Choso remained silent, his focus entirely on the screen. You watched as his expressions shifted—confusion when Cady first entered high school, mild amusement at Damian and Janis, and visible disgust at Regina George’s manipulations.
“This Regina person is a menace,” he muttered halfway through, frowning as she sabotaged Cady.
You laughed. “That’s the point! She’s the mean girl.”
Choso shook his head. “If she were a curse, I would’ve exorcised her by now.”
The mental image made you burst out laughing, and Choso’s lips quirked up slightly at the sound. He liked making you laugh, even if he didn’t always understand human humor.
As the movie went on, he had more questions:
“Why do they care so much about this ‘Burn Book’?”
“What’s the purpose of wearing pink on Wednesdays?”
“Why is this coach so terrible at his job?”
By the time the infamous talent show scene rolled around, Choso was staring at the screen in complete disbelief.
“This is the most chaotic thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, watching as Cady and the others sang Jingle Bell Rock.
“Oh, just wait,” you said, grinning.
Sure enough, the CD skipped, Gretchen kicked the stereo, and the whole performance spiraled into hilarious disaster. Choso exhaled sharply through his nose—his version of a laugh—and shook his head.
“Humans are strange,” he said, watching the screen as the movie continued. “But… entertaining.”
You nudged his shoulder playfully. “See? I told you you’d like it.”
Choso didn’t respond immediately, but after a moment, he hummed in agreement. He would never fully understand the human world, but sitting here with you, eating pizza and watching this ridiculous movie… it wasn’t so bad.
By the time the credits rolled, Choso had finished off the last slice of pizza, and you had curled up against his side, warm and comfortable. He was stiff at first, unsure of what to do, but eventually, he let his arm rest along the back of the couch, allowing you to stay close.
“So,” you said sleepily, tilting your head up to look at him. “What’s the verdict? Did you survive a night of human culture?”
Choso exhaled softly, his gaze drifting from the now-black TV screen to you. The dim lighting of the room cast a soft glow on your face, and he found himself studying the way your features relaxed, how at ease you looked around him.
It was strange. He had spent most of his existence surrounded by death and vengeance, yet here you were, showing him the quiet beauty of a life he had never known.
He thought about the pizza, the movie, the way you laughed without restraint, how you never seemed to fear him.
He thought about how, despite everything, he felt… safe here.
“I could get used to this,” he admitted, his voice quiet but sure.
You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Good. Because I have so many more movies to show you.”
Choso sighed, shaking his head. “Of course you do.”
Synopsis: You constantly throw yourself into danger, forcing Law to scold you while secretly worrying. No matter how much he warns you, you won’t stop, and it drives him insane.
The first time Law realized how reckless you could be, he brushed it off as a simple mistake. The second time, he figured it was a lapse in judgment. The third, fourth, and fifth times? Well, those made it clear: you were a danger magnet with a stubborn streak that rivaled even Luffy’s.
And it drove him insane.
The Heart Pirates had docked at a small, relatively peaceful island for supplies, a rare moment of rest in their usual hectic lives. Law had given strict instructions to avoid unnecessary conflict, something he emphasized especially to you. Not because he didn’t think you could handle yourself—you were strong, capable, and quick-witted. No, the problem was that you had no self-preservation instinct whatsoever.
So, when you came back covered in scrapes, a fresh gash running along your arm, and a smug grin on your face, Law immediately knew something was wrong.
“What the hell did you do?” His voice was sharp, eyes narrowing as he scanned your injuries.
You shrugged. “Nothing much. Just ran into a few bounty hunters. They were looking for an easy target, but they got more than they bargained for.”
Law inhaled deeply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “I told you not to cause trouble.”
You scoffed, brushing past him toward the Polar Tang. “I didn’t cause trouble; I finished it.”
He grabbed your wrist before you could go any further, pulling you back with a force that made your breath hitch. His grip was firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point. “And if they had been stronger?” His voice was lower now, a dangerous edge lacing his words. “If you had been outnumbered? Do you even think before you act?”
You frowned, but there was no real remorse in your expression. “I knew I could handle them.”
Law clenched his jaw, his golden eyes scanning your face for any sign that you understood the gravity of your actions. But you were as frustrating as ever, brushing it off like it was nothing. With an exasperated sigh, he dragged you into the submarine’s infirmary, practically shoving you onto the examination table.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered, gathering medical supplies.
You swung your legs idly. “You worry too much.”
He shot you a glare that could freeze magma. “Someone has to.”
You smirked. “So you admit you worry about me?”
His hands paused for the briefest moment before continuing to disinfect your wound. “I worry about my crew. You just happen to be the biggest headache.”
You chuckled, but he didn’t find anything amusing about the situation. His fingers were careful yet firm as he wrapped the bandage around your arm.
“This isn’t a game, Y/N,” he said, voice quieter now, more controlled. “One mistake, one miscalculation, and you could be dead.”
Your smirk faded slightly at his tone, and for a moment, the weight of his concern settled between you. But then you shrugged again, leaning back on your hands. “It’s not like I’m trying to get hurt, you know.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” he muttered, finishing up.
Despite his irritation, his touch lingered for a second longer than necessary before he pulled away, tossing the leftover gauze onto the counter. You watched him carefully, catching the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
Maybe you weren’t completely oblivious to how much he cared.
The next time you threw yourself into danger, it was even worse.
The crew had been ambushed on an island notorious for its corrupt underground dealings. Law had ordered everyone to stick together, but you, being the reckless force of nature you were, had charged ahead to take on an enemy that outnumbered you five to one.
By the time Law reached you, his heart was hammering against his ribs, panic rising in his throat at the sight of you struggling against a particularly large opponent. You were holding your own, but you were already bleeding, and that was unacceptable.
“Room.”
In a blink, your opponent’s arm was severed, sending him collapsing to the ground. Law stood behind you, his expression dark with barely contained fury. The remaining enemies hesitated before retreating, recognizing the Surgeon of Death for the danger he was.
You turned to him, wiping the blood from your cheek. “Took you long enough.”
Law didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The storm in his eyes said everything.
The moment you stepped onto the Polar Tang, he lost it.
“Are you insane?” His voice was louder than you’d ever heard it, his usual composed demeanor completely shattered. “Do you have any sense of self-preservation at all?”
You winced, rolling your shoulder. “I had it under control.”
“Under control?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You were bleeding out in the middle of a battlefield.”
You crossed your arms. “I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not the point!” He ran a hand down his face, trying to ground himself, but the frustration was too much. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N. You can’t just throw yourself into danger and expect to walk away unscathed every time.”
You exhaled, glancing away. “I don’t— I don’t do it on purpose.”
Law studied you for a long moment, his sharp gaze searching yours. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, his voice softened. “Then why?”
You hesitated. “Because I can’t just stand by when my friends are in danger. If I have the power to help, I will.”
His expression flickered, something unreadable crossing his features. He understood that feeling more than anyone. He had spent his entire life trying to protect those he cared about, even at the cost of himself. But you—
You were different. You were reckless, yes, but it wasn’t just about protecting others. You threw yourself into danger with no regard for your own well-being, and that scared him more than he was willing to admit.
Law sighed, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth of his presence. “You’re not alone,” he said, quieter now, almost hesitant. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself.”
Your eyes widened slightly at his words, at the rare moment of gentleness from the ever-cynical captain.
Before you could respond, he turned away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Just… stop making me worry so damn much.”
A small smile tugged at your lips. “So you admit you worry about me.”
“Shut up.”
You laughed, and for the first time, Law didn’t try to fight the small smirk pulling at his own lips.
The pattern continued, no matter how many times he scolded you. No matter how much he reminded you that you didn’t have to throw yourself into every fight. But there was something unshakable in you, a fire that refused to be dimmed.
And Law, despite his frustration, couldn’t help but admire that about you.
Hey 👋🏽 first off, I’m super grateful for that hooves request you did for me last year :> Second, I was wondering if we could have some headcanons for Iida with a friend who’s almost his complete opposite?
Nature based quirk, very carefree stick-it-to-the-man wild child, and grew up in a more rural area in a working class family. And yet somehow when they meet at UA (reader is in general studies) they just click despite being so different.
thank you 🌿🍄
Headcanon: Iida with a Best Friend That's his Opposite
A/N: I enjoyed this a lot
When they first meet, Iida doesn’t quite know what to make of them. They’re everything he’s not—messy, wild, completely unbothered by rules, and always ready to challenge authority. Meanwhile, he’s rigid, disciplined, and deeply respectful of structure.
They bump into each other (probably literally) in the hallways of UA, where Iida is of course lecturing someone about school rules, and his soon-to-be-best-friend is in the middle of breaking about five of them.
“You’re not supposed to be here during class hours!”
“Yeah, and you’re not supposed to be this uptight. Guess we both got problems, huh?”
They expect him to be just another stuck-up, holier-than-thou hero student, but instead of writing them off completely, Iida actually takes the time to understand why they’re the way they are.
Iida thrives in structure and rules, while his best friend is all about breaking them. Despite that, they manage to balance each other out in the weirdest way.
Iida wakes up at the crack of dawn, follows a strict schedule, and sticks to a routine. His friend, on the other hand, wakes up whenever, goes with the flow, and somehow never actually gets in trouble for slacking off (too much).
The one thing they have in common? Loyalty. They may approach life differently, but they’ll throw hands for each other without hesitation.
His friend has a nature-based quirk, which makes them fluid, adaptable, and unpredictable—pretty much the opposite of Iida’s straightforward, high-speed combat style.
While Iida relies on calculated movements and precision, his friend is all about improvisation. They never fight the same way twice, using vines, roots, or even just the terrain to their advantage.
Their sparring sessions are hilarious to watch. Iida is trying to keep it structured, running drills and focusing on form, while his friend is like, “Nah, man, just feel it.”
Iida tries (and fails) to make them follow the rules. He’s constantly reminding them to wear the proper UA uniform; "Button up your shirt! And where are your shoes?! You must wear the appropriate footwear!", but at some point, he just gives up and lets them be.
In return, his friend drags him into things he never would’ve done otherwise—sneaking out onto the school rooftop, climbing trees instead of using the stairs, and pulling pranks on some of the stricter teachers (though, let’s be real, Iida does not approve of that last one).
He, in turn, teaches them the value of discipline. They start to begrudgingly respect his work ethic, and while they’ll never be as structured as him, they do try a little harder with their studies (even if they act like it’s just to get him off their back).
Iida is, of course, the ultimate mom friend. He reminds them to eat proper meals, scolds them for reckless behavior, and always has a first-aid kit ready.
Meanwhile, they’re the type to drag Iida into stupid situations just to “loosen him up.” "You don’t have to be responsible 24/7, man. Live a little.”
If they ever get injured doing something dumb, Iida has so many words for them—but underneath it all, he’s genuinely worried.
On the flip side, when Iida gets too worked up (which happens often), his friend is the first one to pull him out of his own head. “Dude. Breathe. The world’s not gonna end if you take a break for five minutes.”
Iida will definitely drop everything and sprint to their side if they’re in danger.
Even though they act like they don’t care about authority, Iida is their authority. If he tells them something is a bad idea, they actually listen (most of the time).
Their loyalty to each other is unshakable. If someone disrespects Iida, his friend is already ready to throw hands. "Only I get to call him uptight. You? You can shut up.”
If Iida ever has doubts about himself as a hero, they’re the first to remind him that he’s more than just rules and discipline—that he’s kind, determined, and genuinely cares about people.
So there is a lot i wanted for these characters: I would like to request a Diluc, Razor, Xiao, Kazuha, Cyno, Al Haitham, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Freminet, Lyney, Kinich, Ororon, Dainsleif x reader (seperate (Ik this is a lot 🥲)) a headcanon of them what it would be like if they were in Disney movies (basically Disney Princes) you can make parts of this to make it easier and take a break
part 1 - Diluc, Razor, Xiao, Kazuha
part 2 - Cyno, Al Haitham, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Neuvillette
part 3 - Wriothesley, Freminet, Lyney
part 4 - Kinich, Ororon, Dainsleif
Have a nice day and Happy Lunar New Year!
Headcanon: If They Were in a Disney Movie
A/N: I'm sooooo sorry this took so long and a very happy super delayed lantern rite to you as well.😅 I was actually thinking of doing something like this anyways (I'm a HUGE Disney fan) but couldn't really figure it out, so thank you for this.😁 Hopefully you enjoy this.🩷 ALSO, do you want Wanderer or Scaramouche or both?
Diluc – The Dark Prince of a Fallen Kingdom (Beauty and the Beast/Sleeping Beauty Hybrid)
A dark fantasy romance similar to Beauty and the Beast mixed with Sleeping Beauty, where Diluc plays a brooding yet noble prince fighting against the curse placed on his kingdom.
Diluc was once a beloved prince, known for his warm heart and unwavering sense of justice. However, after his father, the king, was betrayed and assassinated, Diluc turned cold and distant. Consumed by grief and a thirst for vengeance, he abandoned the throne and disappeared into the depths of his family's grand but now abandoned castle. Rumors spread that a curse had befallen him—one that made his soul as fiery as the flames that once protected his home.
The kingdom fell into despair, overtaken by darkness, while Diluc became an elusive, near-mythical figure. The heroine stumbles upon his castle, seeking shelter or answers. At first, Diluc is cold and distant, but as they spend time together, she begins to see past his bitterness.
Wounded by betrayal, he carries a heavy burden of guilt and self-doubt. He isolates himself, believing he failed his father and kingdom.
Despite his cold demeanor, he secretly cares deeply. He feeds birds in the garden at night, fixes broken items around the castle, and ensures the heroine is safe, even if he won’t admit it.
The heroine teaches him that he is not defined by his past, and he eventually finds the strength to fight for his kingdom again.
In the final act, he rises from his exile, wielding a sword imbued with flames, leading a resistance against the tyrant who took over his homeland.
Razor – The Wild Prince of the Forest (Tarzan / The Jungle Book Hybrid)
A Tarzan-inspired story where Razor, raised by wolves, must choose between his primal world and the human civilization that threatens it.
Razor was abandoned as a baby deep within a vast, enchanted forest. Raised by a pack of mystical wolves, he grew up learning their ways, speaking their language, and understanding the balance of nature. He is the unofficial "Prince of the Wild," guarding the forest from outsiders who seek to exploit its magic.
When the heroine—an adventurous noblewoman or explorer—enters the forest in search of a rumored lost city, she encounters Razor. Their worlds collide as she introduces him to human customs, and he, in turn, teaches her the beauty of the wild.
Razor is fiercely protective of those he loves. He doesn’t trust humans easily but will fight for those who prove themselves.
He is fascinated by the outside world, especially the concept of family and home, yet fears losing his identity.
When greedy hunters threaten the forest, Razor must decide whether to stay hidden or fight back.
In the end, he blends both worlds—becoming the bridge between nature and humanity.
Xiao – The Cursed Guardian of the Mountains (Mulan /Hunchback of Notre Dame Hybrid)
A Mulan-inspired tale with elements of Hunchback of Notre Dame, where Xiao is a guardian cursed to protect his land forever.
Once a noble warrior blessed by the gods, Xiao was tasked with defending a sacred mountain kingdom. However, after a great war, he was cursed to wander the land as an immortal guardian, bound by duty and unable to rest. Many fear him, calling him a vengeful spirit or demon, though he is simply a lonely protector.
The heroine, a warrior or pilgrim seeking knowledge, meets Xiao after unknowingly trespassing on his domain. Though he initially warns her away, fate continues to intertwine their paths, and she learns the truth behind his sorrow.
Xiao acts distant and formal, but his concern for others is immense. He watches over villages from afar and eliminates threats in silence.
He carries guilt from a past battle, believing he is unworthy of peace.
He struggles with emotions, unused to kindness or attachment. The heroine's presence challenges his beliefs.
By learning to forgive himself, he finally lifts the burden of his immortality, choosing to protect his people not out of duty but love.
Kazuha – The Wandering Prince of the Sea (Pocahontas/Moana Hybrid)
A Pocahontas-esque story with elements of Moana, where Kazuha is a prince without a kingdom, forever sailing the seas in search of a new home.
Kazuha was once the heir to a peaceful island nation, but after a terrible storm and political betrayal, his people were forced to flee. Now a wandering prince, he sails the endless seas, searching for a new land where his people can live freely.
One day, he encounters the heroine, a curious and adventurous young woman who longs to see the world beyond her shores. Drawn to his poetic nature and the sorrow in his eyes, she joins him on his journey, learning the beauty and hardships of a life adrift.
Kazuha sees beauty in everything, writing poetry about the wind, the waves, and the stars.
He carries the weight of his lost home but refuses to let bitterness take root.
No storm can break his spirit—he adapts, survives, and continues to hope.
In the end, he realizes home is not a place but the people he loves, choosing to settle with the heroine and his people in a newfound land.
If you’re still taking requests, could you maybe do one about Nanami building up the courage to ask someone out? I’ve had this little head cannon that he might ask Ino about it while they’re out drinking.
Thank you so much ❤️❤️
A Calculated Risk
A/N: Thank youu, I'm so glad you enjoy my writing, hopefully you enjoy this too🩷
Kento Nanami was a man of routine. He believed in order, efficiency, and the path of least resistance. Life was already a mess in the world of jujutsu, and the last thing he needed was emotional turmoil. Or so he told himself.
Yet, here he was—lingering outside your office at Jujutsu High, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in his crisp dress shirt, wondering for the twentieth time today if he should finally just ask you out.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. He had. Too much, perhaps. It had become a persistent distraction—one that gnawed at the back of his mind even during missions. The way you always greeted him with that bright, genuine smile, the way you never seemed intimidated by his stern demeanor. You were kind but not naive, strong but not reckless. Nanami found himself drawn to you in a way that felt dangerous.
And he hated things that were dangerous.
“Nanami?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he nearly cursed under his breath. You stood there, head tilted slightly, a curious smile tugging at your lips. “You’ve been standing there for a while. Did you need something?”
He could lie. Say he was simply passing by. But you were perceptive—he knew you wouldn’t buy it.
“…No, it’s nothing important,” he said, adjusting his tie. “Have a good evening.”
And with that, he walked away, missing the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly in confusion.
Later that night, Nanami found himself in an unexpected place: a bar with Ino.
“So, Nanami, why do you look like you’re about to have an existential crisis?” Ino asked, nursing his beer.
Nanami exhaled, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. “I do not look like I’m having an existential crisis.”
“You kinda do.”
Silence.
“…It’s about a woman, isn’t it?” Ino grinned. “Oh man, I knew it! You’ve been all weird lately.”
Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I say yes, will you lower your voice?”
“Absolutely not.”
Nanami sighed, debating if he should even be having this conversation. But Ino was already leaning in, grinning like he had just won the lottery.
“…There is someone,” Nanami admitted, his fingers tightening around his glass. “I have been considering asking her out.”
Ino nearly choked on his drink. “YOU?! Asking someone out?! I thought you were married to your job!”
“That is precisely the problem,” Nanami muttered. “I do not have time for frivolous relationships, and yet… I cannot seem to ignore these feelings.”
Ino smirked. “So? What’s stopping you?”
Nanami hesitated. That was the real question, wasn’t it? What was stopping him? He wasn’t afraid of rejection—not in the conventional sense. He could handle rejection. It was the idea of it—the idea that you might not feel the same, that it could make things awkward, that he could lose the rare peace he felt in your presence.
“I don’t want to disrupt the dynamic,” he admitted. “Things are… comfortable as they are.”
“Yeah, but are you happy?” Ino asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you don’t seem like the type to settle for ‘comfortable.’”
Nanami blinked, staring at his drink.
Happy? Was he happy?
“Look,” Ino continued, setting his glass down with a thud, “you’re Kento Freaking Nanami. You’re one of the strongest sorcerers out there. If you can take on Curses without flinching, you can definitely ask out someone you like.”
Nanami let out a small chuckle—something rare enough to make Ino do a double take.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Nanami murmured.
“I know I’m right.” Ino grinned. “Now go sweep her off her feet, Mr. Salaryman.”
Nanami sighed, finishing his drink. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would do it.
The next morning, Nanami waited for you outside the training grounds. It was early, the sky still tinged with the soft hues of sunrise.
When you finally arrived, you smiled up at him. “Nanami-san? You’re here early.”
He took a breath. It was now or never.
“I was wondering,” he began, carefully choosing his words, “if you would be interested in having dinner with me sometime. Outside of work.”
You blinked. Then, slowly, your lips curved into a smile.
“I’d love to.”
And just like that, Nanami felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, some risks were worth taking.
Hey! Could I request headcanons for Bakugou, Kirishima, Midoriya and Kaminari with a reader that is secretly good at singing but is kinda quiet about it. They usually just hum along to songs, the only time they sing is when their alone or if their with their friends so they can all harmonize together (they go into full on performance mode when that happens). Their secret does eventually gets out however. Thank you in advance!
Headcanon: S/O is Secretly Good at Singing
Katsuki Bakugou
At first, Bakugou doesn’t notice because you're always so quiet about it. But he starts catching you humming under your breath during training or while doing homework, and it piques his interest.
One day, he accidentally overhears you singing in an empty classroom when you think no one’s around. He’s completely stunned but pretends he wasn’t listening to avoid embarrassing you.
When your secret eventually gets out, Bakugou acts all nonchalant like, “Tch, I already knew.” But deep down, he’s proud and lowkey loves bragging about how talented you are.
If anyone tries to make fun of you or tease you about it, he’s ready to blow them up. No one disrespects his singer.
He’s secretly obsessed with hearing you sing, so he’ll play your favorite songs around you just to trick you into humming or singing along.
Eijiro Kirishima
Kirishima’s super supportive and encouraging when he finds out. “Bro! That’s so manly! Why didn’t you tell me?!”
He’s the type to hype you up and literally beg you to sing more often. “C’mon, do it for me! Please? Just one song!”
When you perform with your friends, he’s front row, recording everything and screaming louder than anyone.
If you’re shy or embarrassed, he’s got your back. He’ll remind you how amazing you are and how much everyone loves your voice.
He loves the idea of doing little duets with you, even though his singing is... passionate but not exactly in tune. But hey, he tries.
Izuku Midoriya
Midoriya is absolutely in awe when he discovers your talent. He’s the type to get super emotional and ramble about how incredible you are.
“You’ve been hiding this this whole time?! That’s amazing! You’re amazing!”
He’s genuinely curious about your musical journey and asks about your favorite artists, genres, and what inspired you to sing.
When your secret gets out, he’s both nervous and excited for you. He’ll always be there to support you and cheer you on, whether you’re performing or just vibing with friends.
He starts suggesting songs for you to try and would probably make playlists that match your vibe.
Denki Kaminari
Kaminari’s reaction is the most chaotic. He literally short-circuits when he hears you sing for the first time. “HOLY CRAP, DUDE. WHY HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING THIS FROM US?!”
He immediately tries to get you to join his band or start a music channel with him. He’s all about those collabs.
When your secret gets out, he makes sure everyone knows how cool and talented you are. He’s like your personal hype man.
Kaminari loves harmonizing with you and turning casual jam sessions into full-blown concerts.
He 100% tries to convince you to sing karaoke with him at every party.
Thank you for answering my request!.. Could I also please have a part two with the Captains of Squad 1-5 (Yamamoto, Soi Fon, Gin, Unohara, and Aizen) meeting the Soul Reaper with the potent hallucinations that can even affect the blind?
(I have a feeling that Aizen would take a LOT of interest in her (since she can do something that even his Kyoka Suigetsu can’t do (affect the blind) and be a MASSIVE secret chaser towards her.)
(Her real name is Mirai Rosso btw)
Headcanon: Meeting Mysterious Soul Reaper Pt.2
A/N: So sorry for the loooooong wait. I was sick, my laptop broke, and above all of that, I was worried about midterms
Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto
As the first Captain, Yamamoto immediately demands her identity. Long-term missions are rare, and a Soul Reaper with such unique powers who remains completely anonymous is highly suspicious. He’s not one to tolerate secrecy.
If she remains silent or refuses to reveal herself, Yamamoto might subtly test her abilities. He doesn’t underestimate anyone, especially someone capable of affecting even the blind with their hallucinations.
If she proves to be a dedicated Soul Reaper and not a rogue element, he begrudgingly allows her to continue her missions—though he warns her that if she ever oversteps her bounds, she will answer to him.
While intrigued by her abilities, Yamamoto doesn’t chase after secrets. As long as she serves the Soul Society and doesn’t pose a threat, he lets her be. However, he assigns someone (likely Soi Fon) to keep tabs on her.
Soi Fon
A Soul Reaper who refuses to show her face or body? A long-term operative who remains a mystery? Soi Fon doesn’t trust her at all. Her first instinct is to view the masked Soul Reaper as a potential traitor or threat.
Soi Fon tries to gather intel on her, but her long-term missions make it almost impossible. Whenever they meet, Soi Fon demands answers, but the masked Reaper’s aloof nature only frustrates her further.
After witnessing her hallucination powers firsthand, Soi Fon is both impressed and wary. She secretly wonders if she could counter them, but realizing they even work on the blind makes her uneasy. She knows this ability is incredibly dangerous if turned against the Soul Society.
Soi Fon keeps an eye on her but eventually acknowledges that she’s not an immediate threat. However, if given the slightest reason, she wouldn’t hesitate to take her down.
Gin Ichimaru
Gin is very entertained by her. He finds the whole “mysterious masked Reaper” aesthetic fun and plays along, teasing her about what she’s hiding under the hood.
Gin loves getting under people’s skin, so he might act like he knows her secret just to see if she reacts. He’ll drop cryptic comments like, “Ah, so that’s why you wear that mask…” even though he has no clue.
Unlike Soi Fon, Gin isn’t suspicious—he’s just fascinated. He recognizes her as someone truly hard to read, and that excites him. If she avoids answering his questions, he just smirks and enjoys the chase.
Gin would test the limits of her hallucination abilities in small ways—maybe having a subordinate unknowingly walk into one of her illusions just to see how they react.
While interested, Gin doesn’t pry too deeply. He prefers to watch and wait, enjoying the mystery she brings into his world.
Retsu Unohana
Unlike the others, Unohana doesn’t interrogate her. Instead, she watches her with quiet interest, sensing there’s more to her than just secrecy.
If the masked Reaper has been on long-term missions, she’s likely sustained injuries. Unohana would offer to heal her, but she knows the woman won’t remove her mask. She takes note of this behavior.
Unohana doesn’t fear her—if anything, she subtly warns her that if she ever turns against the Soul Society, she will be dealt with. The warning is given with a gentle smile, making it all the more chilling.
Even if no one else can figure out why she hides her face, Unohana has suspicions. She doesn’t press, but she knows that something—whether physical, emotional, or both—is keeping this Soul Reaper in the shadows.
Unlike the others, who either push her away or chase after her secrets, Unohana simply tells her, “Should you ever need aid, you are welcome in my care.” She is one of the only people who offers warmth rather than suspicion.
Sosuke Aizen
Aizen is immediately interested in her. He finds her powers utterly unique—the fact that she can affect even the blind is something he cannot do, and that intrigues him deeply.
Aizen becomes the most relentless of them all in trying to learn about her. He probes her background, investigates any records of her existence, and might even try to plant illusions of his own to see how she reacts.
He plays the long game, approaching her with charm and understanding rather than force. He tells her that they are alike—both misunderstood, both more powerful than the Soul Society acknowledges.
Aizen offers her a place in his ranks, subtly implying that she could do more than just run missions in secrecy. If she declines, he does not press—he simply waits.
Unlike Gin, who enjoys the game for fun, Aizen genuinely wants to know what she’s hiding. He sees her as something rare, something that even he cannot fully control. And that makes her invaluable.
Even if she disappears for months at a time, Aizen will keep looking. Whether to recruit her, manipulate her, or simply understand her—he will not let her mystery remain unsolved.
February 28th - X (1 Thing Wrong) by JoJo - Ex!Shunsui Kyoraku x Reader
The air in Seireitei was cool that evening, the sky painted in deep hues of purple and blue, stars twinkling in the distance like distant memories—beautiful, yet untouchable. It was fitting, you thought, because tonight was one of those nights where old ghosts refused to stay buried.
You never expected to see him again, not like this.
Shunsui Kyōraku stood at the edge of your doorway, his tall frame leaned casually against the wooden frame, as though he hadn’t left behind the wreckage of your past love. His hat sat low over his eyes, but you could still see them—those deep, brown pools that used to hold all the promises in the world.
And yet, he had broken every single one.
You crossed your arms over your chest, staring him down. "If you’re here to reminisce, don’t bother."
Shunsui sighed, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Now, now, that’s no way to greet an old friend, is it?"
You scoffed. "We’re not friends."
The words landed like a slap, but if it hurt, he didn’t show it. Instead, he stepped inside without waiting for permission. The scent of sake followed him like a shadow, mixing with the warm scent of cedar and something unmistakably him. It was infuriating.
You turned away from him, keeping your back straight, refusing to let the weight of nostalgia settle in your chest. It had been a long time since you ended things with Shunsui. A long time since you had decided you deserved better than being second to his games, his avoidance, his endless dance with commitment.
"I heard you’ve been doing well," he said, his voice smooth like silk but laced with something unreadable.
"I have been," you replied curtly, reaching for the tea pot on the table. "And I’d like to keep it that way, so tell me why you’re here and then leave."
A chuckle. Low, amused. "So cold, my love. You didn’t used to be like this."
You slammed the pot down, the ceramic clinking sharply against the tray. "Don’t call me that."
Finally, finally, a flicker of something serious crossed his features. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as though he was preparing to say something heavy.
"I made a mistake," he admitted. "Letting you go was the worst thing I’ve ever done."
The confession hit you square in the chest, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you laughed, shaking your head. "You don’t get to say that now. Not after all this time."
"You don’t believe me?" he asked, stepping closer.
"I don’t care." A lie. A blatant, bitter lie. But you had told yourself it enough times that it almost felt true.
Shunsui studied you, his gaze sweeping over your face, as if he was committing every detail to memory. "She’s not you."
You tensed.
Ah. So that’s why he was here. You had heard rumors that Shunsui had taken up with someone else, a new lover who was soft, kind, and everything he supposedly wanted. And yet, here he was, standing in your home, talking about regrets.
"Is that what this is about?" you asked, voice edged with something sharp. "She’s not me, so now you want to crawl back?"
Shunsui flinched. Just barely.
"That’s not it."
"Oh, really?" You turned to face him fully, crossing the space between you in slow, deliberate steps. "Then tell me. What is this? What do you expect me to do? Forget the nights I spent wondering why I wasn’t enough? Forget the way you made me feel like I was just another passing fancy to you?"
His expression darkened. "You were never just a passing fancy."
"Then why did you treat me like one?"
Silence.
And there it was—the same silence that used to fill the gaps in your relationship. The same silence that came when you asked too many questions, when you wanted too much, when you dared to expect something real.
You exhaled, shaking your head. "That’s what I thought."
Shunsui ran a hand down his face, sighing. "I don’t expect you to forgive me."
"Good," you snapped. "Because I don’t."
His lips parted slightly, as if the words stung more than he had anticipated. For a moment, he just looked at you, and you could almost hear the thoughts racing through his mind.
"Did you ever love me?" he asked.
Your breath hitched. You could lie, say something cruel, tell him what he deserved to hear. But instead, you met his gaze and told the truth.
"I did," you admitted. "More than anything."
His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach for you. As if he wanted to bridge the distance he had created. But you didn’t move, and neither did he.
"And now?" he asked, voice quieter.
You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your chest. "Now? I don’t know who you are anymore."
Shunsui’s eyes darkened, but he nodded, accepting your words for what they were. The truth.
He took a step back.
Then another.
And just like that, he was leaving.
Just before he reached the door, he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. "For what it’s worth, I never stopped thinking about you."
You clenched your fists. "That’s the problem, Shunsui. You think too much. You never act."
A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe you’re right."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the night like a phantom, leaving behind the scent of sake, regret, and the pieces of a love that never truly died.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
This was for the best.
It had to be.
You wouldn’t let yourself repeat history. Not with him. Not again.
February 27th - What's My Name by Rihanna - Eustass Kid x Reader
A/N: Happened again 😭😭 at least I caught it earlier this time 🤦🏽♀️
The sultry glow of lanterns flickered against the darkened skies of the Grand Line, casting a warm, golden haze over the bustling port town. The scent of salt and rum lingered in the air, mixing with the distant melodies of a rowdy tavern band. It was a place where pirates, bounty hunters, and all manner of scoundrels mingled, and tonight, you found yourself at the heart of it all.
Leaning against the bar, fingers wrapped around a glass of amber liquid, you swirled the drink idly, eyes scanning the lively crowd. The energy in the room was electric—raucous laughter, drunken cheers, and the clatter of dice rolling against wooden tables filled the space. But none of it held your attention.
Not when he was in the room.
Eustass Kid.
The infamous red-haired captain sat at a table in the corner, legs sprawled out, an air of dominance wrapped around him like a well-worn coat. His sharp grin flashed like a blade under the dim light, his metal arm drumming lazily against the wood while he nursed a drink. Killer sat beside him, silent as ever, but even his presence did little to detract from the sheer force that was Kid.
You had caught his eye the moment you stepped into the tavern. It wasn’t hard to notice his stare—the weight of it was thick, burning, like the smoldering remains of a ship set ablaze. You had played it cool at first, feigning indifference, but the way his gaze lingered made your skin prickle. He was watching you like a predator sizing up prey, but you knew better than to be hunted.
You weren’t some timid little thing.
You were fire.
And fire? It burned just as hot.
Smirking to yourself, you finished the last of your drink and sauntered towards his table. The noise of the tavern seemed to fade with every step, the air between you two thickening. By the time you reached him, he was already grinning like he’d won a prize.
“You got a name, sweetheart?” His voice was deep, rough around the edges like a shipwrecked hull scraping against the shore.
You leaned in, just enough to let him catch the scent of your perfume—sweet, intoxicating, dangerous. “Depends,” you mused, trailing a finger along the rim of an abandoned glass on the table. “Do you think you can handle it?”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and the amusement in his crimson gaze darkened into something far more primal. “Oh, I can handle a lot of things,” he murmured, taking a slow sip of his drink. “The real question is… can you?”
Your lips curled into a smirk. You loved a challenge.
Sliding into the seat across from him, you met his stare head-on. “Why don’t we find out?”
The night unraveled like a game of cat and mouse, each of you testing limits, pushing buttons, and dancing along the razor’s edge of tension. The conversation was flirtatious, but underneath it was an undercurrent of something far more dangerous—an unspoken dare, a challenge neither of you was willing to back down from.
Kid wasn’t like most men. He was sharp-tongued, brash, and completely unapologetic about who he was. But there was something intoxicating about his confidence, the way he carried himself like he owned the damn world. And maybe, in some ways, he did.
Somewhere between drinks and banter, he leaned in close, his breath ghosting against your ear. “I like you,” he admitted, voice low, rough with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not like the others.”
You smirked, tilting your head slightly. “I’d hope not. That would be boring.”
He chuckled, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. “And you’re definitely not boring.” His gaze flickered to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes, a silent promise in the way he stared at you.
Your heartbeat quickened, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you. Instead, you leaned in just enough to whisper, “So tell me, Captain… what’s my name?”
His eyes darkened, and in the next breath, his metal hand was gripping the edge of your chair, dragging you closer until your knees brushed against his. “Why don’t you make me say it?” he rasped, and damn it, if that wasn’t the most tempting thing you’d ever heard.
The moon was high by the time the two of you stumbled out of the tavern, the scent of rum and something heady lingering between you. Kid had an arm slung lazily around your shoulders, his fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of your shirt. The air between you was thick—charged with something unspoken but undeniable.
He was all rough edges, sharp angles, and dangerous intent, but damn if you didn’t want to see just how deep that fire burned.
By the time you reached the outskirts of town, the distant crash of waves filling the silence, Kid suddenly stopped, turning to face you. His gaze raked over you, lingering at the curve of your lips, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath.
“You gonna keep playing this game, or you gonna admit you want me?” he asked, his voice low, laced with amusement but edged with something darker.
You smirked, stepping closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “What if I like the game?”
His grin widened. “Then you better be ready to lose.”
And then he was kissing you.
It was anything but gentle—Kid wasn’t the kind of man to do things softly. His lips were rough, demanding, his grip firm as he pulled you flush against him. Heat surged through your veins, your fingers tangling into his red hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he deepened the kiss.
There was nothing sweet about it. It was a battle, a clash of wills, a test of dominance that neither of you was willing to lose.
By the time you pulled away, breathless, lips swollen, he was grinning like the damn devil himself.
“Say my name,” you murmured, voice teasing, breath still heavy from the kiss.
His grip on your waist tightened, and his lips brushed against your jaw, trailing lower, setting fire to every inch of skin they touched.
“(Y/N),” he growled against your neck, voice husky, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.
You smirked, threading your fingers through his hair as you whispered against his ear. “Good boy.”
His low, throaty laugh sent a thrill straight through you. “Oh, sweetheart,” he rasped, gripping your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “You have no idea what you just started.”
February 26th - Wasted Time by The Weeknd - Ex!Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Reader
A/N: So sorry for this being late. I made a mistake with the scheduled time with this😅 anyways, enjoy 🩷
The cold air of Hueco Mundo felt sharper than usual as Grimmjow sat atop a jagged rock formation, his blue hair ruffled by the wind. His elbow rested on his knee, his fingers idly tracing along the hilt of Pantera, but his mind was far from the barren wasteland around him.
It had been months—months since you'd walked out of his life, since you'd turned your back on him and left him stewing in his own mess. You were never meant to be permanent in his world; you were human, a fleeting existence compared to the never-ending hunger of an Arrancar. And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about you.
It pissed him off.
He should have moved on already. Should’ve found another distraction, someone to scratch the itch you left behind. He tried. Hell, he even had someone for a while—some faceless woman who thought she could keep up with him. But she wasn’t you.
She wasn’t even half of you.
Grimmjow scowled, rubbing a hand over his face as if that would erase the memories of you. But they always came back. The way you used to challenge him, refusing to bow even when he towered over you, all cocky smirks and sharp teeth. The way your body fit against his, the heat of your skin, the fire in your touch.
And the way he ruined it.
The fight between you two had been inevitable. You’d told him you weren’t a toy, that you weren’t something he could toss aside whenever it was convenient for him. You wanted something real, and Grimmjow—arrogant, reckless, possessive—had scoffed at the idea. He wasn’t the type to be tied down.
At least, that’s what he thought until you were gone.
Now he was stuck wondering who you were with. If someone else had their hands on you, if they knew the way your breath hitched when fingers tangled in your hair, if they knew the way to make you shudder, the way he had.
His grip on his sword tightened, his reiatsu flaring involuntarily at the thought.
“Still sulking?”
The voice came from behind him, casual but laced with amusement. Grimmjow didn’t bother looking—he already knew who it was.
“Fuck off, Nnoitra,” he growled.
The lanky Espada chuckled, stepping forward with that shit-eating grin of his. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that human.”
Grimmjow’s jaw clenched. He should’ve expected this. It wasn’t like he’d kept his frustration subtle.
Nnoitra tilted his head, eyes glinting. “What, she find someone else? That why you’re all bent outta shape?”
The air crackled as Grimmjow’s reiatsu spiked, a warning. “I said fuck off.”
Nnoitra held his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just thought it was funny, y’know? The big bad Grimmjow, acting like some lovesick idiot.” He snickered. “Guess she must’ve been one hell of a lay.”
Grimmjow was on him in an instant, his hand gripping Nnoitra’s throat, slamming him against the nearest rock. His cerulean eyes burned with fury.
“Say that again,” he hissed, voice dangerously low.
Nnoitra coughed but still smirked. “Touched a nerve, did I?”
Grimmjow’s grip tightened before he finally shoved him back, stepping away before he did something he’d regret. His blood was boiling, and not because of Nnoitra.
It was because the bastard was right.
It wasn’t just sex.
He missed you.
And that was a problem.
---
You leaned against the balcony railing of your apartment, staring at the city lights below. It had been months since you left Hueco Mundo, since you left him.
You should have been fine by now.
You were fine.
Mostly.
The problem was, no matter how many times you told yourself you made the right decision, your body and heart betrayed you. You still thought about him—his rough hands, the way his lips felt against your skin, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
And then the way he shattered it all, acting as if you were nothing more than another conquest.
You clenched your fists. You refused to be someone's afterthought.
The sound of the wind shifting behind you sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could react, a presence loomed over you—heavy, crackling with power. Familiar.
You whipped around, already reaching for a weapon, but then you froze.
Grimmjow stood there, bathed in moonlight, his usual cocky smirk nowhere to be seen. His jaw was tight, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his torn uniform. His eyes, however, were locked onto you—intense, unreadable.
Your heart pounded, anger and something far more dangerous rising in your chest.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Grimmjow scoffed. “You really gotta ask?”
You folded your arms, masking your racing thoughts. “I thought I made myself clear. We’re done.”
His jaw twitched. “Yeah? That what you tell yourself?”
You glared. “That’s what I know.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, he took a step closer, his presence suffocating. “Bullshit.”
Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “I don’t owe you anything, Grimmjow. You made it perfectly clear what I meant to you back then.”
His eyes darkened. “And you think that’s the truth?”
You faltered for just a second, and that was all he needed.
In an instant, he closed the distance, his hands gripping the railing on either side of you, trapping you in. His scent—something wild, something him—surrounded you, making it impossible to think straight.
“Tell me,” he murmured, voice rough, “you really moved on?”
You swallowed hard. “That’s none of your business.”
His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. “The hell it ain’t.”
Your pulse pounded. You should push him away. You should tell him to leave.
But you didn’t.
Instead, you did something reckless.
You grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him down, crashing your lips against his.
He didn’t hesitate.
The moment your lips met, it was chaos—desperate, fiery, all teeth and hunger. His hands found your waist, fingers digging in as if anchoring himself. Your own hands fisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him growl against your mouth.
It was just like before.
It was dangerous.
It was intoxicating.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. His grip on you didn’t loosen.
“I ain’t lettin’ you go again,” Grimmjow muttered, voice hoarse. “You’re mine.”
You should have fought back. Should have told him that you weren’t some possession, that you weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.
But as you looked into those intense blue eyes, you knew—this wasn’t over.
