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lieslab · 10 hours ago

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If we could only turn back time

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After a Dispatch article leaks, your betrayed boyfriend kicks you out of your shared apartment and you're silenced in the worst way possible.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5.1K

Trigger warning: Misunderstood trope, physical assault, anger, yelling, a car accident, plus graphic descriptions of physical injuries, and doctors/hospitals.

A/N: I had three hours of sad One Direction music, one request, and a dream. Requestee, you asked for angst and I have given it my all. I hope this meets every expectation and more <3

_ _ _

You were the light of Bang Chan’s life. At least, that’s what he thought. For months, his love grew for you. Over time, he opened up more and more. You crawled into his heart and made yourself at home.

And then you tore it open.

He thought he finally had the love of his life, but it turns out, you were just like the others. Not really loving him, but dragging along, clinging onto clout, and when the next man came, you jumped with both feet. You didn’t even say goodbye, but neither did he.

There was no warning for either of you. One day, the two of you were head over heels for each other. The next, everything fell apart. Hearts cracked like stained glass. Tears fell, but the words from both of you didn’t provide the comfort the other so desperately craved.

In the end, two hearts ripped apart. The world tipped in the wrong direction. You both lost your footing and for weeks, nothing would be the same for either of you, ever again.

~ ~ ~

When you came home from buying groceries, the apartment was quiet, like usual. Chan’s warm presence had been gone since this morning. Up at the crack of dawn, he disappeared to continue making his dreams come true.

You missed him when he was gone, just as he missed you, but dreams were important. No matter what happened between the two of you, it was the one thing you both agreed that it was important. No matter where your life took you, the most important thing was keeping focused on your dreams.

Yes, the two of you were in love, but that wasn’t stopping either of you from pursuing your passions. Not yet engaged, the two of you vowed to be supportive of each other. Through thick and thin, in the risky moments, and everything in between; you swore to be there for one another.

Your bare feet glided across the tile floor with ease. Without Chan, the apartment felt empty, but that didn’t stop you from trying to make it feel warm and fuzzy. Over on the side counter, you turned on the candle warmer. Maybe by the time Chan got home, the apartment would be full of a welcoming vanilla buttercream.

You swore his cologne had hints of vanilla. He disagreed with you and insisted you didn’t know your scents. Just to prove a point, you bought the vanilla candle, and yet, he refused to see it.

He could be stubborn like that sometimes. Certain things he couldn’t see. No matter how hard and how obvious you attempted to make these things, he refused to see them. Sometimes, it was more frustrating than anything, but you learned to deal with every part of him; the good and the bad.

You had your own set of flaws, too. Out of everyone existing in the world, there was nobody that you wanted to be with more than Chan. The two of you were still so young. There was a lifetime of adventures and fun to have. You were hoping the relationship between the two of you would last forever.

It ended when Chan stormed through your front door. The bang of the front door slamming against the sidewall sent your heart racing. You grabbed a can of peas for defense and held your breath.

Footsteps stormed through your living room. Your fingers turned pale around the can. A sigh of relief fell from you when you saw the furrow on Chan’s face. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me. What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

You put down the can and walked towards him. Your hands stretched out to grab his face. To your surprise, he swatted them away. Your eyes widen at the faint sting. “What are you-”

“You don’t get to baby me after what you did!”

“I-I did something? What did I-”

“Shut up! You don’t get to pretend like you don’t know! You know I’ve felt like a piece of shit because I can’t be here twenty-four-seven! You know I travel for work and yet you still choose to hurt me in the worst way possible!”

Confusion filled your face and it just pissed him off more. He jerked his Samsung phone from his pocket. You watched as he typed in the password. Your actions from the past few days rolled through your head like stop-motion. Each silent click, more scenes filled your head.

None of them stood out. You couldn’t recall what you did wrong, but Chan was furious. Your mouth opened, but words didn’t come out. He flipped the screen to find the bold words of a Dispatch article. Your heart hit the ground with a sickening splat.

Trouble in paradise: A Rocky Road Ahead For Stray Kids’ Bang Chan’s Romantic Relationship.

Attached, two photos of you grinning at another JYP idol from another group. In one, you were waving at them. In another, you were leaning over and hugging them.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“Really? Because you know what it looks like to me? It looks like you were attempting to hide a close relationship with someone in a younger group.��

“That’s not true! Chan, it’s Dispatch! You can’t possibly believe that I-”

“I want you out of my apartment.”

Your face fell at his words. “You…you wouldn’t. Please, just let me explain and I-”

“When have you ever talked about him? Never! You’ve never been close to another idol! Yet now, you’re hugging him?”

“Chan, please!”

“Get out!”

“But-”

“Out!” His voice raised. “Get your stuff and get the fuck out of my apartment! Don’t bother coming back!”

The words were loud enough to frighten you. You left the grocery bags scattered on the kitchen island and took off. Tears filled your eyes. You wanted to explain, but he kept cutting you off.

Too heated to think about the situation, his insecurities got the best of him. In the kitchen, he slumped against the counter with his head in his hands. Warm tears filled his eyes at the sound of your sniffles.

He wanted to comfort you, but the hurt was too much. He grew to love you with everything he had and within one Dispatch article, his swollen heart popped. How could you do this to him? After everything the two of you had been through, why did you have to ruin it?

Tears blurred your vision and you didn’t look back. You jerked items from the closet and tossed them in your suitcase. Grabbing handfuls from each of your dresser drawers, you tossed them in with everything. Even the toiletries, you didn’t have time to organize them.

Chan wanted you to go, so you’d leave. At the end of the day, this was his apartment. You paid rent, but his name was the first on the contract. He paid the down payment, not you.

You gave him one last desperate look as you passed by, but he didn’t see it. His name fell from your mouth in a weak croak, but he didn’t pull his hands from his eyes. “Please, just go away.”

You spun around, gripped your suitcase tighter, and then you did.

~ ~ ~

All night, you drove around without a destination in mind. You refused to call one of Chan’s members and plead for help. It’d only stir up drama in the group. That was the last thing you wanted.

Numbness hung over your head. You still couldn’t believe everything that happened a few hours ago. If he would have listened, he would have understood. The tears dried up a while ago, but the empty feeling in your chest didn’t go away.

Seoul’s late afternoon crept into another dark night. Gray blotted skies drifted into a pitch black. Neon lights reflected off the paint on your car, but the warm colors didn’t warm your heart.

The car felt lonely without Chan. You’d give anything to hear his laughter from beside you. The playful banter while he reminded you to turn on the correct turn signal. It’d been a constant inside joke between the two of you. Ever since you accidentally flicked on the wrong signal and turned the wrong way, he’d never let it go.

The way he tipped his head forward. Messy tendrils of dark hair fell over his forehead. His squeaky laugh warmed your heart. Such a far comparison from the anger that rattled the apartment walls earlier.

You poked his dimples between the stoplights. On nights when the two of you wanted to get away from everyday life, you found peace in this car. You’d drive and be in control for once. He’d sit beside you with a hand on your thigh.

Simple conversations filled the car. Love pooled between the two of you. Shared laughter, quiet conversations, and the secret getaway that your car provided you’d do anything to turn back time.

You loved him for a reason. You always had and you always would. Just because photos told one story, it didn’t mean they told the entire story. Snippets didn’t capture the truth. The context was important, but Chan was too distraught tonight.

Too stressed out. Too angry. Too frustrated. Things built up and that article was the breaking point. Those photographs became thorns in your relationship. In one day, the roses wilted. Withered petals gathered at your feet.

Tomorrow would be better, you reassured yourself as you drove. Tomorrow, Chan would realize he was wrong. He jumped the gun in this situation. In the morning, he’d call you and apologize.

Tomorrow, you’d be welcomed home with a heartfelt apology and a bouquet of fresh flowers. A glass full of red wine, sweets, and a home cooked dinner. Tomorrow, things will be okay again. These tears were temporary. This hurt wouldn’t last forever.

At a stoplight, you grabbed your phone and dialed Changbin’s number. On speaker phone, you waited and waited, but he didn’t pick up. If anyone would know the truth and be able to rationalize Chan’s brain, it was him.

The red light from the stoplights highlighted faint tear streaks. You sniffled, wiping your long sleeve across your dripping nose. Your eyes shut and your voice cut out and quivered as you spoke.

“Please know that I didn’t mean to cause him or you guys any harm. I ran into him the other day and asked if he could help teach me a dance. He’s one of JYP’s best dancers and I know Stray Kids are busy. His group is on break and I just thought I could surprise Chan with a dance.”

“Saying it out loud, I get that it’s stupid now. I was just hoping it’d cheer him up. He’s been so stressed lately. I thought the least I could do was make him laugh.”

“If you get a chance and if he’s willing to hear it, please let him know I love him. I love him and I’m sorry. Dispatch is stupid and I hate them. You can even ask that idol and he’ll tell you the same thing. I’m so sorry, Changbin. I’ll talk to you later. I have to find a place to stay tonight.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shut your eyes. After clicking the end call button on your phone, you threw the device into your passenger’s seat. Maybe if you were lucky, Chan would hear out Changbin. Level-headed and rational, you knew Chan appreciated the advice he gave out.

A car horn honked behind you. Your eyes quickly reopened and the green light stared back at you. Unblinking, you grumbled beneath your breath. “I’m going, I’m going, geez.” You inched out into the intersection, expecting to continue going straight.

You weren’t expecting your car to jerk left. Your screams blended with the sound of crushing metal. Orange sparks flew. The sickening scent of burnt rubber and diesel hit your nose. Your seatbelt cut into your neck and briefly cut off your air flow.

The last thing you remembered was the horn of the semi-truck vibrating your entire car.

~ ~ ~

It wasn’t Dispatch that was the first one to find out about the devastating car accident; instead, it was Jeongin. He sucked in a deep breath as he walked into the hospital. Last night, after struggling with the flu, someone admitted his friend to the hospital.

He mumbled beneath his breath, trying to figure out what to say. A blue medical mask sat over his nose and mouth. He knew to keep his distance, but he still felt awful that they were here.

Hospitals were lonely. In the brief moments when families and friends disappeared. When the nurses were following their routine rounds and doctors were checking in on other patients, people were left alone. The isolating white walls. The uncomfortable piercing beeps from the heart rate monitor. The cold IV drips, distributing medicine directly into the bloodstream.

Surgical stitches ached. Disease weighed heavily upon the lungs. Intubation and the mechanical push and pull of oxygen and carbon dioxide. Hospitals were the opposite of warm and welcoming. Cold and sterile, he rather wished his friend was at home.

The colorful bouquet of multicolored flowers was the brightest thing in the hallway. Closed doors with numbers passed by as he walked. The nurse’s announcement of his friend’s room number echoed in his head.

It dissipated when he heard your name from a nurse in a cracked room. Before he knew it, he was pushing the door open and stepping inside. On the hospital bed, you were unrecognizable. Scrapes and cuts laced your face. Both plum purple eyes swelled shut.

The right side of your face puffed up unnaturally. Black stitches poked out from the bottom of your lip. That was just your face. That wasn’t beginning to touch the cast on your arm and the rest of your body hidden beneath the blue covers.

He knew it was you. He recognized the promise ring on your ring finger. He had helped Chan pick it out. He glanced around, searching for Chan, but he wasn’t there.

“Are you lost?”

He glanced up to find the nurse. Her blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail. She observed him through black, circular-rimmed glasses.

He shook his head and repeated your name. The nurse frowned and he pointed to you. “Is this-”

“Are you family?”

“Brother.”

You weren’t biologically related, but it felt true deep down.

~ ~ ~

Changbin tried to bring the situation up to Chan, but every time he spoke your name, Chan would shut down. From what Changbin knew, Chan didn’t know what happened to you. The rest of the guys did, but they all received the same results. Every time they spoke your name, Chan grew irritated and short-tempered.

“I don’t want to talk about them! Stop bringing them up! Enough!”

The charming and charismatic leader unraveled at the seams. His heart was full of love for you and you ruined it. That wasn’t something he took lightly. The hurt oozed out in other ways.

His songs weren’t coming together as easily anymore. He used to get your feedback when he went home, but now the apartment was empty. The bed was colder without you. He was lonely, but he wouldn’t admit it.

He snapped during dance practice. After he snapped at a manager, a manager lectured him about authority and respecting his elders. Nobody understood the hurt that he was going through. It didn’t help that Dispatch began showing up and bothering him.

They could take all the pictures they wanted. He’d never give them the satisfaction of breaking his heart. Instead of listening, he put on his airpods and cranked up the music. He shoved through the camera flashes with his baseball hat low and a face mask covering the rest of his face. They didn’t deserve to turn his heartbreak into entertainment.

He’d never let them break him. They already did it once. You were gone and the longer you went without a call or a text, he assumed they were right. They caught you cheating and you accepted it. You didn’t fight for your relationship.

You didn’t call and beg for him to take you back. You didn’t call and try to explain. He sent you one text, but you never opened it. He was at a complete loss without you.

Some would call him stubborn for it, but he’d say that he was just trying to protect himself from more hurt.

~ ~ ~

The lonely days for you didn’t stay lonely for long. Jeongin discovered you hours after your accident. The days slipped by, but you weren’t alone anymore. Unconscious and pumped full of medicine, sure. They were far from lonely.

Every evening, the guys took turns hanging out beside your bed. Seungmin would sing the songs you liked. Jeongin told you funny stories of Chan, trying to bring you back to consciousness. Minho brought you warm comments from the fans who found out about your accident. The rest of the guys had their own things, but Chan’s voice never filled the room.

Stuck in a coma, things were dark. Occasionally, you could hear the beeping of your machines. You could feel your lungs expand and compress unnaturally. Your body felt like a shell more than anything. Voices came and went, but never Chan’s.

In the darkness, you couldn’t see. You weren’t sure if you were dead or not. Stranger’s voices appeared in soft whispers and then they faded. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew you were exhausted.

Those audible voices and sounds never lasted for long. You couldn’t feel pain. Every sensation within you felt numbed. A heavy fog filled your head and something clouded your vision.

You attempted to open your eyes every so often, but they didn’t budge. Someone glued them shut. Every limb tingled with tiny pins and needles. You didn’t know if this was death, but it didn’t feel comforting. Somewhere between the realm of the living and dead, doctors kept you in a medically induced coma.

How else could they heal the swelling of your brain? ~ ~ ~

“I can’t take this anymore!” Felix cried out. He shoved himself from the chair and pulled out his phone. “This is such bullshit! I’m tired of keeping this from him.”

“Well, we’ve tried. What do you propose we do? Tell him to get to the hospital without mentioning his significant other’s name?” Seungmin crossed his arms over his chest. “Good luck. We’ve tried everything and it’s been twenty-something days.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what we should do. How much longer can this go on for? This is pathetic, even for him! I get that he’s hurt, but look at them!” He reached over and gestured towards your bed.

You remained intubated and unmoving. The swelling in your puffy eyes faded a little more each day, but they still looked awful. The stitches in your lips disappeared, but a fresh pink scar remained.

Swirls of purple and blue smeared along your face. Broken bones reset and were on the mend. You were a living miracle. The first responders were afraid you wouldn’t make it, but when they pulled you from the wreckage, you continued breathing.

So he unlocked his phone and hit Chan’s contact name.

“Hello?”

“Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to get to the hospital right now. Call me when you get here.”

“WHAT?”

“I can’t talk. Just call me when you get here.”

“Felix!”

He grimaced and hung up the phone. Seungmin shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You probably gave him a heart attack. He’s going to kill you when he gets here, you know?”

“That’s a problem for later.” ~ ~ ~

Chan flew from his apartment. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Losing you was hard enough. If anything happened to a member of his group, he’d never forgive himself.

“Come on, come on!” He fumbled with his seat belt in one hand. With the other, he swung his car door shut. In seconds, he jerked the car in reverse and slammed the pedal.

He lurched down the driveway, spun the wheel with a rubbered squeal, and shifted the car into drive. The engine roared and he sped down the road.

What-ifs grew stronger on the way to the hospital. His breath caught in his throat and he struggled to stay calm. Last he knew, everyone was fine so what happened? Who? How bad was it?

The moment he parked, he whipped out his phone and dialed Felix’s number. When Felix responded, his voice came out frantic. “I’m here! Where are you?”

“Room one-twelve. I’ll meet you half-way. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait, who is-”

Click.

“Fucking hell!” He cried out. He grabbed the keys, sped from the car, and rushed towards the automatic door.

Everything was a blur inside. Voices appeared from the waiting room. The receptionist glanced over the front desk and eyed him, but she didn’t stop him. He glanced left and right and opted to go left.

The carpet disappeared beneath his feet and turned into squeaky clean white vinyl. An easy material to clean and disinfect daily. He rushed forward when he saw Felix appear down the edge of the hall.

The squeak of his shoes didn’t matter. He ignored the doctor he passed that told him to stop running. By the time he reached Felix, he grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Who is it? What happened? Tell me!”

“Just, come on.”

“Felix!”

Felix didn’t budge. He grabbed Chan’s wrist and pulled him along. His chest filled with anxiety and his lungs compressed. When the pair appeared at the right door, Felix dropped his wrist and slowly pushed the door open.

He expected to find Han or Jeongin. A broken and battered Hyunjin or Changbin hooked to oxygen. This was the intensive care unit. This was for the severe cases. The patients that required a close eye and keen detailing.

Upon seeing you, his face fell. The bruising upon your face. The tube down your throat. Your lifeless skin and unmoving limbs. There was no sign of the life the two of you created.

No reassuring smiles, or laughter. Seungmin sat solemnly beside your bed in a chair. “I’m shocked that you finally made it.”

“What the hell happened?” He hurried to the opposite side of your bed. His hand reached out, but he didn’t touch you. Too frightened by your state, he didn’t know where he could touch without causing you pain.

“Try their hand,” an unfamiliar voice spoke up. He whirled around to find a nurse in blue scrubs. “Their hands survived the crash. You can touch their hands if you wish.”

“Sorry, I came in to get some vitals. It’ll only be a few moments and then I can leave you alone. Visiting hours are open until eleven o’clock tonight. I’ve never seen you here before, so I thought you should know.”

“How long have they been like this?” He whispered. Tears filled his eyes and his heart ached.

“Since the night you told them to leave your apartment.”

“What?”

“Felix!” Seungmin’s voice shot out sternly. “It’s not like that, Chan. Yes, the accident happened that night, but don’t beat yourself up over it. A driver of a semi-truck was speeding and couldn’t stop in time.”

“That was nearly a-”

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Felix’s hand appeared on his shoulder. “We tried to tell you, but every time we tried to utter their name, you were angry. We should have found a better way to tell you, but…” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

The nurse grabbed your vitals and disappeared to give the guys time with you. Chan collapsed to his knees and grabbed your hand with both of his. For nearly a month, you’d been stuck in this bed. He thought you’d given up on the relationship with him.

This entire time you haven't texted him back. Not because you were angry. Not because you were sad. Not because Dispatch’s rumors were true. But it was because you physically couldn’t. Intubated and trapped in a medically induced coma, you couldn’t reach out, even if you wanted to.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, I-I thought that they-”

“Easy, hyung.”

“What did I do? What the fuck did I do? If I wouldn’t have kicked them out of the apartment, this wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have been so angry. I should have let them explain.”

Seungmin shot Felix a look. He shrugged and gently rubbed Chan’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Channie. You were hurting and you didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He was supposed to be the leader. A strong pillar and an even stronger influence on his younger members. As the eldest member, he was supposed to be reliable. At that moment, he crumbled. Tears appeared in his eyes as a sob broke from his chest.

No wonder you had been so quiet. He called you once and hit your voicemail. He longed to hit the call button, just so he could hear your voice again. He squeezed your hand tighter and pressed it against his cheek.

“Wake up. Wake up, baby, please! Come back to me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I'm so sorry!”

Tears blurred his vision. He struggled to comprehend your mangled face. Your other hand sat wrapped in a cast. You must have been so broken when you arrived here. He wasn’t here to comfort you. He wasn’t here to try and console and cheer you up.

A wheeze fell from his throat. The betrayal slicing through his heart disappeared. This time, he felt like he was the one that had betrayed you. He hurt you in the most unimaginable way possible.

You laid here broken and half-dead. You spent hours fighting for your life alone. And where was he? Walking around your shared apartment drowning in his own self-pity. He’d never forgive himself for this.

“What is this?” He finally whispered after his sobs faded away. His throat was raw. His voice came out scratchy. “How bad is it?”

“The doctor said they should wake up at any time. They weren’t breathing on their own. A medically induced coma ensured to make sure their brain’s swelling could stop.”

“It was that bad? They’ve been suffering through all that alone?” His bottom lip quivered. He grew afraid of the response he’d receive.

“No,” Seungmin spoke up. “Jeongin found out first. He was the one that notified us. He said he tried to tell you, but when he showed up at your apartment, you told him to leave.”

Horror filled Chan at the memory. Later that same night, back when you left, Jeongin appeared on his front porch pale. Instead of hearing out the younger member, he told him to get lost and slammed the door in his face. Deep down, he was afraid to be viewed as weak in front of the younger member.

The memory stung his heart. Poor Jeongin just wanted him to know the truth and he slammed the door in his face. No wonder Jeongin seemed so nervous around him. He was probably worried that Chan would find out the truth and yell at him for not telling him.

He rubbed his face and pawed at his eyes. “So does everyone know?”

“Everyone besides you.”

“Sorry you’re late. None of us knew how to get you here. You’d never listen when we tried to talk about them.”

“I was such a stupid, selfish asshole.”

“You were hurting,” Felix corrected him.

“And a stupid, selfish asshole.”

“You were.”

“Seungmin!” Felix cried.

“No, I want him to know that he was. I’m not going to sit here and pity him. You were a jerk, Chan. I hope you remember this moment whenever you try to act like an asshole again.”

The words were a slap in the face, and yet he wanted to laugh. As harsh as Seungmin’s words were, they rang true. He was a jerk and maybe, in the cruelest way possible, this was his karma.

He opened his mouth to respond, but paused when your fingernails scratched at his hand. The tube in your throat caused you to choke. You couldn’t fully see as your eyes half-opened. Still swollen, your vision remained limited. Silhouettes appeared and voices became more distinct.

“Get a nurse!”

Footsteps hit the ground. You gargled and reached your opened mouth. “No, no, no! You can’t touch that yet.”

“Easy, love. Try to relax and don’t fight the tube. It’s breathing for you right now.”

The distress and quickened-pace of the heart rate monitor hit a hiccup. Chan’s familiar voice grounded you, but you still struggled with the tube. Your lungs wanted to expand, but the machine compressed them. You choked again, still fighting the pesky thing.

More footsteps. Another silhouette. Glasses on an unfamiliar face and latex rubbing against your skin. “It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m going to take this out now, okay? On the count of three. One, two, three!”

You gasped and coughed at the removal. Your lungs filled with air of your own accord. More coughing. You attempted to swallow, but your mouth was so dry. The lingering phantom of a headache filled the side of your head.

“Try a sip of this, sweetheart.”

The nurse’s tone was honey to your ears. You swallowed the water the moment it hit your lips. One swallow and then another. Two more and suddenly, you were gulping like crazy.

“Easy, or you’ll choke,” Chan gently reminded you.

The nurse pulled the glass away when you finished. “Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital?”

“Do you remember your name?”

“Chan?”

“I’m right here, honey. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. Do you remember your name? This nice nurse wants to help you get better. Your doctor is on his way.”

Every question asked, you answered it perfectly. A buzz of excitement swirled around the room from your consciousness. Seungmin and Felix left the room to give everyone the good news.

When the doctor concluded you were stable, he disappeared with the nurse. A silence fell between you and Chan. You still couldn’t see perfectly, but you could feel the weight of his hand in yours.

“Baby, I’m so sorry for that night.”

“I don’t want to talk about that night.”

“I was an idiot.”

“Dumbass,” you weakly corrected him.

“I see getting hit by a semi-truck hasn’t taken away your sass.”

“If I can survive this, I can survive anything.”

“I love you and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I love you and I don’t want to hear anything else about that. I’m so tired. Can you sing me to sleep or something?”

“If I do, promise you won’t die?”

“I promise.”

Even if you couldn’t make out his face, you knew his voice, and that was good enough for you.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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sleepingdiaryzzz · 1 day ago

Text

ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇs ᴏғ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ

ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ x ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I keep seeing neglected reader on my tags so I just wanted join in 🤗

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The Batcave was eerily quiet, the usual hum of machinery and the occasional rustle of paperwork replaced by the soft sound of a child’s muted whimpers. Bruce stood in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the small form curled up on the couch, barely visible beneath the pile of blankets and pillows. The child, no longer the one he'd once pushed aside, seemed to exist in a world far beyond his reach.

His heart clenched when they shifted, those silent tears that fell like raindrops that he'd never quite been able to catch. He hated that he couldn't fix what he'd broken, no matter how hard he tried. All the wealth, all the power, none of it could mend the distance he'd created. But now, in this cavernous space where shadows ruled and secrets whispered, Bruce was trapped in his regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice softer than he'd ever let it be before, as he approached the couch, bending down to meet their eyes.

Reader's gaze was fixed elsewhere, lost in the memories that lingered like ghostly echoes. A broken sigh left their lips. Bruce had made mistakes, but this—their distance—was one he could never bridge with words alone.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” they murmured, their voice almost inaudible beneath the weight of the years. “Nothing will change it now.”

They curled deeper into themselves, the soft rustle of fabric only adding to the bitter silence. Bruce frowned but kept his distance. His hands twitched with the desire to reach out, to hold them close, but he was well aware that doing so would only bring more pain. The walls they'd built were taller now, sharper. There was no way in.

It hadn’t always been this way, of course. Once, they had trusted him—believed in him as a father, as the man who could protect them from anything. But those days had been forgotten in the cruel labyrinth of his own failure. He'd seen it, watched them grow from afar, sure that his way of loving them—distant, reserved, and ever cautious—was enough. But he hadn’t realized that love was not a thing to be claimed, a thing to be controlled. It was something to nurture, to build, to protect with patience and understanding. Something he'd lacked.

He took a step forward. “I know I failed you,” he said, but this time there was no deflection. The words were heavy, real. “But I am trying to make it right, and I’ll keep trying. You don’t have to be alone.”

The words fell like a hollow echo in the stillness of the cave. Reader shifted, pulling the blankets tighter around them. There was a coldness in their gaze when they finally looked up at him.

“I don’t need you now. I didn’t need you then,” they whispered, their voice steady but laced with a bitterness that cut deep. “I had another family… one that didn’t abandon me.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, the pain of the truth settling deep in his chest. The weight of their words pressed against him like a thousand stones, heavier than any enemy he'd ever faced.

"Don't say that," he murmured, his hand reaching for them, but they pulled away, the rejection too swift, too sharp. The distance between them seemed vast, a gulf that no gesture could cross. "I know I made mistakes... but I’m here now. You’re not alone anymore."

They stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing every word he'd spoken, every action he'd taken. They’d been so small when he'd first met them, so innocent in their trust. He thought back to the days when their laughter had filled the Manor, when they'd looked at him like he was their world. It felt like someone else’s life now, a time when he wasn’t as broken as he was now.

“I miss my dad,” [name] said softly, so quietly that it almost seemed like a plea. Their eyes were distant, lost in memories Bruce would never be able to share. “I miss the family that actually cared about me.”

Bruce’s hand faltered, falling to his side as the weight of those words crushed him. They were right. He hadn’t been a father to them, not in the way they needed. His life, wrapped up in Gotham’s shadows and the endless pursuit of justice, had left no room for the most important thing: them.

A wave of guilt surged through him, drowning out everything else. "I’m here, baby girl," he whispered, though he knew how hollow it sounded. There was no magic in those words anymore. They had no weight, no warmth. Just the coldness of regret.

[Name] didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge his words. Their gaze was elsewhere—lost to the past, to the family they had once known, the family who had cared for them when he couldn’t. The emptiness in their eyes spoke volumes, far more than any word could.

"I never needed you to come back," they said quietly, as if the words were simply a fact now, not an accusation. "I survived without you."

Bruce stood there, struck mute by the truth of it. The echoes of his failures rang louder than anything else. All the money, the power, the endless resources of the Wayne family had never mattered when it came to the one thing that would have truly made a difference: love. The kind of love that nurtured, protected, and understood.

He didn’t know how much time passed before they spoke again, but the silence stretched on like a wound that refused to heal.

"I don’t want your pity," they murmured, their voice so small that it cut him to the core. “You can’t fix me now. You can’t fix this.”

Their words were quiet, but they were final. The finality of it hit Bruce harder than any punch. He had been a hero to Gotham, had saved lives, had put down enemies. But when it came to the one thing that mattered most, he had failed utterly.

They were slipping away from him, even now. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Bruce stepped back, the weight of the truth settling into the hollow space between them. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel that emptiness, to understand just how much he had lost. He had missed out on a life that could have been, a life he could have shared with them if only he had been there.

He swallowed hard and turned, the overwhelming weight of regret pulling him deeper into the shadows.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, even though he knew it would never be enough.

But the words hung in the air like a fragile thing, doomed to fade before it could truly be heard.

And [name]? They simply lay there, wrapped in their own world—a world Bruce could never return to.

#yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere batboys #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #😻– one shot

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wewringmagicfromtheordinary · 14 hours ago

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#this this this THIS#i don't know how to read this scene other than as a man desperate not to lose the love of his life again#and willing to do anything to stop that from happening#if it's literally the LAST thing he does#i mean god when you stop to think about it#first steve had to watch him die#then HE died believing that bucky was gone#but at least steve was following him quickly enough right??#WRONG#because then it turns out that steve's not dead at all#he's back in the world and it's a world where bucky has been dead for some 65 years#and now steve has all the time in the world to really drown in that grief#and he does#he gets - i think - a little over two years of that#two years of mourning this loss#two. whole. fckin. years.#and then one day he discovers that bucky is very much alive but he's been put through the unimaginable#and only a couple of days later steve loses him AGAIN#and he spends TWO MORE YEARS without bucky#riddled with a new kind of grief and with plenty of guilt and desperate to find him#and now that steve HAS indeed managed to find him#AFTER EVERYTHING. AFTER ALL THIS TIME.#he's about to lose him all over again??????????#I WOULD HAVE LOST MY FCKIN MIND IF I WERE HIM LIKE LET'S BE REAL#yeah. yeah he's not letting go of that helicopter for anything#not even if it tears him apart#frankly i think letting go would tear him apart more than being literally split in two via rillils

I just don’t understand how literally any human looks at these two and this moment in particular and is like ‘yeah they’re platonic besties.’

Steve is literally breaking his body in half to keep his heart where it is. He’s 100% okay with being legitimately torn in half (you cannot tell me he knew he was strong enough to hold that thing there) because he can’t think of any other way to keep Bucky there and he can’t live letting him go again.

And Bucky, the Asset, the goddamn Winter Soldier, can’t comprehend who would love him that much or why, and also he’s 110% checking out those muscles (because DAMN, SON, we all were) and I just.

Platonic best friends?

#mcu #stucky #love this

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barrenclan · 2 days ago

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Man,,, Sky being able to find himself hits different if you consider he mightve not had the chance to do so in Barrenclan. With all the pressures of trying to make sure theres another generation of kits, he couldve faced a lot of grief from Cootstorm, his older sisters, or even Nightberry. Comments about him finding a mate, having kits... Or even comments about him not being a true tom because he couldnt father a litter.

You wrote a very compelling type of transphobia and homophobia in Barrenclan, where cats could love who they love and be who they are only so long as they "fulfilled their duties". And more than anything I'm thankful Sky is spared from that entirely.

Trying to write a type of homophobia and transphobia that works differently from the way our "real world version" does was definitely a challenge, but I'm glad you feel it worked out in an interesting and reasonable way. I wanted to develop it in a way that made sense for this specific group of animals, without any pre-existing human biases, as well as parallel it with actual pressures that people face in terms of acceptance sometimes coming at a "cost". And yes, in the end I also wanted to show how much better and easier it can be for individuals like Sky when freed of those expectations that he would've had to suffer under otherwise.

I'm also very glad that people felt represented by Sky! I always liked him a lot and I was very excited to finally get to his story.

#ask #anon #sky

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jinisnuggets · 1 day ago

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✧.* ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ?

INCLUDES | Yuji, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Sukuna, Toge, Yuta

READER | G/n

WORD COUNT | 0.5k (about 70 per character)

GENRE | Fluff, Headcanons

WARNINGS | Dirty jokes mention.

A/N | I hadn't noticed how long it had been since I last uploaded anything Jjk related.

➼ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ

Yuji

Yuji is an absolute sweetheart, he loves showering his partner with compliments and affection so they are aware just how incredible and meaningful they are. He knows his limits and is absolutely willing to surpass them if it means protecting his partner from any harm. He would be a bit obnoxious and maybe a little annoying at times, but he doesn't mind going shopping or doing other activities that you may enjoy.

Nanami

I genuinely think Nanami would be a pretty good partner. I think he would be a respectfully mature boyfriend/husband who would be affectionate at times and kiss you when stress gets the better of him. I think his partner would be his escape from the world and job, so he would treasure the time he gets to wrap his s/o around his arms and simply rest in safety and assurance.

Geto

Geto is an absolute tease, he would mock his partner because that's his love language. However, he will always assure no one makes you uncomfortable (and if someone does then we pray for that person). He will always be sure to let others know their boundaries whenever it comes to you, never letting someone take a step to close. When you feel upset, he will sit down and always listen to you.

Sukuna

Again, Sukuna is a tease and enjoys mocking his partner because that's his love language. Sukuna tends to be a bit more romantic with his teasing, often hitting you with things like “you know you love me” or the good old “Relax princess/prince.” He will sometimes (often) sneak in some dirty jokes. There's nothing he loves more than taking the initiative and seeing your flustered face whenever he gets the opportunity.

➼ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ

Toge

I think the reason Toge is here is obvious, due to his cursed speech, he is unable to speak his sentiments in a genuine manner. So I believe he'd like whenever you show small actions of care or interest towards him: things like brushing his hair, cupping his cheeks, kissing him on the forehead or cheek are all things he adores. He doesn't need much; he's content with small actions of affection.

➼ ʙᴏᴛʜ

Megumi

Fushiguro has been rightfully depicted as the “perfect man” of Jjk, so therefore he lands a spot here. He isn't a very physically affectionate partner, but he always shows he cares by listening to you attentively and assuring you with words of affirmation or advice if that's what you wish; in addition, he is very protective over his partner. I think he'd relatively enjoy whenever you take the initiative to kiss or hug him.

Gojo

Gojo can be a pretty immature person, so I think he'd be the type to show off his partner: introducing them as the great Gojo’s wife/husband, etc. Gojo would like giving compliments, but he'd also like receiving them to increase his ego. I think he'd constantly buy gifts for his partner and spoil them despite you asking him not to, but of course he likes whenever you stand up and kiss him or give him small words of encouragement.

Yuta

Yuta is another sweetheart of the series, so I think he'd always make sure to spend his time to the fullest whenever he's with you. He is constantly gone on overseas missions, so therefore, his time with you is limited. He'd spend that limited time with you and treasure it, whether it's by practice, or lunch. Picnics are common and he adores them, or other small things like drawing competitions. He doesn't care as long as you both are having fun.

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estrellami-1 · 3 days ago

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Stay for Dinner (Stay Forever)

ao3 link

Steve had never been more scared in his life.

He’d been through some things, he thought. Things that changed you as a person, probably. But now he understands why humans are apex predators.

Because he’s being hunted.

He’d started following Steve a few blocks back. He doesn’t have anything on him, pepper spray or a knife. He has keys and fear on his side.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he chastises himself, blinking tears away and speeding up the tiniest bit. He sees, in the reflection of shop windows across the street, he’s matching Steve’s pace.

Fuck.

He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know who to ask for help, when he suddenly sees someone.

He’s an Alpha, Steve can tell right away, even though he’s not as strong-looking as other Alphas. He’s intimidating enough, all leather and chains and wild hair and tattoos, and Steve doesn’t know much about this punk kind of community, but he knows it’s a community, knows this is the safest person he’s gonna find.

He speeds up the tiniest bit more, is practically jogging when he reaches the man. “Baby!” He exclaims, throwing his arms around the man.

The man startles, but seems to catch on quickly, wrapping his own arms around Steve’s waist. “Hey, darlin’,” he says happily, loud enough it carries. “How was your day?”

“Alright,” Steve admits, letting out a little chuckle full of stress.

“Yeah? What made it just alright?” He questions, stepping back to wrap his arm loosely around Steve’s waist, the barest hint of pressure to suggest they keep walking the direction Steve was heading.

Steve thinks, silently, he could fall in love with this man. He’s halfway there based on scent alone.

“Oh, you know.” He keeps his tone light, pretends to look at the man holding him. Actually looks past him, to more shop windows. The man who was following him disappears down a side street, and Steve feels so relieved he nearly collapses.

“Oh, hell,” he breathes out, stepping back and gusting out a sigh. “I’m so sorry, fuck, he was- he was following me, and I wasn’t sure what to do-”

The alpha shushes him. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay. I get it, I saw him, and hey, I’ve definitely been in worse situations than a pretty omega throwing themself at me.” His eyes twinkle, inviting Steve in on the joke.

He chuckles a little. “Seriously, thank you so much.” He puts a hand on his chest. His hand is still shaking. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared.”

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “I don’t know that either of us want you going anywhere alone right now, though. Do you have someone you can call? I’m sure we can pop into any of these places and you could ask to use their phone.”

Steve feels a whine build in his throat. “I don’t- don’t have anyone, I’m new here, my roommate is my absolute best friend in the world but she’s busy, and anyways she’s half an hour away, and-” his breath catches on the whine, brings it out on the exhale.

“Hey, you’re okay,” he promises. “Would it be okay if I came with you? Or is there a different designation or gender you’d rather escort you? I’m sure we could find someone.”

“No, it’s-” Steve takes a couple of deep breaths. Wills his voice to stop shaking. “It’s fine, you can- if you’re not busy-”

“I’m not,” he confirms. “And I’d love to walk you wherever you’re going.” He pulls back and extends a hand, grinning. “I’m Eddie.”

“Steve,” he gusts out, grasping Eddie’s hand and shaking it. “Seriously, you don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie promises. “My best friend in the entire world is an omega. She’s used me to get away from Alpha creeps so many times, I’ve lost count.” He puts a hand on his chest, bows his head. “And I’d like to formally apologize on behalf of Alphas everywhere. I promise we’re not all creepy knotheads.”

Steve giggles. “I believe you,” he promises. “Thank you. Again. And… thank you for making me feel like it’s okay.”

“It is okay,” Eddie tells him immediately. “That guy’s a real creep, and if I ever see him again, I’m probably just gonna punch him in the face. No words, not a hey, how’re you doing, just bam! Right in the schnoz.”

Steve giggles again. “I’d pay to see that.”

Eddie pouts at him, offers his arm as they continue walking. “You don’t think I could take him? I know I’m scrawny but I’m hiding some muscle, okay, I- well, I was gonna say I work out, but that would be a lie. The most working out I do is moving amps, setting up for a show.”

“You work for a band? Or- a venue, or something?”

“You could say that,” Eddie agrees, letting go of Steve to hop a couple steps in front of him and bow. “You are looking at the frontman of heavy metal band Corroded Coffin.”

“Oh,” Steve says, nonplussed, “I thought you were punk.”

“Punk?” Eddie exclaims. “An affront to my culture! An affront to metalheads everywhere! An affront to me!” He mimes stabbing himself in the heart, dropping in a heap to the pavement.

It makes Steve laugh as he nudges Eddie’s knee with his toe. “Eddie? Oh no, he’s dead. Guess I’ll have to go on alone, with no one to protect me.”

“And I’m revived!” Eddie exclaims, jumping to his feet. His hair falls in his face, and he spits it out of his mouth as he swipes wildly at it.

Steve laughs, moves in closer to help. He meticulously separates Eddie’s bangs from the rest of his hair, then steps back with a light flush dusting his cheeks, realizing how close they were. “There,” he murmurs.

“My hero,” Eddie intones, sweeping low into a bow again before standing straight up and once again offering Steve his arm.

He accepts, and they walk on together.

His apartment isn’t too far, only about fifteen minutes, and it seems much shorter than usual because of the easy conversation flowing. When they get to Steve’s apartment, he sees Robin’s car and grins at Eddie, motioning him inside. “Rob,” he calls, “I brought my boyfriend!”

She bursts out of her room. “Steve!” She yells, pulling him into a hug. She pulls back to study them. “You’ve never met this man before, you slut,” she tells him affectionately. “Hi, Robin Buckley, who are you?” She thrusts a hand Eddie’s direction.

He grins and shakes. “Eddie Munson, at your service.”

“Hi,” she agrees, then taps Steve rapidly on his shoulder. “Explain. Why do you scent stressed?” She presses her nose into his neck. “It’s old but still there. What happened, Dingus?”

“I was being followed,” he tells her.

“A creepy knothead variety of our designation,” Eddie explains.

“I saw Eddie and he was the first person who looked… safe.”

“He jumped me,” Eddie agrees, smirking at Steve. “Not really beating the slut allegation, sweetheart.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve tells him, laughing.

“I noticed what was happening,” Eddie continues. “Played along. Creep Alpha left, but-”

“I didn’t want to be alone,” Steve admits. “And I knew you were busy, and way far out, and we don’t know anyone else in this godforsaken city.”

“Now you do,” Eddie tells him.

“Now I do,” Steve agrees softly.

“Eddie Munson,” Robin murmurs, studying him with narrowed eyes. “Why do I know that name?”

“Um,” Eddie says, “are you into metal? I’m in a band.”

Robin snaps her fingers at him, expression brightening. “Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. “Holy shit, yes! Have you seen us?”

“Oh, no,” Robin laughs. “Not really my scene. But there’s this pup we knows who’s absolutely obsessed. Never shuts up about you.”

Steve frowns. “Dustin?”

“Yeah, Dingus.”

“But I thought he was always going on about the other band.”

“Ah, yes, because as we all know, you can only ever like one band at a time.” She hits him with an extremely judgy expression. “Do you listen when your child talks?”

“Hey, if he’s mine he’s yours, and you know I don’t.”

“Um,” Eddie says, “child?”

“Not actually mine,” Steve reiterates. “But also basically yeah. And yes, he’s obsessed.”

A slow grin creeps across Eddie’s face. “In that case, do you want to do the funniest thing ever?”

Steve’s eyes spark as a manic grin makes its way onto Robin’s lips. “Oh, hell yeah,” Steve agrees.

They work out the plan: invite Dustin over, have Eddie be the one to open the door.

“Hey, little dude,” Steve says into the phone. “You busy for the next little bit?”

“Uh,” Dustin says, sounding distracted, “yeah? I’ve got a test due tonight, a paper due Friday, and then it’s prep for finals. Why?”

“Just, uh. Wanted to see if you wanted to come over,” Steve says weakly. “But if you’re busy-”

“Rain check,” Dustin decides. “Three weeks from Friday?”

Eddie, who’s standing close enough to hear, shrugs and nods at Steve’s questioning look. “Sure, bud,” Steve tells him. “Three weeks from Friday.”

“Okay, great,” Dustin says. “See you!” And hangs up.

Steve pouts at the phone for a second. “No respect,” he sighs.

“Aw, Stevie,” Eddie playfully pouts, “I’m sure your pup loves you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles at Eddie.

“What does the rest of your day look like?”

“I do believe the rest of my day depends entirely on what you’re planning with me.” He leans against the wall, shoulders curved toward Steve, who smiles rather bashfully.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Back in her room, Robin calls, “would you like to stay forever?”

Steve instantly blushes firetruck red. “Feel free to ignore her,” he tells Eddie. “She likes to quote movies at the absolute worst time.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Eddie murmurs. His cheeks are dusted pink. “I dunno about forever, not yet, but I certainly wouldn’t mind staying for dinner.”

“Okay,” Steve murmurs. “Chicken work for you?”

“Chicken,” Eddie murmurs back. “Sure.”

Neither of them look away from each other.

The days turn into weeks. That first day—first night, really—Eddie was there, they’d exchanged numbers.

Steve talks to Eddie on the phone most nights. The nights he doesn’t, he’s with Eddie.

At first they’re just friendly. Friends. But there’s something deeper and they both sense it. Eddie’s rosemary-and-walnut scent mixes perfectly with Steve’s lemon-basil. Robin complains about getting hungry around them, and they just laugh, knowing she’s teasing.

Still, that something deeper is there, is entirely present, and Steve knows, and Eddie knows, and he knows Eddie knows he knows. They’re both inching toward a free fall.

There’s one night they’re in Eddie’s apartment. What Corroded Coffin sales don’t cover—which is most of it, Eddie had explained—his shifts at the mechanic shop do. He gets home, weary and grease-covered, and Steve had already let himself in, was making dinner for the two of them.

“Stevie,” Eddie groans, the second he steps foot in the door.

Steve clenches his thighs at the bolt of want that spears through him.

He laughs it off, halfway turns to meet Eddie’s gaze. “Yeah?”

“Fuck, smells amazing,” he breathes. “I’m so hungry I could eat a dragon. Do you know how big those are? And I mean a whole dragon, too, an adult, not a tiny baby one.”

“You’re hungry,” Steve summarizes.

“Starving,” Eddie agrees, brushing a kiss on his cheek before moving off to his bedroom to change.

Steve freezes. Hears the moment Eddie realizes what he’s done.

He’s got a choice to make, he knows. He could pretend like nothing happened. Things would be awkward, for a minute, but they’d get past it.

He could address it. Eddie might get nervous or defensive. Might not react well. Worse yet, he might say he didn’t mean to.

Or…

He sends out a happy, pleased scent, more honey-lemon than usual, and continues cooking.

He hears Eddie walk tentatively out of his bedroom. Hears the moment his feet hit kitchen tile and he smells Steve. “Oh,” Eddie whispers.

“Go change,” Steve murmurs lightly. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Yeah,” Eddie responds. Steve can hear the smile. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he parrots.

He plates the food, and Eddie comes out just as he’s putting the plates on the table, wrapping him up in a hug. His nose dips closer to his scent gland than is strictly friendly, and Steve sends out more of the happy honey scent.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs. “Yeah?”

Steve leans back into him, lets him support his weight. “Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s, around his waist.

He gets Eddie’s happy scent for his efforts, woodsmoke and petrichor filling his nostrils as he inhales.

They talk during dinner. About what they’re feeling, what they’re looking for. “Sweetheart,” Eddie tells him. He’s liberal with the terms of endearment, which Steve definitely likes. “I liked you the minute you threw yourself at me, trying to get away from that creep.” He inches his hands over the table, grabbing Steve’s. “But I fell for you the minute you laughed.”

Steve blinks. “The minute I laughed?”

“Mhm,” Eddie nods. “I believe I was apologizing on behalf all Alphas everywhere, who aren’t raging knotheads. You giggled, and you said I made you feel safe, and I looked in your eyes and fell in.” He shrugs. “And, I mean, you know our scents are compatible.”

“More than that,” Steve murmurs.

Eddie nods. “Exactly! And I-” he gusts out a breath. “Hell, Steve, I’m terrified. I don’t know how to be in love. But if it means a future with you? I’d do anything.”

“Love?” Steve asks, scarcely able to breathe.

Eddie bites his lip, grips Steve’s fingers a little bit harder. “Yeah.”

Steve abandons his food, rounding the table and collapsing onto Eddie’s lap. “I love you too,” he whispers. “I know it’s really early, but…”

“No take-backs.” Eddie smiles, pokes his side. “‘S not too early if we both feel it. ‘S just right.”

“Just right,” Steve murmurs, a wondering smile on his face. Suddenly, it turns teasing. “Which one of us is Goldilocks, then?”

Eddie snickers. “Obviously you, you’ve got the hair. My hair’s more like one of the three bears.”

Steve laughs, tugs teasingly on a curl. “Yeah, but I like your hair.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. ‘S metal.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie rumbles. “You tryin’a start somethin’?”

Steve hums, pulls back. “No, sorry. Just wanna be near you right now.” He looks up at Eddie. “Is that okay?”

“Perfect, baby,” Eddie agrees. He shifts, drags Steve’s plate closer. “Finish your food,” he suggests. “Then we can go watch a movie. Or call Robin, if I know you the way I think I do, this conversation isn’t going to be able to wait until you get home.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “it probably can’t wait till tomorrow.”

Careful eyes watch Eddie’s reaction. He smiles, nuzzles the side of Steve’s head. “Definitely not,” he says. “That would be a complete violation of best friend code.” He pokes Steve’s thigh. “Can we call Chrissy after? Can she come over? She hasn’t met you yet.”

Steve narrows his eyes in thought. “Chrissy’s your omega friend, right?”

“She is.”

“And does she like women?”

Eddie laughs. “I like the way you think, baby! Call Robin first, get her over here, Chrissy lives closer than you two do. I’ll call her as soon as you’re off the phone with Robin, okay?”

Steve grins. “Sounds great.” He shovels the rest of his food in his mouth, as fast as he can, then runs to the phone.

Eddie’s not any slower. He doesn’t even finish, excitement pulling any remaining hunger away, and he ends up behind Steve, pulling him into a hug as he talks to Robin.

They hang up after only a couple of minutes, and Eddie dials Chrissy’s number. “Hey,” he says, barreling on before she can even say hi back. “You’ve got ten minutes to get over here if you wanna meet my omega.” He winks at Steve, who beams back at him. Honey and woodsmoke permeate the space, dancing around and melting into each other, creating a soothing blend of scents.

He gets off the phone and turns Steve to face him fully. “Hi,” he murmurs.

Steve giggles. “Hi.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Steve’s eyes widen, and his inhale turns into a gasp. “Please,” he breathes, and Eddie does.

They’re still kissing, just little pecks, by the time there’s a knock on the door, signifying Chrissy’s arrival.

They part just long enough for Eddie to open the door and hug Chrissy. Steve scoots in under Eddie’s arm, leans into him as he greets her. Strawberry pastries bloom as she grins. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Steve giggles, shakes her proffered hand. “I agree. I’ve heard good things about you.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “And you don’t think it’s weird that he’s such good friends with an omega?”

Steve grins. “My Alpha best friend is on her way over as we speak. I’d argue I’m one of the few who really understands.”

“Then I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” Chrissy nods, walking into the kitchen and fetching herself a drink.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “That’s Chrissy.”

“I heard that!” She calls.

Steve giggles. “I really don’t think you two can be worse than me and Robin.”

“That sounds like a challenge, baby.”

“It wasn’t,” Steve protests, laughing. “Not everything has to be a competition.”

“It doesn’t have to, but it’s more fun if it is.”

Steve snorts, rolls his eyes, shakes his head. “C’mon.” He motions to the kitchen, and Eddie walks with him.

“So, Steve,” Chrissy says, sitting on the counter. “How did you two meet?”

Steve grimaces. “It’s not a very happy story.”

She sighs. “What did he do?”

Steve blinks, then laughs. “Oh, no, he was great. It wasn’t him at all.”

“C’mon, Chris,” Eddie complains. “You should know me better than that by now.”

“I do know you and that’s exactly why I thought it was you,” she fires back, before looking back at Steve with a little nod.

“I, uh. Robin and I are new here, so I don’t really know anybody yet. I guess I do now, but I didn’t. I was walking and I saw this Alpha following me. And I even tried turning, to see if he was actually following me? And he was. And I didn’t- I had keys, I guess, if it came down to it, but I really didn’t want it to come down to it.” He grimaces, realizes the air is rank with rotted greens. He grimaces again, apologizes. Smiles when Eddie grumbles, pulls him in tighter, and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Want me to continue?”

Steve shakes his head, relaxes in Eddie’s hold. “I can. Just… got overwhelmed for a second.”

“It’s alright, baby. Take all the time you need.”

“I mostly understand anyways,” Chrissy says softly. “If you’d rather skip all that.”

Steve sighs. “He didn’t touch me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he tells Chrissy. “I saw Eddie standing there, in front of me a little, and he was the first person who looked safe. So I just… pretended. I ran up to him and hugged him, and called him baby, loud enough the guy following me could hear. And thankfully Eddie caught on quickly. He jumped in, no hesitation, and the guy left, but… I was still rattled from it, y’know?”

“Definitely,” Chrissy nodded.

“So he walked me home, came in and met Robin, and… stayed for dinner.”

Eddie snickers. “I think I did what Robin asked, though. I’m staying forever.”

Steve rolls his eyes through his grin. “She’s gonna be insufferable about that.”

“That’s your best friend, baby.”

“Yes, I know,” Steve grouses. He’s still smiling.

Just then there’s another knock on the door, and Steve sprints to open it. “Robin!”

“Steve!” She greets him. He gives her a hug and pulls her into the kitchen. “Robin, meet Chrissy, Eddie’s best friend.”

Robin blinks. “Uh,” she says. “Hi.”

“Hi!” Chrissy says. “It’s really nice to meet you. Steve said you’re like me and Eddie! That’s cool!”

“Yeah,” Robin says, “except we were here first.” She immediately blanches. “Oh, fuck, sorry, no, that implies that what you have isn’t the same as what we have, which means I think you’re a liar, except I don’t think you’re a liar, I swear, I just-”

Aside to Eddie, Steve whispers, “should we give them the room?”

In lieu of an answer, Eddie wraps his arm around Steve and quietly walks them out of the kitchen.

In the living room, sounds are a little muffled, but Steve hears Robin’s ramblings broken up by a softer, higher voice—Chrissy—and soon they’re both talking, a low murmur that works as the background to the steady thump-thump of Eddie’s heart against his ear where his head is pillowed on Eddie’s chest. He yawns, curls in a little. “I could fall asleep like this.”

“I’m here if you want to,” Eddie murmurs, running a hand down Steve’s back. “I’ll be here. Take you to bed, if you want.”

Steve shakes his head. “I wanna stay out here. But if they stay in there for much longer, I’m gonna fall asleep. Especially if you keep that up.”

Eddie chuckles lightly, keeps rubbing his back. “You do that, baby.”

Steve does.

He wakes up slowly, later, in a way he hasn’t in so long. He’s used to his alarm blaring, shocking him awake, and the rare days he gets off he wakes up in a rush thinking he’s late for work. He rarely wakes up slowly like this, pushing his legs out to stretch, tilting his head up, humming when it puts his nose in contact with Eddie’s scent gland. Rosemary and woodsmoke seep into his nostrils, permeates every inch of his brain. He knows, distantly, he’s pumping out the honey again, but it’s unintentional, and he nearly falls back asleep. He drifts for a while, laying in that twilight of sleep, before Eddie shifts, waking up.

He puts a hand on Steve’s back, and Steve wakes up more, purrs. Eddie rumbles out an Alpha purr back. “Mornin’, baby,” he mumbles. Steve just hums again, and Eddie chuckles. “Not awake yet?”

Another hum. “Almost.”

“Take your time, sweetheart.” He rubs his hand down Steve’s back. “I’ll be here.”

Another hum. “When’id Robbie n’ Chrissy leave?”

“They didn’t stay for too long. They left at the same time, and Robin triple-checked that you’d be spending the night here.”

Steve nods sleepily. “‘S good.”

Eddie chuckles. “Yeah. You wanna wake up or go back to sleep, baby?”

“‘M awake.”

“Wasn’t really my question, but I think that might’ve answered it anyways.” He dips his head to press a kiss to Steve’s temple, and Steve purrs again. Or more. He’s not sure he ever stopped in the first place.

His purring is interrupted by a yawn. He opens his eyes with he finishes, blinks in the dim light of Eddie’s room. “Food?”

“I can make some,” Eddie agrees. “How’s eggs and toast sound?”

“And coffee?”

“And coffee,” Eddie chuckles. “You gonna let me up? Or are you planning on becoming a limpet in your next life and you’re getting a head-start now?”

“Wanna go with you.”

“You can, but that doesn’t negate the fact that we’ve still gotta get up.”

Steve huffs out a dramatic breath, rolls out of bed and onto his feet. Stretches, then realizes he’s in boxers. No pants. He squints at his bare legs, then at Eddie, who smiles. “I didn’t want you wearing jeans in bed, sweetheart, I know how uncomfortable that is. I can give you some pajama pants if you want.”

“Yes, please. And thank you.”

“You,” Eddie says, “are most welcome.” He rolls out of bed and strides to his dresser, tossing Steve a pair of red-and-black plaid sleep pants.

He dons his own, blue with pink polka-dots. Snickers when Steve looks between the two of them.

“You wanna know why I put these on? Instead of giving them to you?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “You know I like those better.”

“I put them on,” he pauses for a taffy kiss, sweet and stretched-out, “so you can take them home with you tonight and put them in your nest.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Steve breathes.

Eddie pushes in for another kiss, this one impatient, hot and searing, licking across the seam of Steve’s mouth, pressing between his lips, bullying his way past Steve’s teeth until he can taste him, and it should be gross because neither of them have brushed their teeth yet but instead it’s just good in a way that makes his Alpha light up. “Love you,” he mutters against Steve’s lips, pulling back to tap Steve’s hand, still holding the plaid pants. “Get dressed, baby. I’ll start on breakfast.”

“No, wait for me!” Steve whines, frantically pushing his foot into the half-folded leg of the pants.

Eddie waits, so Steve slows down a little, letting the pants unfold before he shoves his legs through the holes.

They pad out to the kitchen together, where Steve sits on the counter while Eddie pops bread in the toaster and fries some eggs.

Eating is a quiet affair, Eddie hooking his ankle around Steve’s as soon as they sit down, just wanting to keep that touch.

Eventually Steve has to go get ready for work, so he heads home and nearly bumps into Chrissy as she’s walking down the steps of his apartment building. He grins at her. “Hello,” he says, “sleep well?”

She flushes, but winks at him, and he laughs.

He continues on, up to his apartment, where Robin’s waiting for him. She’s in the kitchen, nursing her second cup of coffee. Steve knows it’s her second because she always downs the first the moment it’s no longer scalding. “Well hello there,” she says, lecherous grin on her face. “And what did you get up to all night, might I ask?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “We literally just slept, Robs, I didn’t wake up until this morning. I did pass Chrissy on my way in, though.”

She nearly chokes on her coffee, blush staining her cheeks pink. She tries to wave him away, goes for the sappy comment. “I’ve never known you to fall asleep on someone you’ve only known a few weeks. It takes longer than that for you to be willing to invite someone into your pack.”

Steve flushes, holds up the pants Eddie had on. “Um,” he says, “surprise?”

Her mouth drops open. “You bitch!” She delightedly shrieks.

He giggles. “Guess you were right about me being a slut, huh?”

“You should know by now that I’m always right. And I thought you said you didn’t have sex?”

“Yeah, but I can still be a slut without having sex.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “That’s not how that works, at all, but also yes. You can. And only you, I think.” She shrugs, turns away to head to her room, bumping his arm with her shoulder. “You’re one of a kind.”

“Hell yeah I am.”

“I never said that was a good thing.” She disappears into her room, leaving Steve to stare after her.

To think she called him a bitch.

The week continues as it had gone before; he and Eddie still talk on the phone nightly, except now those are few and far between; they’re usually at an apartment, either bothering Robin or enjoying solitude with each other in Eddie’s apartment. On the nights when Steve doesn’t work the next day, he’ll stay over at Eddie’s.

He doesn’t entirely know what they’re waiting for. Why they haven’t had sex yet. They both want to, but it’s like there’s a lot whisper in the air, something murmuring not yet, it’s not time now, but soon. And honestly? Steve really enjoys the change of pace.

About a week later is the third Friday, the day Dustin’s coming over. Eddie gets there around noon, because when Dustin says six p.m., what he really means is whenever he feels like it.

That’s why, at a quarter after three, there’s a knock on the door.

Eddie slides in his socked feet over the hardwood, nearly running into the door and saving it at the last moment. Steve snorts.

Eddie throws open the door. “Ah, hello! You must be Dustin!”

“Oh holy shit,” Dustin says, blinking wide-eyed at Eddie. “You- you’re-”

“Wow,” Steve says, coming up to Eddie, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless before.” He pats Eddie’s shoulder. “Good job.”

Eddie snorts. “Thanks?” He hip-checks Steve, sending a warm smile his way.

Steve grins back, moves to the kitchen. “In or out, Henderson, and close your mouth ‘fore you start catching flies like that Mona Lisa of yours.”

Dustin scurries inside. Eddie frowns. “Mona Lisa?”

“Yeah, he’s got one of those…” Steve waves a hand. “Plants that eat bugs.”

“Venus fly trap,” Dustin says. “You’re Eddie Munson.”

“I am.”

“And you’re in Steve’s apartment.”

“I am.”

Dustin pauses. “Why in the hell-”

Eddie wraps an arm around Dustin’s shoulders. “Ah, to be young and carefree, to know not the trap of a heart given to another-”

“He’s got a girlfriend,” Steve says, crossing his arms. “Trap?”

Eddie freezes. “Not trap. Uh… fuck, I wrote myself into a corner.” He releases Dustin, bounds up to Steve. Ducks his head and looks up at him. “Forgive me?”

Steve chuckles. “Dramatic dork,” he says, but presses a chaste kiss to Eddie’s lips.

“What the fuck?” Dustin screeches.

Steve winces. “Dude, language and volume, c’mon. Christ, it’s like you’ve never seen two people kiss before.”

“But you!” Dustin says emphatically. “Him! How?”

Steve exchanges a glance with Eddie, then sighs and tells Dustin how they met. “He escorted me home, met Robin, stayed for dinner…”

“Stayed forever,” Eddie mumbles in Steve’s ear.

Steve chuckles. “Even if I thought you were punk when I first met you?”

“You what?” Dustin hisses. They both ignore him.

“Even then,” Eddie promises. “Especially then, actually, as soon as people know I’m in a band they act different. You didn’t. Just kept talking to me like a normal dude.”

“Oh,” Dustin says suddenly. “Really?”

Eddie offers him a crooked smile. “Don’t sweat it, man, according to Robin you’re an actual, genuine fan. Already worlds ahead of the people who didn’t give me the time of day until they thought I could give them popularity.”

Dustin nods. “That makes sense,” he says. “Still. It sucks that people are like that.”

Eddie shrugs. “I feel sorry for ‘em. Chasing everything they can to get an inch closer to the top. What’re they gonna see once they get there? A whole lotta nothing. Plus,” he smiles at Steve, “it means we’re here, now.”

Steve leans against him. Eddie wraps his arms around his waist. “Together,” Steve agrees.

“Together,” Eddie parrots.

“Oh,” Dustin murmurs again. “You guys, like, actually love each other, don’t you?”

Steve tilts his head. “How’d you know?”

“The way you looked at each other,” he says honestly. “Like it belongs in a movie or something.”

“Oh,” Steve murmurs. Eddie’s arms tighten around his waist.

“You’re right,” Eddie tells Dustin. “We do.”

Steve snickers. “We do belong in a movie?”

Eddie laughs, dislodges Steve, swats at him until Steve swats back.

“Wow,” Dustin says, deadpan, “you two really do deserve each other. You’re both children.”

Steve exchanges a look with Eddie. They both charge Dustin, who chants, “Shit, shit, shit!” as he runs for the living room.

Eddie catches him around the waist, throws them both onto the couch, where they lay, giggling and panting.

Steve laughs, sitting on the chair to the left of the couch. “Speaking of children,” he asks Dustin, “do you want to call the rest of the Party?”

Dustin’s eyes gleam. “Holy shit, yes, wait, I brought-” he scrambles up, sending an elbow into Eddie’s gut in his hurry. Eddie squawks and grabs at the back of Dustin’s shirt, but Dustin’s out of reach, and doesn’t notice what he just caused. He digs around his backpack for a minute. “Ha!” He yells, holding up a walkie-talkie. “Okay, hang on, lemme-” he depresses the button. “This is Dustin calling a code yellow, everybody come in! I repeat, code yellow, come in!”

“This had better be good, shit-for-brains,” Max warns him.

“That’s what a code yellow means, Max. And you’ve gotta say over. Over.”

“Fuck you, how ‘bout that?”

“Christ,” Steve murmurs to Eddie. “Meet my feral children.”

Eddie grins back. “They sound like fun.”

“Okay,” Will chimes in. “I’m here. Dustin, don’t answer Max, she’s just gonna have an even worse comeback. Save yourself the pain. And us. Over.”

“El and I are here,” Mike says. “Over.”

“How about Lucas? Over.”

“Here,” Lucas says wearily. “What’s this about? Over.”

“I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.”

“You didn’t know him until today, shithead,” Steve tells him.

“Is that Steve? Hi Steve!” El calls. “What’s the news?”

He grabs the walkie out of Dustin’s hand, sends him a look when he tries to take it back. “The news is,” he looks at Eddie, who nods encouragingly, smiling. “my Alpha.”

He hands the walkie to Eddie. “Hey, guys!” He says. “My name is Eddie Munson. It’s nice to sort-of meet you!”

“Dustin,” Will says, low and controlled. “Tell me this isn’t a prank of some sort.”

Dustin steals the walkie back. “Dude, I nearly died,” he swears to Will. “It’s him. It’s really him.”

The walkie explodes with noise.

“Who?” Max asks.

“I’ll educate her,” Lucas promises, and then they’re both gone.

Then Mike, El and Will take turns pinging in. During a lull, Eddie swipes the walkie. “I’ve got a question,” he says. “Why do you guys calls yourselves the Party?”

“Oh, shit,” Steve murmurs. “I’m gonna lose you to them.”

“Never,” Eddie promises him.

“Uh,” Will says hesitantly. “We play D&D. It’s how most of us met, we were all interested in playing in school, and we kind of just… bonded.”

“No shit?” Eddie asks. “That’s super cool! Who’s your DM?”

“I am.”

Eddie laughs. “Dude, that’s great! I’ll have to pick your brain for storylines. Maybe we could swap our favorites? Do you have any homebrew or are they all canon?”

“They’re all canon,” Will admits. “But I did add my own twists to a few.”

“Man, that’s awesome! When I first started I was terrified I was gonna mess up. Had to do everything by the book. But then I got more confident and I started adding some of my own stuff in, and then I got even more confident and decided to write my own campaign.”

“And it was good?”

Eddie snorts. “Actually? It was complete shit. But I had good friends who didn’t tell me that, they encouraged me to keep trying, and I did, and now I’m actually good at whipping up a homebrew.”

“Wow,” Will breathes. “Could we- not now, obviously, but-”

Eddie chuckles. “I’d love to talk shop with you, Will.”

“Stealing you from me,” Steve murmurs. Eddie rubs a soothing hand on his thigh, passes the radio back to Dustin. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you really feel that way?”

Steve shrugs, tips his head down. “‘M just… feeling weird, I guess. It’s not your fault. You don’t have to coddle me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Eddie agrees, bringing Steve’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. “Tell me how I can fix it?”

Steve shrugs miserably. “I don’t know.”

“You’re just feeling some kinda way?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s alright, baby. Wanna come sit over here with me?”

Steve considers it, then nods and moves from his chair to the couch, next to Eddie, close enough they’re touching all the way down and Eddie can comfortably get an arm around his shoulders. “There we go, sweetness. That better?”

Steve sighs, tucks his face into Eddie’s neck, and goes boneless. “Yeah.”

“See what I mean?” Dustin says, and that’s when they both realize he’d broadcasted their exchange to the rest of the Party.

“There’s something deeply wrong with you, little man,” Max drawls.

Dustin squawks. “Just because you’re taller than me!”

“Yeah, yeah. Yada yada. They’re sweet, is what they are, and maybe if you ever got your head outta your ass where your precious Suzie-poo is concerned-”

“Oh, fuck you, Maxine, and what if your guy hadn’t lived in the same town as you, huh?”

“I’d still be doing better than you!”

“Christ,” Steve mutters, curling a hand into Eddie’s shirt. “Make it stop.”

Eddie ducks down to press a kiss to Steve’s temple. “You bein’ funny or serious?”

“Both,” Steve admits. “But mostly serious.”

Eddie chuckles, then plucks the walkie from Dustin’s grasp. “Alright!” He says. “That’s enough. This is Eddie, Steve, and Dustin, signing off. Over and out.” He twists the knob to turn the walkie off, then tosses it back to Dustin. “Put that away, please,” he says softly.

Dustin turns sad eyes up to Steve. “Did we cause a migraine?” He whispers.

Steve smiles, reaches out to grab Dustin’s shoulder. “Only a little one,” he admits. “Rain check on the rest of today?”

Dustin nods immediately, shoving the walkie into his bag and scent-marking Steve, accepting the same back, and then turning to Eddie with a questioning look.

“Sure, kid,” Eddie chuckles, reaching out and accepting the same. “It was really good to meet you.”

“You too.” He smiles. “I’ve got a key, so don’t worry about locking me out. I’ll get it.”

“Why didn’t you let yourself in?” Steve wonders.

“You told me to knock.”

“When have you ever done something I told you to.”

“…and the key was in my bag and I didn’t want to have to find it.”

“There it is.” Steve sighs fondly, shaking his head. “Never change, Dustin.”

“Never,” Dustin agrees, fishing the key out of his bag and brandishing it at them with a grin. “Call me?”

“I will.”

“M’kay. Bye, Steve. Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, Dustin,” they tell him, and then the door is closed. Eddie listens for the snik of the lock before he moves himself and Steve to lay down on the couch. “You wanna take a little nap, baby?”

Steve hums. “Should go in my room,” he murmurs. “And… need water first.”

Eddie carefully sits them up, helps Steve stand. “Go to your room, baby. I’ll get you water.”

Steve hums, leans into Eddie for a second. “Thank you, Alpha.”

“Omega,” Eddie softly rumbles. “Love you.”

“Love you.” He pushes off Eddie and walks down the hall. Eddie watches him until he’s in his room, then moves to get his water.

The weeks continue. Eddie meets the rest of the Party. He and Max hit it off like a house on fire. Will has a much quieter, though no less sincere, appreciation for him. Steve teases him relentlessly about Mike’s obvious crush on him. “No!” Eddie cries. “He’s a child!”

The weeks continue. Steve is at Eddie’s apartment more than his own now. Robin’s taken to waving a white handkerchief whenever he leaves, like he doesn’t know she’ll be calling Chrissy the moment he’s gone.

The four of them get together fairly often; mandatory Friday movie nights, at the very least, though more often than not they’ll all just congregate at an apartment and stay until it’s far too late.

Steve and Robin’s lease is up soon. And because he tracks his heats, he knows his next one is due right around when their lease is up. “Just move in with Eddie,” Robin tells him. “Chrissy’s lease ends a month after ours. I’ll renew it, and a month in she’ll come live with me.”

“Maybe,” Steve hedges. “I’ll have to talk to Eddie about it.”

She scoffs, rolls her eyes. “Like he’d ever tell you no.”

Steve blushes, because she’s right and he loves it. “I’ll talk to him,” he promises.

“You’d better,” she threatens.

He does. He’s relaxing on the couch with Eddie after dinner when he looks up at him and asks, “Eddie?”

Eddie smiles down at him. “Yeah, baby?”

Steve works his lip. “What do you think of me, maybe, moving in with you?”

Woodsmoke blooms. “How would you feel about it?”

“I really want to,” Steve whispers.

Eddie kisses him. “I do, too,” he whispers back.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Okay.”

“Um. The timing is… really not great. And I don’t know exactly when it’ll be, so it could be before or after mine and Robin’s lease is up, or it could hit, like, the day the lease expires, but.” He takes a breath. “Would you help me through my heat?”

“Baby,” Eddie rumbles, dipping to kiss his gland. “It would be my absolute honor.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #tw stalking #but only a little #starambles

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froggiewrites · 23 hours ago

Text

Puppeteer

Pairing: Doffy x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your life is perfect. Doflamingo has made it that way. But a small slip of the tongue makes you think maybe your husband had more of a hand in the events that lead you to him that you initially thought. Warnings: Fem!Reader, Angst, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Possessive Behavior, Yandere, Doffy is...Doffy Word Count: 7.7k Notes: I've been working on this piece since November, so I'm SO excited to have finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy it!

Your life was perfect. Your husband made sure of it.

You had anything you wanted, when you wanted it, without exception. The life of a queen, even before he had gifted you a crown.

But that wasn’t what mattered to you, really. It was nice, but what you were truly grateful for was how Doflamingo had saved you. From the world, from betrayal, from yourself. You were at risk of falling into a dark place when you met him, and he lifted you up, brought you comfort and protection. To you, his cloak might as well be the wings of an angel.

He insisted that it was nothing. That was simply his job as your lover. He tended to ignore the fact he was not your lover at the time. Destined from the moment you met, you suppose.

“You might not have known it, but you were always mine. I was simply doing what’s right.”

You had always thought that line was sweet. You thought he meant you were destined, that you were his and he was yours.

For the first time in your life, you were having doubts about that.

It was a small slip up. Almost nothing, really. Baby 5 often goes on long tangents, so it’s a wonder you even noticed what she said, let alone processed it. But while extolling the virtues of her latest obsession, claiming this was true love (as they always are), you couldn’t help but notice an odd phrase in the middle.

“He’s so reliable! He was so worried about me, he said I’m ‘too naive’, and that I need someone to look after me. It reminds me of how Doffy is with you! Isn’t it so sweet that he wants to protect me?” She’s beaming, and you can barely get out your question as she tries to continue her ramble.

“Why does he remind you of Doffy?” Your husband is reliable, of course, and he does his best to look out for everyone in the family, but he would never call you naive. He had never, once, in your decade of marriage implied even for a second he thought you were incapable of looking after yourself.

You had asked him once, very early on in your relationship, why he insisted on doing everything for you, why he waited on you hand and foot when he knew that you would never ask that much of him. He had smiled at you gently, an expression you were sure no other person on the planet had seen, and spoken with such fondness you couldn’t help but melt. “I do this because I love you, little bird. You don’t need to read anything else into it.”

So when Baby 5 smiles again, saying, “He looks at me the way Doffy looks at you,” you can’t help the way your heart drops. You haven’t met this suitor, but you know the way men look at Baby 5. She isn’t a partner to them, she’s a target. A victim. Prey to be lured in and devoured. Your instinct is to say this is simply another delusion on her part, another desperate illusion from her need to be needed. But the way she says it, the look in her eye, it seems far more based in reality than the rest of her spiel.

But that can’t be right. Your husband loves you, respects you. This is just another part of Baby 5’s incurable lovesickness, her romanticization of any man that gets his claws in her. “The way he looks at me, huh?”

“Yeah! It’s so romantic.” And then she’s off to the races again, completely unaware of the seed she’s planted.

You can’t dig it up, no matter how hard you try. Once a thought is in your head it cannot be unthought. So instead you bury it, as deeply as you can, and you pray that it will not take root, will not be strong enough to break through the soil. You love your husband, your life together. You will not ruin it through unearned paranoia.

When he comes to bed that night, he finds you lying awake, staring at the ceiling. His voice and hands are gentle, as they always are with you. He has never spoken to you the way he does most people, has always given you the kindness he denies others. He still has a temper, of course, but on the very rare occasions it has turned to you it has been mild, and the apology has been quick.

“What’s wrong, little bird?” He lays next to you, his arm immediately coming to wrap around you. The weight is comforting, familiar, something that has made you feel safe for as long as you can remember. You try to relax into him, but a voice in you whispers we’re trapped. You feel like you can’t breathe. You want to ignore it, suffer in silence, but your ever observant husband notices immediately, removing his arm with a frown. “Did something happen?”

You sit up, moving toward the window. You need air. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just anxious, is all.”

“Anxious?” His frown deepens. “Darling, you have nothing to worry about. What is it? Let me help.” He follows you, reaching around you to open the window for you, letting the night air in. Your turn to face him. With his arms on either side, his eyes flashing in the moonlight, for a moment you feel like nothing more than an animal in a cage, with a predator bearing down on you.

But then the cold air hits your back, those terrifying eyes are filled with concern, and your husband is back. Of course everything is alright. Of course you have nothing to worry about. You’re happy. Doffy has made sure of it. “It’s just…a horrible feeling I can’t shake. Nothing is actually wrong, I promise.”

He purses his lips a moment, displeased. “If you need something, you’ll have it. You know that, right?” His hand rests on your cheek, cradling you as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. To him, you truly are.

“I know, my love. I promise, it really is nothing.”

He lets out the smallest puff of a sigh. “Alright. I’ll let it go for now. Come back to bed, darling. I won’t be able to sleep without you.” His words start as an order, but his tone turns almost pleading. Doflamingo does not beg, of course, but for you he can at least command politely.

“Of course.” You practically fall into his arms, allowing him to carry you back to your bed. He holds you tightly, as though he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers the moment he loosens his grip. For a moment you swear you see some tension around his eyes, a slight clench of his jaw, but when you rest your head on his chest it all seems to vanish.

“Goodnight, little bird,” he whispers, pressing the ghost of a kiss to your temple. You fall asleep pressed firmly against his chest, where you’re meant to be.

You bury your doubts. You love him. He loves you. Why is such a small comment enough to throw you? Do you have that little faith in your husband?

Or did it simply uncover concerns you were ignoring? Force them into the light of day when you would much rather have let them rot?

You’re happy. What else could you want or need?

A month passes, then two. You’ve forgotten the conversation. You must have. You don’t lay awake at night, overturning small interactions in your head, desperate to find some hidden meaning in it.

He always calls you little. Is it simple affection, or is it demeaning? Does he see you as less than?

Of course not. Not your Doffy.

“I think I might want to visit home.” You bring it up casually, as you’re tucked against his chest. He’s in his throne, lounging, perfectly relaxed, with you perched on his lap.

He laughs. “Darling, you are home.”

“I know. I mean–I want to visit my home island.”

A miniscule tightening around his eyes. “Why would you want to do that? After everything that they put you through?”

You knew he wouldn’t be keen on the idea. You can’t even figure out why you want to go back, because he’s right: they put you through hell. You were miserable before Doffy got you out of there. Your home had chewed you up and spit you out, and there’s nothing left for you there. It really wasn’t home at all, not anymore. Doffy never liked you referring to it as such.

But a few bad years can’t erase everything it was before the fall. You can remember your childhood, sprinting through the most beautiful flower fields with your friends. Diving into the creek, coming up soaking wet, freezing cold, and feeling freer than you had since. You remember the taste of the pastries at the cafe you used to work at, the same one you met Doflamingo at. In many ways, it was still and would always be home, no matter how long you had been away. No matter what the people there might have done to you.

“I know everything ended terribly, but…”

“But?” A raised brow, a slightly bulging vein on his forehead.

“I still have a lot of good memories from before. Places I miss. People I might be able to forgive, if I saw them again.”

His nostrils flare. His controlled smile finally falls. “Forgive? Darling, they don’t deserve your forgiveness. They don’t even deserve to live in the same world as you, let alone have the privilege of seeing you again. This has been a fun joke and all, but let’s end it here. Going there will only hurt you.” His arm tightens slightly around your waist, hugging you to him protectively.

Possessively, part of your mind whispers.

“It’s been nearly a decade, love. I’ve changed. I’m sure they’ve changed. And…I feel like all of that still hangs over me, sometimes. Even though I’ve tried to let it go. I think going back to see it would help me finally loosen the hold it has over me.”

He doesn’t say no, because you hadn’t been asking for permission. You were simply informing him of your thoughts. He couldn’t make your choices for you. He had never taken away your ability to decide, not once. But somehow his displeasure makes your heart quicken, your stomach churn. When Doffy is displeased, something in you screams that you’ve done something wrong, something you need to fix. You didn’t do anything that he would disagree with, not if you could help it. You always told yourself it was simply because you were partners, that it was natural that you would factor in his opinion.

But how many times had he asked you about his comings and goings? How many times had he told you his plans, instead of just disappearing and reappearing when he decided the time was right?

“You should protect that delicate heart of yours, darling. Who knows what going back would do to it?”

“But I’m different now. Older. Stronger.”

He chuckles, like you’ve told him some silly joke. “But still soft.”

You want to disagree, but there’s something in his tone that makes you feel so horribly small. Weak and vulnerable, some storybook damsel waiting for your prince (or king, in this case) to come sweep you away and fix everything for you. “Do you really think that?”

His eyes narrow slightly at the tone in your voice, the hurt hiding beneath it. His own voice grows softer in turn. “You’re a sensitive soul. It’s one of your best qualities, dear.”

You nod, pushing your face into his neck. You can feel him relax beneath you as you desperately try to stop your thoughts from racing. Are you sensitive, weak, soft? You cannot recall anyone else ever calling you such things. You had been so headstrong when you were young. Perhaps that’s what drove everyone away.

You clutch his shirt tightly, as though tethering yourself to him will simply fix all of this, calm your mind and bring back the peace you used to enjoy. That’s how you got all of this in the first place, really. A strong hand on your back, guiding you away from the burning flames of your old life.

The feeling doesn’t leave. It infuriates you how deeply it’s weaseled its way into you, such a small thing turning over and over and over in your mind. Something so meaningless threatening to pull you apart at the seams. You can feel your edges fraying, feel the way you’re starting to fall apart.

You can still hear Baby 5’s voice whispering in your head. Just like how Doffy looks at you.

For the first time in your life, you intend to keep a secret from your husband. You scribble the messages quickly, shoving the papers back into your desk when you hear footsteps coming down the hall. You know that you aren’t doing anything wrong, but the idea of disappointing him, disagreeing with him, makes you sick to your stomach.

It’s only once you feel his hand on your shoulder, see his pursed lips as he looms over you where you were lost in your work that you remember that the reason you have never kept a secret from your husband is simply because you couldn’t. He knows everything about you, everything that happens under this room, everything happening within the borders of Dressrosa. You never stood a chance.

“Darling…” he doesn’t need to continue. His sigh says enough, sets you on the defensive.

“I never said I wouldn’t send them,” you mutter, a childish anger overtaking you. “And I don’t need your permission.”

His lips set in a thin line. “I never said you did.”

“It’s been nearly a decade. They’ve probably changed. And if they haven’t, then at least I can say I tried.”

His free hand pinches the bridge of his nose as his brow furrows. “Little bird, you’re the only one who ever tried. They never gave you a thing.”

“They gave me plenty.”

“What, then, did they give you? Pain? Suffering? An unending desire to please everyone around you?”

“They gave me plenty, before everything happened.” You can feel your muscles tensing, an unfamiliar anger bubbling up in your chest.

“I can’t recall a single kind thing they ever did for you, my dear.”

“I had a life before you, Doflamingo,” you snap. “Do you really think I’m so helplessly stupid I’d try to reconnect with someone who was nothing but cruel to me? They used to be kind. They used to care about me. Something changed. And if something changes once, it can change again. I’m not some doe-eyed fool begging for a kind touch from a hand that’s only ever bruised me. I’m just going to give them a chance to redeem themselves, or at least explain themselves.” You’re breathing heavily, teeth clenching. You very rarely raise your voice at your husband, but you’re tired of this. Of him looking at you like you’re so defenseless, so pathetic.

There’s a strange look in his eyes when you finish, something you can’t place. He takes his hands off of you, putting them up in surrender. “Of course, dear. I didn’t mean to imply you were incapable. I simply worry about my wife.” There’s an emphasis on his last words, on your title, your role. “But I suppose I shouldn’t presume to know about…your life before me.”

He spits the words like they’re poison in his mouth.

He stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before you realize the situation you’re in. You’re the one keeping secrets. You’re the one who snapped. You’re the one who wouldn’t drop the issue. You, you, you. A part of you screams that he’s the one who pushed you, but aren’t you still the one who jumped?

“...I’m sorry, love, for snapping. I know you worry.”

He doesn’t move.

“I understand why you’re concerned, really. I just…this feels like something I have to do.”

Still nothing.

“If they don’t respond, then I’ll drop it. I just want to take a chance.”

He lets out a breath, before he wraps his arms around you. “Of course, dear.” His grip on you grows a little tighter. “I just can’t help but want to protect you. It’s my job, after all. And I take it very seriously.”

“I know. I appreciate the sentiment, I just wish you trusted me a bit more.”

His voice grows softer. “Oh, dear, of course I trust you. It’s everyone else that I don’t trust.” He chuckles quietly. “Well, if it’s really that important to you, I won’t stand in your way. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

You sigh, burying your nose in his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And so the envelopes are sealed the next day, handed off to a servant to be shipped off.

You keep telling yourself the letters don’t mean anything. Don’t have anything to do with the creeping dread slowly overtaking you. This is simply an act of connection, of potential forgiveness. It has nothing to do with your home life. But you can’t deny the way your eyes keep nervously drifting over each envelope labeled with your name, the disappointment when it never has the return address you were hoping for. Weeks pass, then months.

Whenever he catches you lingering near the mailbox, Doffy always gives you a sympathetic look, a small click of the tongue. “Don’t you see, darling? You expect too much of them. You give people far more credit than they deserve.”

“It’s all the way in the North Blue. Mail can take a while to get there.” You don’t sound convincing, even to your own ears.

He sighs. “I hate seeing you hurt yourself like this, dear.” He approaches from behind, wrapping his arms around you, tucking you tightly against him, rocking you slightly. “Don’t give your attention to those unworthy of it. You have everyone and everything you need right here.”

He’s right. He’s always right.

You wait anyway.

The letters never come.

You expected this, it stings anyway. Even now, they can’t even spare you a thought. Your life was ripped to shreds, and they can’t even give you this. You don’t even exist in their memories anymore. You’re the only one who carries this pain, and you do it alone.

You try to talk to Doffy about it again, and while he plays the doting husband, you can see the satisfaction in his eyes. The pity in his face as he cradles you, the condescending, “Oh, dear, I knew you’d hurt yourself like this. You don’t need them," just screams I told you so. You can only be thankful he doesn’t say it aloud, his smile all teeth as he chuckles and pets your head like some pampered pet.

But he wouldn’t do that. He loves you.

The restlessness you feel doesn’t subside. You’ve taken to wandering aimlessly through the palace, as though you’ll suddenly find the answers hiding around a dusty corner and you’ll find the peace you so desperately crave. You want normalcy again. You want to lay in your husband’s arms and not wonder how much of his softened gaze and gentle caress is a lie, a carefully constructed act meant to keep you where he wants you. You know it isn’t true, really.

But the gnawing continues all the same.

The answers you wished for come in the form of an overfilled trash can.

You occasionally bring snacks to Doflamingo while he’s working. He doesn’t like you being in his office for long, preferring to keep you separated from the messy goings on of his work life, but you can tell he enjoys these small visits. Sometimes, on days when he isn’t busy, he pulls you onto his lap, allowing you to curl into him and enjoy the feeling of safety in his arms as he fills out miscellaneous paperwork or checks over maps. You used to cherish those moments.

Today’s conversation is brief, Doflamingo’s frustration with some issue or another clear in his every action. His teeth are clenched even as he thanks you, even as his lips brush against your temple before you turn to leave. You can’t help the jitteriness you feel, the way his discomfort sends a buzzing through your body. Once he makes it clear you cannot fix the issue (in as gentle of a tone as he’s capable of), you’re ready to make your escape, to hope the nausea subsides once you’re far enough away. You’re so upset you almost miss the envelope in the trashcan next to the door, no writing visible except for the return address.

It’s from a little island in the North Blue, known for its beautiful flower fields.

You can’t help the choked noise that escapes your throat.

“Are you alright?” His eyes glance up from the paper in front of him, the slightest hint of concern behind them.

“What’s this?” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your hand begins to reach for the trashcan, but you pull it back at the last second. No, it can’t be. And if it is, you don’t want to know.

“What’s what, darling?”

He wouldn’t do this to you. It’s a coincidence. There’s dozens of businesses on the island, many of which might be useful for a king and even more useful for a pirate. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, do this to you.

“This letter.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, your hands shaking. The only thing that keeps you from exploding is the genuine confusion on his face. “What letter?”

You fish it out of the trashcan, slowly bringing it back to him. It’s covered in spilled ink which has soaked through the paper. It’s clear that the letter inside is ruined, and the only thing you can make out on the front is a street name and the island. “Why was this in the trash?”

He frowns, his brow furrowing. He reaches for it, investigating it so thoroughly you can convince yourself this is the first time he’s seen it. It’s only when his gaze falls to the address that his eyes light up in understanding. “Oh. Oh, dear.”

“Was this for me?”

“I don’t know, dear, but there’s certainly a chance.” His voice is gentle as he reaches for you. “I’m sorry if it was. I don’t know what happened.”

It’s unlike him to apologize. It’s unlike him to admit to not knowing, to not being in absolute control. But god, you want it to be true. You want the comfort he offers. You fall into him, pressing your face into his chest, barely holding back a sob. “What if it was? What if that’s the only response I’ll get, and it’s gone forever? What if my only chance at peace has slipped through my fingers?”

His hands are gentle as they rub circles on your back. “I’ll figure out what happened. I promise whoever did this will be punished, little bird. I’ll never tolerate someone hurting you.” His lips brush against the top of your head, kind and caring and protective, exactly how you’ve always known him to be. “I had others in my office earlier, I’m sure one of them did this. I’ll find out who.”

It takes him nearly an hour to calm you down, but he does it without rushing. All of his work, his empire, set aside for you. How could you doubt him, even for a moment, with your proof of his devotion right here?

He tucks you gently into your shared bed after you calmed down, encouraging you to take a nap to recuperate. A glass of water is left by the bedside for you, and he places an extra blanket on top of you to keep you warm and cozy.

You don’t know how long your nap is. It certainly isn’t long, considering the sun is still in the sky, but it was enough to ease the pounding in your head from the sobbing. You aren’t thinking as you crawl out of bed and begin to wander in the direction of your husband’s office. You’re still a little upset, a little off kilter, and while it may be selfish to interrupt him twice in a day you want to bask in his care a bit more.

An angry voice stops you in your tracks.

“You threw them out?” He sounds furious, his voice booming down the hall. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, should trust your husband to take care of it, but you linger near the door anyway.

“You said to get rid of them!” You don’t recognize the voice, but you recognize the fear. It’s how everyone sounds in front of Doflamingo, faced with his power and grace. With the knowledge he wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever he needed to them to get what he wanted.

“Yes, and I expected you to do it right! Burn them, rip them up, whatever it takes! To make sure nobody finds them! Not leave them sitting at the top of a trash can, in my office, where anybody can see them! I’m used to being surrounded by fools, but this is beyond comprehension!” You hear the cracking of wood, and somehow you know he’s broken his desk. As much as you want to stay and hear the rest, the bile rising in your throat forces you away, back to your room, where you can hide under the covers and finally break down.

He had been taking your letters. You knew that, really, but you had so badly wanted to convince yourself otherwise. He had made sure you would never want to go back, simply because he didn’t want you to. He took your choice away. Why was he so desperate to keep you here? What harm was there in you finally letting go of everything that happened?

You had been miserable. You had spent years terrified that Doflamingo would abandon you next, just like your family and friends did. You had clutched him so tightly your knuckles turned white, and he had cooed and assured you he would never leave you, not like they did. “I love you, little bird. You’re mine. It’s my job to protect and care for you, and I intend to do that for the rest of my life.”

Is that how he wanted you? Insecure and desperate to remain at his side? Perhaps he loved you because you were easy. So eager to please, to bend yourself to his will until you nearly snap as long as it keeps him around, keeps anybody around. Maybe he was as desperate as you were, in a way, because it didn’t have to be him you latched onto.

You bite your cheek hard enough to draw blood. No more thoughts like that. It had to be Doflamingo. He was your husband, your family, and nothing can take that away. Not even this betrayal. Surely he thought he was doing what was best for you. He may be selfish, but never when it comes to you.

This was controlling, it was wrong, but it wasn’t cruel. And as loathe as you are to admit it, it wasn’t out of character. He’s always been in control, his entire life. It wouldn’t seem wrong to him for that to extend to some of yours.

You should go in and talk to him. You should figure out why he would do this. Some twisted form of protection? Jealousy? Fear? You should do something, anything, to get to the bottom of this.

You crawl back into bed instead.

You accept his embrace when he joins you. You don’t push him away when he rolls on top of you, whispering how much he loves you, how happy he is that you’re his. You fall asleep in his arms, as you’ve always done.

You spent months begging the universe for answers, for some sort of proof, and now that you’ve gotten it, you’re sticking your head in the sand. What a coward. You can’t even bring yourself to be angry with him. Maybe you’re in shock, or maybe he’s just done such a good job at clipping your wings you simply don’t know what to do without him, and you don’t care to find out. You tell yourself you just love him, trust him. You ignore any whisper in your head that says the contrary.

The days pass normally, as quickly as they always do. You almost feel normal, after a while, have almost convinced yourself that everything is fine, as it’s always been.

The bird at your window is a surprise. It taps hurriedly, almost as though it’s afraid to tarry for too long. The letter tied to its leg somehow isn’t.

The script is hurried and messy. You recognize it immediately. It was written by a boy you had once run through the wild with, one you had shared every step of growing up with. It was his betrayal that had hurt the most.

The letter is nearly impossible to decipher. Your friend always did have terrible handwriting. You used to tease him for how nobody else could figure out what he meant, how sometimes even he couldn’t read his own writing. But you were always good at it, somehow always on the same page as him, no matter how small his chicken scratch was.

I didn’t expect to hear from you ever again. I’m glad I did. I’ve missed you, all of these years. I’ve wondered if you were safe, if you were happy.

I’m sorry for my cowardice. I’m sorry for pushing you away. But I was scared. That pirate made himself very clear: get away from you, or he was going to kill me.

No.

No, no, no.

No, that can’t be right.

I don’t know if he meant it. But with everything else that came after, I suspect he did. I don’t know what he said to your landlord, or your boss, or anyone else. But I know he spoke to them, and I know you were gone soon after. I’m sorry I was never brave enough to tell you in person, or to send you this letter until now. I didn’t know where you went, and I was sure you’d never want to speak to me again anyway.

I’m glad you’re safe, or as safe as you can be. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I would be now, if I could. Not that that means much, really.

You place the paper down, shoving your head in your hands. No. This can’t be true. He may be controlling, he may be overprotective, but he would never hurt you. Not like this. Your husband would never have purposefully made you miserable. He would do a lot, but not that.

But you can’t help but remember how perfect his timing was, every time. How he’d gently encouraged you to open up in the days after you realized your friends were ignoring you. How he found you sobbing outside of the cafe after you’d been fired. How he found you idly wandering the streets after your landlord kicked you out. How he found you every time, right on time, assuring you that you didn’t need to worry anymore, that you could just rely on him now. That he always looked after his family, and he would love for you to be a part of it.

You look back on your life together. Had you ever made the choice to be here, or did he simply lure you in with the right bait every time? How many steps had you taken without realizing he was the one leading you here?

You could excuse a lot, deny even more. You can tell yourself again and again that he loved you, that everything he’s done has been for your own good. But hurting you? Hurting the people you loved? Even you couldn’t justify that.

He doesn’t even look up when you walk into his office. He hums quietly in acknowledgement, his pen scratching softly against the page. It’s only when you furiously slam the letter down on his desk that he finally looks at you.

“What’s this, darling?”

“I finally got a response. An intact one.”

He glances down at it, sneering slightly. “Intact? Dear, that’s illegible.”

“Did you threaten my friends for talking to me?”

He’s an excellent liar, a well practiced one. But you’ve known him for a decade, spent hours staring at him, starry eyed, tracking his every move. You can see the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“How many people have you done this to, Doflamingo?”

He huffs. “None. What are you talking about? Who said this to you?”

“Why do you want to know? So you can make good on your promise to hurt him?” You begin to pace, fury bubbling beneath your skin. “I can’t believe you would do this.”

“I want to know so I can know who you’re believing over your own husband.” He puts on an air of hurt, one that tugs at your heartstrings, but you won’t fall this time.

“I have tried to believe in you again and again, pushing down my doubt because I was so sure my husband would never do anything like this. But the evidence just keeps coming.”

“What evidence, exactly?” He snaps, annoyance slipping through. “The crazed ranting of some jealous old acquaintance? One who hurt you beyond repair a decade ago?”

“The first goddamn letter you tried to get rid of, first off all.” He opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Don’t try to deny it, I heard you losing your mind on whoever you told to do it. I tried so hard to tell myself you were doing it out of some misguided attempt to protect me, but this proves you just did it to protect yourself. You just didn’t want me to know what you’d done.”

He sighs. “Dear, you’re working yourself up into a frenzy. You couldn’t have heard something that never happened.”

“Don’t lie to me! God, you must think I’m so stupid. You always have. And why wouldn’t you? I’ve fallen for everything, this entire time! I kept telling myself that this was normal, that you loved me, that this was what I wanted. I was so scared of losing you I let you look me in the eye and lie to me every goddamn day.”

“You want the truth?” He’s standing now, walking around the desk that separated you. “Can you handle that, dear? We can’t take back our words.”

You barely suppress the frustrated sob working its way out of your mouth. “Yes, please, give me the truth. That’s all I want.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, the way it always does. God, he has to make this so hard. “I’ll always give you what you want.” He reaches out, but you take a step back. He gives you your space, for now. “When we first met, I may have had a few…long talks with some people you knew. Just to make my intentions clear.”

“How many people?”

“I can’t recall exact numbers.”

“Are you why I lost my job at the cafe?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”

“Are you why I got evicted?”

“Yes.”

You curl in on yourself. “God. What the hell? Why would you do this to me?” You can feel your world crashing down as every memory of the last ten years is tainted, rotting from the inside out. It was never real. None of it. “Why would you ruin my life? What did I ever do to you? Why did you pick me up after like some stray dog? Did you feel guilty?”

You expected anger. He was always prone to it, after all. You had expected his tense shoulders and gnashing teeth, a fierce insistence that you were wrong to be upset, to question him. That he was right like always, and that anything he did was simply the best option to some grand end goal you couldn’t see. What you hadn't anticipated was the confusion: the look on his face so lost it was almost childlike. "Ruin your life? You wanted this. I gave you what you wanted."

"You think I wanted–what, to be miserable?”

He has the audacity to look concerned. “Are you miserable? You’re supposed to be happy.”

“Happy? You hurt people! Hurt me!"

He bristles at that. "I never hurt you. You are my wife, my family, my responsibility. I look out for you. I protect you. Those obstacles were–"

"Obstacles? Doflamingo, they were people!”

“They’re nothing compared to you.”

You feel like you’re slamming your head into the wall. What is he not getting? Why does he not seem to think he’s done anything wrong? Why would he hide it if he thought he was right? “Nothing? I–God. What would ever make you think I wanted any of this?"

"You told me yourself!" He says it with such conviction.

You’re about to scream, to run out of this office and into the night, never to be seen again. He must be insane. More than you ever thought possible.

But suddenly you remember it. A small conversation, a month or two after you first met. You didn’t even know his name yet, only knew him as the handsome blond who always tipped well. He had been sipping his coffee slowly, an excuse to keep occupying the table and, in turn, you. His question had seemed so innocent then.

"Do you want to leave this place?"

"What?"

"Are you happy here, I mean. Do you really want to stay here, working yourself to the bone, when you could be living in the lap of luxury?"

You laugh. "I don't know what kind of luxury I could get so easily. Things like that don't just come to people like me. I have bills to pay."

He hums quietly. "But if it could come? Would you really still be here if you had someone to take care of you? If you didn't have to worry about all of this?"

You give a sardonic smile as you wipe down his table. "Mister, you say it like it's so easy. I have things to do, people to help. I couldn't leave them behind just because it'd be better for me."

You can't see them through his sunglasses, but somehow you feel his eyes pierce through you anyway. "But if all of that wasn't a concern? Then you'd want to leave?"

"Sure, in that fantasy world, I'd love to see what the world has to offer. But I live here, in reality, and I have another table glaring at me, so I'll be back in a few minutes."

And that was it. Such a small exchange, barely worth noting.

You never thought much of the conversation. You really didn't. But sitting here, now, you're starting to see it for what it was to him: permission. An invitation to do whatever he thought would get you here. Why wouldn't a pirate act on such an opportunity?

You can barely swallow the bile rising in your throat.

“You couldn’t have possibly–” Your voice catches, and through his frustration you see something almost resembling pity peek through for just a moment. Somehow that’s the most infuriating part of all of this.

“Couldn’t have what? Thought you were being honest? I knew you were, darling. I knew you were meant to be here. I knew you would never have taken the first step with everyone in that shithole holding you down. What was I supposed to do? Leave you there?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what you should have fucking done! You don’t ruin lives over a stupid flight of fucking fancy–”

“Don’t call it that.” There’s that oh so familiar rage. His teeth clenched, his nails digging into his fists, his eyes burning so hot from behind his glasses you can feel the room raise a couple degrees. “Don’t you dare demean what we have. Don’t dismiss the last ten years. You are my wife. My partner. Mine.”

He’s stalking toward you, long past worrying about frightening you.

“Don’t you dare treat my devotion like some schoolboy’s crush.”

You think you would laugh if your heart were not beating out of your chest. Before today, you would have sworn your husband would never hurt you. But now, you don’t know if you can trust anything you think. Not anymore. Clearly you’re an idiot, naive and foolish, incapable of sensing danger even when it’s right in front of you. So when he reaches for you, you flinch.

He has the gall to look hurt. His posture relaxes as he reaches for you again, slower this time. His hands reach to delicately cradle your face, but you pull away, curling in on yourself. “Don’t touch me.”

“Darling–”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me. I’m not your darling. I don’t even know who you are. My entire life is a lie.” You barely manage to hold in a sob. He boxes you in, trying to pull you into his arms, wash away your pain as he always does. You fall to the floor, curling into a ball, desperately trying to avoid him. This familiar softness might break you. “Don’t touch me.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, but he doesn’t back away. “Your life isn’t a lie, little bird. Everything that matters is still true: I’m your husband and I love you.”

“Do you?”

The corner of his eye twitches. “Of course I do. Do you think I would do all of this for anyone? Only for you, my dear. Only you’re worth all of this. I’m sorry for frightening you, but I promise everything I have ever done is for you.” His voice is soft and cautious, as though he’s trying to lure in a wounded animal. You suppose in a way he is.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You pull yourself in tighter, your nails digging into your legs, the pain the only thing grounding you.

“You didn’t have to do anything. You were mine from the moment I saw you.” He says it with a dreamy tone, one that could be easily confused for a normal husband, so deeply in love with his wife. But beneath it there’s an obsession, a depravity to it.

“I don’t want to be yours.” The pitiful protest of a child, weak and wavering.

“Oh, darling, you don’t mean that.” He bends down to look you in the eye, put himself on your level. The condescension sets your teeth on edge. “I know you’re upset, dear, but you shouldn’t say things like that. A lesser man would be hurt.”

“A better man would believe me.”

You see the flash of rage that he swallows down before he opens his mouth again. “You’re lucky I’m patient, lover. Who knows what would happen if I took these little provocations seriously.”

“You never take me seriously.” So much of your life spent under the thumb of a man who didn’t even trust you to choose him yourself. Who didn’t trust you to choose a life together.

“You’re clearly overwhelmed. Take a minute to collect yourself.”

He didn’t disagree. So many lies for so many years, but he can’t give you the one you really want to hear.

“I want to go home.” Your voice is so pathetic, so broken.

“You are home.” His voice is gentle, but firm. A statement, a command beneath it. He leaves no room for disagreement.

“No. No, I’m not.” You close your eyes, picturing fields of your childhood. The smell of the flowers, the feeling of the sunlight on your face. The last time you had truly been free.

“You’re home, and you aren’t leaving.”

You feel yourself being pulled forward, your arms moving of their own volition.

No, not their own.

His.

His strings force your arms around him as he engulfs you in a suffocating embrace. His voice is no less sickeningly adoring than it was before. "Do what you want to me, darling. Hate me, fear me, hurt me. Rip me to shreds with your own two hands if you wish. But don't you dare leave me. You can do whatever you want as long as you're home safe."

Your voice trembles as you whisper, "And what if I wanted to leave?"

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, the condescending amusement of someone hearing a child wish for the impossible. "You don't. If you wanted to leave, you wouldn't have come here. Wouldn't have confronted me. Hell, you would have left the moment you found that first letter. Face it, little bird, you chose your cage. You love it here."

"But if I really wanted to?"

He smiles, all teeth. "Then I'd find you and bring you home.”

When he leans down to kiss you, you don’t have the energy to pull away. You can’t even feel afraid anymore as a deep sense of resignation washes over you. Ten years. Ten years of your life, gone if you leave. Your past burned under Doflamingo’s watchful eye, ensuring you have nowhere to return. Where else can you rest except your marriage bed?

It is that same bed he carries you to now, as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. The same bed where he takes you, as he has all these years. The same bed you’re pinned to, weighed down by an arm thrown across your waist. Despite everything, despite the fear and rage choking you, the feeling is somehow comforting.

Neither of you speak of it the next morning. What is there to say, really?

Your life is perfect. Your husband has made it so.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

#doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #donquixote doflamingo #one piece x reader #x reader #doflamingo x y/n #one piece #op

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4rticbolt · 1 day ago

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Card DECLINED |Master-List|

Monster Trio+Law x !Fem!Reader, crack, fluff, modern-au, poor core (real), cashier is going THROUGH IT, !Early-relationship! , Ugh I thought this was so adorable, might be my favorite so far

They take you on a date and there card declines in-front of you...

Lemme know if I should do a fic for one of em' :)! (And spelling mistakes)

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

Luffy

100% bought it all on fast food, he holds a Guinness World Record for the most amount of food eaten, period.

Would be confused at first, and wouldn't get it till you finally told him somethings wrong with his card. He about shoved it in there 100x times...

"HAH!? Why's it not working!''

"Wait huh seriously? Aww man..."

He'd definitely apologize and laugh it off. But he'd silent judge his card for failing him now as he attempted to finally buy you something. He ould definitely go and text Nami to Venmo him some quick money for you--in which she'd automatically decline.

(Much like his card)

Your bf would grumble, but he'd be quick to mask it with his short attention span.

He ended up dragging you into another random store after finding a whopping 5 bucks on the ground, sopping wet and crumpled from the rain... But somehow the cashier accepted it out of pity and he'd managed to buy you a little doodad in exchange--coming up behind you with a surprise in hand.

He giddily spun you around gleaming with excitement as he pecked you on the cheek.

"Shisihi, look what I got youuu! It's awesome"

(It was a crooked hot-wheels, but you ended up putting it on your shelf to cherish it)

Zoro

Sake was his downfall. Alcohol as we all know is incredibly expensive so it wasn't even a surprise, you expected it to eventually happen with how much he loved his booze...

Moreover you'd think it was a turn off with all his bottles but he'd always been a responsible drinker, and he barely got drunk...maybe a few times if he'd finally eased up in your arms.

Though when he swiped his card, it hadn't gone through. He'd pause and play it off a first, trying again, but when the cashier finally told him their were insufficient funds he'd go beet red.

"I don't know what you're talking about, it's gotta be your stupid machine..."

Not slick, at. all.

He'd act dense abt it, though deep down he knew he royally fucked up, so much for a romantic date...

When you finally offered to pay, he stubbornly grumbled as you had placed some spare cash on the counter.

"Oi, You didn't have to do that..."

He wouldn't immediately say thank you, but he'd been quietly grateful you were smart to bring 'just in case' cash... which he'd also said wasn't necceasry... but look what happened.

You tended to be right in these scenarios.

Eventually, a few days later he'd begrudgingly said thank you and handed you some floppy but colorful flowers as he had randomly stopped by your house to work.

Coincidently getting lost, but he'd never admit it.

The offering was rather chaotic as you'd just gotten out of the shower, but it only made him more flustered.

"Didn't uh, mean to interrupt, just wanted to drop these off. And thank you for the other day."

Sanji

I physically cannot see this man's card declining, so he had probably used the wrong card...

But even if he did I could see him full on freaking out, like telling the cashier to run it again and crossing his arms as his fingers anxiously tapped on his arm. He almost went to call his bank until he realized it wasn't his main card and his embarrassed meter went through the roof.

He went pink, but as you offered to pay he immediately shut it down. Sanji would never let you pay for anything, he wanted to take care of you and spoil you like no other--so forget asking. Even if you weren't that far along in dating.

He'd rather search the floor for pennies than letting you pay.

Though if you did somehow manage to pay, he'd pay you back beyonddd extra. Like I'm talking about full on flowers and little chocolates or anything romantic you could imagine...

Even if you thought it was rude to accept, he'd quickly assure you it was okay and that 'he wanted to' so it didn't matter if it was 'payback' or not. He'd came over to hand out and he'd gently grab your hand kissing it as he spoke with gentle words.

"My love, just take it please, it'd mean the world to me."

Law

Law's card wouldn't normally decline, but one of his transactions for his action figure(s) had finally come through and he didn't realized it till he'd taken you out for lunch.

The waiter had handed him back his card and he deadpanned for a moment--before telling them to try it again--but hopelessly it didn't make a difference. And to make things better the waiter outright said he was broke and needed a different form of payment.

Law would loathe the moment, feeling second-hand embarrassment for miles as he brooded wishing it happened anywhere else no mattering the time.

He'd be in embarrassed, growing quiet with a darkened expression as he averted his gaze. And it only intensified when you happily handed the waiter your card, assuring him it wasn't the end of the world... and that you were just happy to be here with him.

He had gone increasingly quiet, and you couldn't help but laugh as he covered his face with the tilt of his infamous hat.

"L-Let's just go."

This man would NEVER let it happen again, and he'd carefully watch his guilty spending habits with a sour expression. The thought of that moment practically kept him up at night.

Law didn't pay you back, but he'd taken a little time off work to spend more quality time with you as that seemed to make you happy. And your doctor-in-training wanted nothing more than to see your smile.

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vellazx · 1 day ago

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Reincarnated!Roger Luffy x Reincarnated!Rouge Reader — a small drabble of mine!

It was hard working for the Navy, whenever the man whom you adored so dearly was bound to be your enemy for life.

How it happened? It was a long story… And you couldn’t quite put it all into words.

It started two years ago, all the way back in Alabasta, when you were sent out for a job with your coworker, Smoker.

The two of you could be considered as ‘friends’. He rambled to you the whole way there about a wanted pirate who went by the name of ‘Straw Hat Luffy’, at the time bearing a 30 million Berry bounty.

He was just a rookie. It would be easy for someone of your rank to take him down. You were respected by even the three Admirals themselves, probably only a level below them in terms of power.

So why was it that when you did come face to face with him, the two of you just locked eyes, as if entranced by each other.

Your heart skipped a beat in that very moment. And for some reason, he smiled at you, making your sudden jittery behavior and nervousness a thousand times worse.

You were so ashamed of yourself. You allowed him to simply run past you with that toothy grin of his, beaming with confidence and recklessness.

Smoker didn’t let you off lightly after watching that scene. But you didn’t argue against him, no. You fully believed you deserved it.

But why did that happen in the first place? He was a pirate, and you didn’t take yourself as the type to fall in love at first sight. You’ve never done that.

You couldn’t continue to help Smoker and the swordswoman always by his side, Tashigi, in capturing the Straw Hats. Especially their captain.

It was like your body acted on its own, forcing you to leave. After that encounter, you endured a mental crisis for nearly an entire month.

He just felt so… familiar. It unsettled you.

Why did it feel like you had met him before?

After Alabasta, you somehow ended getting tied up in his daily pirate schemes, as if you just couldn’t escape him.

Sabaody Archipelago, the Navy Headquarters, Punk Hazard… You could name even more times that you’ve met with him in abnormal circumstances.

And every time you fought him, every accidental brush of hands that made your cheeks heat up, your feelings got worse, and worse, and worse…

Why him?

Of all people, why him?

To make things worse, you could feel yourself… distancing from your duty. Your job. Like he was influencing you.

You started thinking weird things, strange things.

‘The World Government? I don’t trust them.’

You didn’t trust them? Yes you did. They wanted justice for the world, and you did, too.

‘They’re corrupted.’

No they aren’t.

‘In the name of justice? Don’t make me laugh. They don’t care about justice… They only want power.’

It was like there was a second voice in your head. An alter ego, almost…

All the while, in the midst of those thoughts… Your mind always reeled back to him. His stupid face that made your heart flutter. That smile of his, that was so infectious you couldn’t help but return a smile, which you didn’t realize most of the time.

He would point it out mid-fight, too.

“Hey, you’re smiling!”

“You’re seeing things, Straw Hat!”

You also couldn’t help but realize that during your meaningless duels, all his attention would be solely on you. Of course, when fighting someone, that was normal. But the way he looked at you… Did enemies look at each other like that?

His eyes shone, full of adoration. He always smiled at you, even if you wanted him to take you seriously. He didn’t gaze at you like he did his other opponents. He always stared them down with anger, or irritation.

He hardly knew anything about you, other than how well you fought when you clashed on the battlefield. But at the same time, he felt like he knew everything about you.

It took you by surprise one day, when he opened up his own confusion to you.

“It feels like I’ve met you before. Before Vivi’s country!”

Before Alabasta? That was where you first met two years ago.

And he was saying that he felt like he knew you before your meeting in the country?

“You must be crazy, Straw Hat…”

You said that, but you felt the same. And… he said he felt the same. You would’ve never expected him to be on the road of confusion, as you were.

You hated to admit it, but Straw Hat Luffy was the center of your thoughts ever since your first meeting. He indirectly influenced you, resulting in you slowly developing a distasteful attitude toward the World Government and all your coworkers.

He’s never even said anything to you about hating the World Government, yet your thoughts of him were changing you.

For better, or for worse? You had no idea.

It was impossible for you to deny the way your eyes softened, and the way your muscles became less tense when he was around.

In battle, you’d have to be the one to fight him if you were present. No one else. Not even if an Admiral offered to assist you in taking him down.

Because for some reason… For some odd, odd reason…

…You were paranoid that they’d be able to defeat him, and he’d die on an execution platform, leaving you alone with your feelings until your own death.

Why did it feel like… that’s already happened before?

You couldn’t let it happen again.

#one piece #fluff #angst #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #mugiwara no luffy #straw hat luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy #op luffy #x reader #roger x rouge #reincarnation #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #luffy x y/n

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animeangelriku · 2 days ago

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one piece au where instead of doflamingo killing rosinante on minion island, law gets out of the chest and vows to become the third corazón as long as doflamingo spares his brother. they’re both taken back into the family, with rosinante as a prisoner and with law continuing his training for his future role as doflamingo’s right hand man.

after they get to dressrosa and doflamingo takes over, viola meets law and realizes they’re both in the same boat, working for someone they despise in order to keep their loved ones safe, so they become, if not friends, at least allies. law takes any chance he can get to sneak away to rosinante’s cell and spend time with him, just being in his company. rosinante obviously clings to any moment with law he can have, but he warns law to be careful. if doflamingo finds out, they could both be in serious trouble.

meanwhile, doflamingo realizes that he can use law and rosinante’s attachment to each other to his favor, punishing rosinante whenever law steps out of line and therefore keeping him under his thumb and extinguishing any rebellious spark that may arise in him. of course, that doesn’t mean doflamingo leaves rosinante alone otherwise; his brother’s betrayal is still a crime that cannot be paid in anything other than blood.

law is resigned to be under doflamingo’s control for the rest of his life, because at least rosinante will be alive and as safe as law can keep him. but then law catches doflamingo torturing rosinante and realizes that they will never be free from doflamingo as long as he lives. so law starts to scheme and plan for a future in which he will be strong enough to take on doflamingo and defeat him.

law is officially named the third corazón when he turns 22, the same age rosinante was when he took the mantle. this means that while he is on sabaody when shit goes down two years later, he doesn’t intervene, but he does see luffy punch the celestial dragon and takes note of him. originally, law is at marineford under doflamingo’s orders, but he still saves luffy “on a whim” and goes radio silent until luffy wakes up.

(he definitely did not save luffy because luffy also has the middle name “d.” it’s definitely not because he knows the devastation of losing a sibling after promising you’d keep them safe. it’s definitely not because rosinante firmly believes that a new dawn is coming, and luffy seems to be at the head of said new dawn. it’s just “on a whim.”)

of course, upon law’s return to dressrosa, doflamingo punishes rosinante for law’s insubordination. law sneaks into rosinante’s cell later that night and apologizes, but rosinante tells him that all that matters to him is that law is okay, and that if law ever wanted to run away, on his own, that’s okay, rosinante understands, law doesn’t have to worry about him. enraged, law asks if rosinante believes he could be that selfish.

“sometimes,” rosinante says, “i wish you were.”

and law snaps and breaks down in tears. rosinante holds him against his chest and pets his hair as law screams and cries and curses doflamingo and all the donquixote pirates.

the next day, law is resolved to bring down doflamingo and kill him. he’s still not strong enough, but he’ll get there, and when he does, he and rosinante will be free, and they’ll travel the world together like rosinante said they would. law tells viola of his mission, and viola shares that the tontattas are planning a rebellion, so they join forces and decide to lay low until the moment is right. law keeps his plans secret from rosinante; the less he knows, the less he is at risk. and also, law just doesn’t want rosinante to worry about him more than he already does.

law still goes to punk hazard, though he does so as doflamingo’s corazón, and when he runs into luffy and the straw hats, he drops to his knees and begs for his help, figuring that luffy will agree as payment for law saving his life. luffy agrees, even before law tells him what he needs help for, so law still has the realization that the straw hats, and luffy especially, are insane.

punk hazard is slightly different, in the sense that law is playing double agent, but his duel with vergo still happens, except that he gets rid of vergo’s den-den mushi so he doesn’t have the chance to call doflamingo and tell him of law’s betrayal. as far as doflamingo knows, everything is still going according to plan in punk hazard, and law and vergo are on their way back to dressrosa.

law returns to dressrosa with the straw hats and meets in secret with viola to tell her he brought reinforcements. they need to act now, today, before doflamingo realizes anything, or they’ll lose their chance. he begs viola to keep an eye on rosinante and to free him and take him out of the palace if anything goes to shit.

at first, things seem to be going exactly as they planned, but then luffy disappears (because he’s in the colosseum fighting for the mera mera no mi), law gets caught by doflamingo and chained to the heart seat, doflamingo vows to kill rosinante in front of law, and all hope seems lost.

just as law is cursing himself for failing (and most of all, for failing rosinante), the tontattas (and usopp) knock out sugar, the toys turn back into humans, luffy, viola, and kyros burst into the palace and behead doflamingo’s string clone, and the rest goes pretty much the same as in canon for the most part, including the colosseum’s participants joining and aiding luffy in fighting the donquixote family executives.

one of the things that changes is that before doflamingo drags law back to the palace, rosinante is rescued by viola, who has no other option but to tell him what’s going on. after having several small heart attacks, rosinante leaves in search of law and finally manages to catch up to him on the rooftop, where law and luffy have been fighting doflamingo, trebol, and bellamy. with rosinante keeping trebol occupied, law gains a bit of an advantage in the fight.

and then doflamingo saws off law’s arm.

trebol gains the upper hand against rosinante, so he and doflamingo still beat the shit out of law, and then doflamingo tries to get law to perform the perennial youth surgery on him in exchange for a favor while rosinante yells at him not to, unable to do anything else because trebol has immobilized him.

law agrees to doflamingo’s deal, and the favor he asks?

“take back all the pain you took from cora-san these past 13 years. beg for his forgiveness, and then let him go.”

(and since he’s still a little shit, he also tells doflamingo to lick the asses of every single citizen in dressrosa. because of course he does.)

doflamingo, furious and enraged at law still continuing to choose rosinante over him, shoots law.

rosinante screams. doflamingo shoots law again and again and again and again and again and rosinante can do nothing except scream and cry and beg doflamingo to stop, please, doffy please stop don’t hurt him doffy stop please please doffy please please PLEASE—

rosinante rushes to law and holds him in his arms and pets his hair and calls law my boy, my boy, my sweet, darling boy and cries and cries and cries and cries

he kisses the crown of law’s head, lays law down as gently as he can, and lunges at doflamingo

doflamingo avoids his attacks easily, grinning that cruel fucking grin of his while rosinante snarls i’ll kill you, i’ll kill you, i’ll fucking kill you, until doflamingo stops playing with him and ties him up in his strings.

luffy gets back to the roof, and law defeats trebol, and luffy takes law and rosinante to the sunflower field with robin. rosinante is the one carrying law instead of cavendish, and law shambles them both to luffy while he recovers to use his haki again, and when luffy punches doflamingo through the ground and splits the island in two, rosinante pulls law into his arms and bursts into tears. law hugs him back with his one good arm and sobs quietly into his chest. the marines take doflamingo away, and for the first time in 13 years, law breathes easy.

#one piece #one piece au #trafalgar law #donquixote rosinante #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rocinante #dressrosa #law and rosi leave dressrosa on the thousand sunny and join the straw hat post-victory feast #law takes a piece of luffy’s vivre card but he and rosi refuse to join the #straw hat grand fleet because the last thing they want is to be pirates #and get into more pirate shenanigans #they get a little boat and travel the world like rosi promised

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naomiiiiz · 2 days ago

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I’m reading a fanfiction where Agent Stone is unofficially indirectly technically but also definitely adopted by the Wachowski Family and now I cannot unsee it.

For some context, the family is trying to figure out how to get Shadow to come to them without forcing him or making him feel pressured or unwanted, and Agent Stone gets involved.

Maddie invites him to dinner, and what I thought was going to be the best overprotective sons defending their loyal and powerful and loving family banter turned into the crackiest family dinner with an unexpecting, slightly grief ridden and emotionally stunted Agent Stone, desperately trying to wrap his head around the three aliens that have been kicking his ass for who knows how long being in a normal family???

With human parents???

Who like, house them and feed them and love them and teach them and nurture them???

And like, do stuff normal parents do in a normal family???

I’ve never felt so estatic since that one time the author my favorite MHA fantasy AU fanfic that got discontinued posted the endings and notes she had for the rest of the fanfiction.

EXAMPLE WITH DIRECT QUOTE FROM THE CHAPTER:

Tails: “Break started on Saturday. One of us can go with him, Mom! Make sure he stays sitting!”

Stone: “Break?”

Maddie: “Fall break. From school.”

Stone: “They go to school, too?”

Tails, rolling his eyes: “If you’re going to be surprised by every normal thing we do with our family, we’re going to be here all night.”

I read the chapter during my Sociology 100 lecture and had to stop many times to keep from laughing.

Stones astonishment at a normal, stable, healthy, albeit non-traditional family, Sonic being Sonic, Knuckles being Knuckles, Tails continuing to be the national treasure that he is, and Maddie and Tom being the patient, understanding parents that we’ve always seen them be.

You can’t buy joy like this. You can only find it on AO3, from people (mostly children, college students, or working class adults) who either have too much time or no time at all and yet somehow still get to share their genius with the entire world.

Reading this shit felt like getting the found family trope injected into my veins through IVF fluid.

Here’s a DIRECT QUOTE from my favorite part of the newest chapter:

Knuckles: “There will never be a truce, and I will never think of you as anything more than a small, weak man with questionable taste in partners.”

*literally like three fucking minutes later, after Knuckles has been fed a well cooked meal from Agent Stone*

Knuckles: “You are a very important and powerful man, and I apologize for what I said before. Mister Robot did not deserve you!”

Agent Stone, who’s probably sweating in three different places and pinching himself to keep from reacting too harshly, and experiencing the worst whiplash of his life: “Um, thanks?”

To Humanity’s_Humbag and Invader_Sam, who are the authors, I commend and thank you for your service to the Sonic Fandom. May the wicked curses of the Ao3 Fanfiction Author always evade you!

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drgnflyteabox · 1 day ago

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☄︎₊˚˖ fusion vs. fission [1]

series masterlist | simon riley x fem!reader part two -> cosmic dance

> summary: simon learns something crucial. or, simon wants a better life for you. he's willing to do anything to get there. > tags/warnings: murder / violence / death, illness, unplanned pregnancy, poor working conditions, mining, feelings of hopelessness / numbness, hurt/comfort, softdark!simon, scifi, inspired by Alien Romulus, made up science, ambiguous shady deals

Down in the dark and the deep, the air is muggy and teeming with floating particles of dust. They stick to Simon from the damp that builds on his skin, fighting to get through his respirator with each breath.

He’d cut a man for it, watched him leak slowly into a dark offshoot of the mine. Saw the whites of his eyes shine in the lamplight for a brief, terrified moment before going dull.

Nobody had said anything about the missing man. Not the first day, nor the next.

Eventually, it passed like a ship in the sky.

The respirators were luxuries. Simon had watched his own father’s lungs go black from the work, watched him grow small and weak.

Ultimately, it was the sickness that got him. Wasn’t the endless fantasies of violence Simon had replayed in his head since childhood of revenge.

Just a slow, bleak sickness.

He refuses to let that take him, not while you’re waiting for him to come back.

He leaves the mine, now, crammed into the shaft with his fellow workers in labour. Some have respirators, like him.

Most do not.

The mine shaft creaks, stutters, then dings at the top.

Headlamp, pick, chisel, they all go in a canvas bag, which he straps to his back. Heavy, but not terrible. He only feels it because he’s been worse for wear lately, feeling the effects of hard labour more and more as the years go by.

Still, Simon is better off than some. They walk painfully slowly in and out of their work bunkies, living close to the mines so that they might still work – might still produce labour.

Sick, is what it is. Inhuman.

He can’t bring himself to care, not really, not if he’s being honest. To acknowledge anything but you is to acknowledge how hopeless it all is.

He knows it's bad.

Must be, the way he only feels alive when he opens the door to your shitty little trailer and finally, finally breathes .

You’re asleep, though you must've tried to stay up for him, sweet as you are, and passed out waiting on the couch.

His steps are as quiet as can be as he steps through the threshold of the door, closing it behind him with a rickety sound.

Then he stops. Stares. You’re curled, knees tucked, an old blanket covering you from the shoulders.

Your cheek is pressed to your hand, neck bent, breaths deep.

He thinks you’re beautiful. Knows that you aren’t used to being called that, not when he’d first met you and not now.

But still, he tells you. Loves to watch you scrunch your nose at him and tell him you’re beautiful too, Si .

Part of it is the ultimate rejection of softness, the inability to accept good things in a world demanding that you stay numb to it lest you be burned by getting comfortable.

You complain often about that – about how he’s letting you get comfortable . Lazy, you call it, since he’s stopped letting you go to work.

I worked before I met you, Si , you always say. Doesn’t matter, he’s got you waiting safely at home now.

Bored, maybe, but not lazy.

Simon has always tried to bring back books or precious commodities from the trade markets like yarn. Things to do. Knows you like to use your hands.

Anything but the mines. He’ll never let you work there again.

Your breath changes when he sits beside you, his weight dipping the worn couch cushion and dragging you just a little closer.

“Told ya not to wait up for me,” he grumbles as your eyes flutter open. Sleepy little cat.

“Wanted to,” you murmur back, though your words jumble and slur a little, half-awake and already leaning towards him like you’re being pulled gravitationally.

“Mm, my sweet girl,” he cups the back of your head, kissing your hair, smelling you.

You’re one of the very few people who smell clean to him. Neutral. Like laundry soap, mostly, and maybe a little bit like the hot bread they serve at breakfast.

A lot of it is just you, though. He likes your natural scent.

Your nose finds his collar, like usual, and you smell him back. He knows he likely smells of soot, of sweat and the minerals they mine on this planet.

You never care. You like how he smells, too, enough to tell him all the time.

It’s bliss, for a moment. Contentment. He closes his eyes and forgets the haggard faces of his fellow labourers.

Forgets the inequality of it all. Forgets the ads that he walks by that promise a trip on a fancy ship to a better planet if he just worked hard enough.

They’re the only clean thing on the streets, the only things that get wiped and shined on the regular.

He shakes his head, forgets the suffering of the world, and especially of this godforsaken planet.

Then you tense.

He’s attuned to you, can tell when the atmosphere changes.

When there’s something wrong.

His hands find your face, cradling you, thumbs at your cheeks, “what is it?” he says, brows drawn.

“I have something to tell you,” you say, and his world narrows to a pinpoint.

Simon, sit… we have something to tell you, his mother tells him, before he learns Tommy’s hooked on something bad and he’s barely hanging on.

We’ve got something to tell you, the peace officers broach without a lick of humanity when he learns his family has been killed – a mine explosion had collapsed their trailer into a sinkhole.

So his breath changes. His shoulders tense. He trusts you completely, wholly, in every way, but he’s launched into the void of space by your words and braces for impact.

Only you begin to cry. Hot, globulous tears fall down your cheeks, falling onto his wrists.

They burn worse than hot coal. Hurt worse.

“Sh, you’re alright now,” he soothes. His thumbs brush away as many tears as he can catch, “come on, don’t cry. Tell me what's wrong.”

“I don’t know how this happened,” you hiccough, trying to move your head away from him. He doesn’t let you, holding you in place and letting the stuttering of your breathing resolve itself.

“How what happened, honey?”

“Simon,” – not Si. He braces – “I’m pregnant.”

It starts to rain halfway there. The rain here is different from other planet systems – it makes the air thick with a viscous humidity, coloured with a strange glowing blue.

If he’s to believe the quackjob down the street from him, it’s apparently because this planet is rife with bioluminescent phytoplankton.

I thought plankton were from the water, silly, Tommy says in his memory. I just seen it. He’s four, then, and mostly immune to the suffering he will soon know.

Simon had been reading to him from a shitty copy of Science for Kids! One leftover from old earth.

This is a special kind, the quackjob had told him. If I could just get a book about it, I could tell you the name … but it’s like phytoplankton!

Simon shakes his head. His mind hasn’t wandered like that in ages.

It’ll be alright, honey, he’d held you there, on the couch, mind miles away. I’ll take care of you, don’t I always?

He tries to, at least. Has made a hundred promises about your safety, your happiness. Ones he shouldn’t have made, in hindsight, but he’s made them and he intends to fulfil them.

The bar is sparsely populated, likely due to the thick fog of rain.

Price is always there, though.

It’d be a real sign of impending doom if he weren’t.

There, in the back. Beside him, another man Simon doesn’t know.

What he does know is that Price doesn’t work the mines. Doesn’t have to. The peace officers leave him be, too, because he’s known for making them disappear should they cause any trouble.

“Price,” Simon says gruffly. He’s not putting it on because he doesn’t have to. Naturally big and imposing, he gets the message across.

“Take a seat,” Price says.

He doesn’t make the mistake of thinking he and Price are friendly, but he does know that Price has a sprout of respect for him – it’s up to him to make it grow. To prove himself.

This is the only way for him to take care of you, now.

A deal is made.

The man’s name is Nik, and he’s a pilot. Rare thing on this planet, rarer still that he’s open to business from a man like Simon.

He wants out, and Nik has the means.

Price is included because he needs an extra man on a job, and the history between them lends for a tremulous kind of trust.

A pact built on the fact that each of them are not normal men, not normal workers. They’ve tasted violence, used it, and aren’t afraid to take their gloves off to get a job done.

When he learns of what the mine operator has done to you, he doesn’t immediately act. No, he waits.

Simon is used to the shadows, to hiding. Used to patience.

He watched his father die, after all, didn’t act even after all that man did to him. Saw him turn to nothing before his eyes.

So he waits for the operator. Finds out his schedule.

You’d been left in the mine for hours. A support had fallen, trapping you and three others behind it. Oxygen grew sparse. No food, no light.

The operator could’ve had a recovery team there within minutes of hearing the news.

Too expensive, he’d said, and sent common miners to dig at the rubble for hours.

That, he could not forgive. Not after seeing your face, tear tracks cutting through the soot, lungs crackling for days afterwards.

Your growing fear of the dark, and of small spaces. Of being enclosed.

No, Simon could not forgive that.

That’s where Price finds him; with blood soaked into his sleeves, knuckles busted, face covered with a mask.

“Looks like you did my job for me.”

Everything comes together, brick by brick, line by line. He agrees to worse things than killing a man for his respirator, but he does it thinking of you and feels nothing for it but satisfaction and peace.

“You sure about this?” Price asks, sipping his drink. Expensive anywhere, a downright luxury here. Speaks to not only his power but his mobility.

Nobody gets off the planet, let alone does it regularly. Nobody but Price – and Nik, Simon thinks.

“I’m sure,” Simon says succinctly. He is, and has never been surer about anything else. There are no boundaries he won’t break for you, nothing he won’t agree to get you out of this hellhole.

Everything’s being expedited now, thanks to the little life growing inside you.

He can’t afford to waste any more time.

You’re still asleep where he left you when he gets back. On the bed this time, covered in a mound of knit blankets.

Your brow is furrowed, even asleep, body curled protectively.

Fuck, that makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fear, uncertainty, inadequacy. Everything runs through him at one like a herd of wild horses, trampling the earth in their wake.

He crawls in with you, in front of you, staring at your sleeping face. You’re so beautiful, he thinks again.

His knuckles find your cheek, gently touching, eyes dipping down to the curve of your body beneath the blankets.

“S’gonna be alright, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “I’ve got it covered.”

#drgnfly writes #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley/reader #simon riley #testing the waters ig

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carn4g3 · 2 days ago

Text

Creepypasta Relationship HCs (2)

Characters - BEN Drowned, Tim Wright (Masky), Brian Thomas (Hoodie), Kagekao

Summary - A few more glimpses into how these creeps are as partners (w/ 50% more possessiveness !)

TWs - Descriptions of yandere behavior, cheating, stalking, possessiveness/jealousy and overall unhealthy relationships, mentions of kidnapping and violence, & very brief mentions of sex and smoking

Word Count - 3.5k (~700 to 900 each)

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first part <33 I know a few people requested these characters alongside some other new ones in the time it took me to write this. Just know that I'll have ones for any additional characters out sometime soon if you happened to leave a request along those lines :)

Part 1

BEN Drowned

Before I get to anything else, BEN is perpetually in his early 20s in my characterization of him.

He arguably has the most contact with people outside of Slender's influence simply by being an ipad kid. Because of that, he's most likely to form a relationship with someone if they are from the normal world. BEN doesn't necessary hate his colleagues or Slender, but they're all just so fucked up. Someone with even half the emotional baggage of a killer would be much better.

Now, it's pretty obvious that BEN isn't exactly the most palatable to the average human being. He has a million alternate accounts, all of which assume false identities, but he does have a select few that are more personal. On those accounts, he spends his time in various forums or chats where he can discuss his favorite games and other media. You two would probably connect on one of those shared interests, maybe even several, and he would be hooked from there.

BEN isn't the most patient person, but it would take more than a few months of talking before he truly built a connection with you. He'd prefer you reciprocate his feelings after that point, but it wouldn't deter him if you didn't. He's self aware enough to know that he needs to give you time to adjust to the fact that he's not the human man you thought you were talking to and that he crawled out of your very own computer screen. Though, back to his impatience, it's probably not nearly enough time.

The topic of monogamy with BEN would be a variable subject. He's well aware of the litany of ways partners define themselves given the somewhat questionable time he spends online. Ideally, BEN would see himself as unconstrained by a relationship, and, therefore, you should have an open end as well. Though, the less mature part of him sees you as something of a prize that should be reserved for him alone, and that's the side that takes over.

BEN wouldn't allow you to have romantic or sexual relationships with anyone other than himself. Meanwhile, the unspoken rule is that he could... if he wanted to. Does that mean he actually has other partners? No, not at all. It was a miracle you wanted to enter a relationship with him willingly, if you even did. There's no way in hell he's going to replicate that easily.

Despite all of that, he's not very outwardly possessive. He carries himself with a certain arrogance, it shouldn't be a shock that extends to his relationships. If you seem close to someone else, he still thinks you'll choose him in the end. At the same time, he's your most avid stalker. There are cameras damn near everywhere nowadays, and he doesn't even need to break a sweat to access their footage. In the situation that you're cooperative enough that he doesn't need to force you into his living space, he watches where you go. Even if you can't leave his side, he still tracks you one way or another. Nothing happens between you and another person that doesn't go unseen by him, and, if someone is too close, he'll pay them a "friendly" visit.

He shows affection the best through quality time and gift giving. Admittedly, his definition of quality time is almost exclusively reserved for playing games or showing you something on his plethora of devices. On occasion, he can suck it up and do something that you like: going outside is in his skillset... albeit reluctantly. As for gift giving, BEN is surprisingly good at getting things you like even though it seems like he's never listening. You might want to avoid asking how he got the money for such things, though. He won't give you a straight answer anyway.

Physical affection with BEN would be a bit strange. He's not entirely an apparition, but his form isn't totally corporeal either. Objects he's holding can phase through his grip at times without warning, though it's not quite to the point where he can pass through walls. When he lingers close enough to you, it feels almost like there's a faint, electrical buzzing on your skin. He can still touch you despite that, though your hair may start standing after a while. It's only when he lingers near you for too long that there's an issue. The static electricity building between you becomes pretty potent, resulting in an actual electric shock once he does make contact. BEN can be a little sadistic, but he's not particularly interested in hurting you. So, he tends to avoid touching you much or, if he does, it'll be pretty quick.

While BEN has a bit of a reason for falling short on physical affection, he has no good excuse for his lackluster words of affection. He thrives in making lewd comments on your body and that's it. The only way to get him to say he loves you is by saying it yourself. Even then, his response is pretty lacking, but it's not out of a genuine dislike for you. The way his ears turn a light pink, burning most red at their pointy ends, indicates he's at least a little fond of you.

Masky

Quick note because I can see this becoming confusing, I tend to refer to Slender as the Operator when writing for Marble Hornets characters because I think that's what they would call him. It's still the same old Slendy tho :)

Being in this fandom for so long, I can see the development of my frontal lobe in the form of my hcs of this man.

Tim is well into his 40s. He thinks a dating life is far beyond him, and, even if it weren't, he hardly knows what it's like to be a "normal" person anymore after 20 years as a proxy. While I say all that, if he were to find love, it would likely not be among the Operator's ranks. Tim despises the creature and everything it stands for, but he knows he's not strong enough to evade it. He finds respite in the areas outside of its power and is mostly likely to let go of his inhibitions for someone in that mental space.

He is not 100% ready to embrace a relationship, romantic or otherwise. The Operator isn't clueless to Tim's resent; it's why newer proxies like Kate and Toby are much more infatuated with the creature. To keep the less conditioned ones around, it has to extend its control a bit more uniquely. Tim knows that you're at risk of the Operator doing something to you, and he can't handle that. Because of that, his presence in your life isn't consistent. He's trying to prove to himself that he doesn't need you and, to the Operator, that you don't get in the way of his work. Though, Tim has never been the most strong willed. He comes crawling back to you every time.

While most of the others are willing to kidnap the person of their affections, I don't think Tim would quite get to that point. He prefers that you have your own separate life away from him. It makes him feel like you two are a normal couple, but he's certainly not a saint. Mentally stable people do not become proxies of the Operator, so Tim is riddled with some less than ideal possessive and controlling tendencies. He wants you to be dedicated to him and only him. Any other romantic or sexual relationships are completely out of the question for you, in his mind.

Does he quite monitor if you keep up your end of the bargain on that? No. When he disappears for months at a time, he does anything he can to erase you from his mind. Gaining an almost iron will, he won't even stalk you until he gets especially desperate, and that's usually the point when he shows up again.

When he is around, though, he expresses issues with your other relationships quite readily: platonic or even familial. Tim is very deeply insecure in himself. Who wouldn't be after finding out their existence alone has led to the deaths of many? He's buried all of that so deep at this point that even he hardly knows it though, so he calls himself a "traditional" man instead. He prefers your deepest affections to be saved for him, is that so wrong?

Even though his lifestyle is far from anything traditional, he sees himself as the provider. Regardless of your gender, you're the caretaker or the homebody. Like I said earlier, he's fine with you having a separate life-- it's the modern age after all, the least of his worries should be whether or not you work. But, he expects you to see him as a dominant figure that should be listened to, and he will follow through on that.

Anger management? Who the hell is that? Tim's job grates on him, physically and mentally. That's part of the reason he smokes a pack a day, and why he's with you as well. He tends to be at his most vulnerable and volatile when he turns to you, and those emotions are usually hardly a result of your actions. When Tim is angry, though, any little thing can set him off and make that anger entirely your fault. He'll tend to distance himself before things get physical, but verbal arguments are far from uncommon. One of these arguments is usually what prompts him to disappear back to the depths of the woods. But, if he's feeling a little less sorry for himself, he'll come back to you and give a begrudging apology. He does truly feel bad when he snaps at you and wishes it wouldn't happen. At the same time, he has a completely self-pitying and helpless approach to fixing that issue.

Surprisingly, he's big on physical affection. If he's with you, you're likely a little secret of his, so he can only get his time in after completing his daily tasks. He's tired as hell by that point, so he'll just sprawl out wherever you are. In bed? He's right behind you. Watching a movie? Your couch is comfy enough to sleep on. You're busy doing things? He can fall asleep standing if need be. He prefers if you go about initiating certain things like hugs and cuddles, but he can handle initiating a kiss or more.

When it comes to words of affection, on the other hand, just be happy with the few affectionate gestures you can get. It takes a war in his brain to so much as utter the words "sorry," you'd be shit out of luck to hear "I love you" or anything deeper than that. If he's feeling especially sappy, he might leave you a handwritten note. His handwriting is absolutely atrocious, worse than a doctor's script, and takes some analysis to decipher. Once you get it, that will be the closest glimpse at Tim's true feelings towards you.

Hoodie

I would like to think Brian is similarly still in touch with parts of his humanity as Tim is. But, that would be wishful thinking, wouldn't it?

Brian is a stalker first and a lover second. While normal people might unwind by watching TV or even reading a book, Brian takes similar joy in simply watching you from a far. He would find people outside of the Operator's control most interesting to watch, but it wouldn't matter at the end of the day. If you capture his interests, he'll watch-- maybe even take videos.

I imagine his main tasks under the Operator involve intel collection. He's highly skilled in slinking around in the shadows and not being caught, unless of course he wants to instill some unease in the mind of his victim. As a result, it's very unlikely you would notice him lurking. He's not there to unsettle you necessarily, but he might if he finds himself feeling a certain way. You're his most convenient entertainment at the end of the day, so it's not really in his desire to encourage you to get others involved or even move somewhere less convenient.

If you do happen to notice his presence, he's almost a little impressed at your perceptiveness. Not to mention, it makes the second phase of his plan a little easier. Brian may be content to watch endlessly, but he doesn't stop himself from exploring his curiosity to be included in your life. For him, he feels like he's known you forever. For you, he's crafted your interactions across the span of several weeks or even months to get you interested. With the added weight of a secret stalker on your psyche, it only draws you closer to his "welcoming" arms.

Brian isn't quite to the point where he sees himself as a sole provider. Once again, it's more interesting for him if you have at least a few interests beyond him. Like a beach episode in an anime, Brian sees your endeavors outside of your home as a welcomed (but temporary) change in setting. Not nearly enough people acknowledge that the Marble Hornets guys are from Alabama, in my opinion. It's not exactly the most progressive state, and Brian likely holds some toxic masculine values. He thinks of himself as a sort of "man of the house." You should listen to him, and he expects you to dedicate a lot of time to your relationship. In his mind, he dedicates a lot of time to you, even if most of that dedication is unknown to you.

Before he even went forward with inserting himself into your narrative, he was already interfering with the others in your life. He tries to act all stoic, but he is still very possessive at the end of the day. I've explained that some of the other characters find their possessiveness and jealousy rooted in their insecurities. Brian is certainly not immune to those feelings, but I think his issues stem from what I can best describe as an objectification of others. He views you almost like a hobby, something that he puts his free time into. He feels an almost bitter jealousy when others try to catch your attention with less than half of the pristine planning and attention to detail he executed. Just as he can stalk you, he can stalk others. He will make his watchful presence much more malicious and well known to the people he wants out of your life.

His go to forms of affection are acts of service and quality time. Ignoring that he sees stalking you as a form of quality time, he likes taking you on dates. His appearance isn't something too noteworthy to most people, so he can easily ditch the mask (if you even know he has one) and hit the town. He's a big fan of dinner and a movie or a little nature hike if you're interested in more outdoorsy activities like him. If you're more into stay-home dates, he'll happily watch a movie from the comfort of your couch and help you cook a dinner for two.

As for acts of service, he takes pride in the fact that he's a bit of a handyman. It's not like you can exactly get the usual help when you live secretly in the woods as a proxy of an immortal eldritch being. If you so much as breathe a word of issue about something in your home, he's on it. Carrying something heavy? He'll get it for you. It doesn't matter if you can do it yourself, he's going to do it now. Weaponized incompetence fears him. Asking Brian to do a task for you almost always ensures it will get done within the day.

He doesn't honestly care too much for physical affection. As I've already established, he's happy to do damn near anything you ask of him. If you want attention that way, simply ask. In general, he asks for very little in return. Although, when he does get around to asking for more, there's no guarantee he won't push your boundaries a little uncomfortably.

On the topic of communication, he's not very talkative and prefers to listen to you instead. Words of affection are few and far between, but he does have some quirks. It won't take an army for him to tell you he loves you, and he has a sleeve full of endearing nicknames to call you ("love" is his favorite).

Kagekao

Where do I even start with Kage.

He doesn't have any specific preference if you're a worker of Slender just like him or not. If asked why he does anything for the creature, he'll say it's simply because it's the "best" arrangement in this modern age. On the surface, that's a pretty reasonable explanation given that demons aren't exactly common or readily accepted members of society. However, the real reason is that Slender gets what it wants and is a hell lot more powerful than Kage. The demon begrudgingly does what he has to and tries to spend the rest of his time getting the fun he would prefer.

While some of the others might begin their interests by watching from afar, Kage pops into your life right off the bat. He finds entertainment in watching, but it's so much more interesting to have those interactions up close. Especially if you're not as familiar with inhuman entities, Kage takes pleasure in eliciting those responses of perplexion from you.

Living in a world largely populated by what he perceives as "weak humans," he's gained quite the ego. If you're not a demonic entity, he most certainly considers himself superior to you in all ways. Even if you are a demonic entity, he has a very specific criteria for what he considers to be a "real" demon and would still likely see himself as better. On the other hand, his underestimation of you tends to lead to interesting reactions in the case that you can pack a bit of a punch against the demon. (*cough* he's into it *cough*)

Like Tim, a relationship with Kagekao wouldn't ever really get a chance to be defined because he likes to bounce in and out of your life on a dime. Although, he certainly doesn't feel any guilt or even apprehension to pursue his interests in you. He recognizes you could get targeted by some less favorable attention (Slender being the worst), but he's interested in seeing how you'd react.

He is absolutely with other people in addition to you. I can't imagine he has many relationships that are too far past friends with benefits (everyone wants to fuck a demon, this app proves it), but I wouldn't put it past him. For that reason, he tends to turn a blind eye to your escapades. That being said, if your relationship with him borders on something more romantic, he expects you to have no other romantic partners.

Because he's not too consistently involved in your life, Kage isn't the most possessive on the list. On occasion, he'll express his opinions on the other people you spend your time with, but they're usually empty threats. If they really upset him, he'll eliminate them from your life. Does that mean death? Or simply scaring them off? You don't really want to know.

Like many of these guys, Kage isn't big on clear demonstrations of love like physical affection or words. His best show of affection is gift giving. He's not quite a kleptomaniac, but he does have what can only be described as a dragon's hoard of shiny trinkets. If asked, he won't say any of them are particularly special. Though, he does have a lengthy story for how he acquired each one, and he won't just readily give them out... except for you. Especially if he has matching sets of something, he'll tend to gift you one of the halves. You might not necessarily want or even like all the trinkets Kage gifts you, but you'll have to keep and display them. If not, Kage will do a bit of redecorating for you

Gotta let the brain worms speak on this one, he likes to offer you help, but he is not actually helpful. Kage thinks he can do practically anything. He's a demon in a human's world, after all. But can he actually follow through? No. Not at all. He gives up on tasks pretty easily when they stop being interesting. Even in the case that he goes through with completing the whole thing, you might have preferred to just do it yourself.

Don't get me wrong, his affections aren't all bad. He tends to think he's too good for physical affection, but he can be surprisingly sweet and comforting. Additionally, while he won't say it out loud, you might find that one of his gifts has an oddly romantic inscription etched on it. Trust, Kage makes up for his shortcomings.

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