#they're both incredibly touch starved

[v3nuskae]

Give me a moment to find my style on how to draw these two I'm not used to it yet 😓😔

[adhd-merlin]

One thing Gwen loves about Merlin is that he gives himself so freely to those he cares about. His support, his advice, his affection — even his body, since this thing between them started. His mind, however. There are times when, looking at him, Gwen has the feeling that he’s holding something back. Like there is something just out of reach behind his eyes. She mentioned it to Arthur, once, wondering if he ever had the same impression, but he had laughed. “It’s Merlin,” he’d said, as if the idea was terribly amusing. “He's probably thinking about which of your gowns to nick when you’re not looking.”

Pillow Talk on AO3

[physics-of-one-piece]

Merlot & Primroses (Doflamingo x Reader)

Chapter 1

(AO3 link)

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

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

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

Word Count: 11.7k words

Chapter Navigation: 1 (you are here)

Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

That’s the first thing you notice.

It’s silent. Unnervingly so.

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

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

Aren’t they back yet?

They should’ve been back by now.

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

Or... or...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your husband, marine commander Donquixote Rosinante…”

Why does Tsuru-san sound in pain?

“...is dead.”

The world stopped, turning completely silent.

All you could do was stare blankly.

What?

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

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

Rosinante… is dead?

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

Shock left you mute, your head completely empty.

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

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

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

Body. Body. Rosinante’s body.

Rosinante’s corpse. Your husband’s corpse.

“Understood.”

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

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

What just happened? What…

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

Seconds ago, Rosinante was alive.

You shuddered, crying more tears.

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

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

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

You grab at your throbbing head.

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your heart was wrenched open and killed.

Dead with your husband.

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

***

How does betrayal feel like?

It feels like silence.

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

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

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

Doflamingo hated them all.

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

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

All Doflamingo was given was a scrap, and lies.

So many lies.

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

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

Rosi talked to him like they were strangers.

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

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

The pain of betrayal is sharp and agonising.

Like a bullet.

Like red blood on white snow.

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

Vergo’s words rang out in his head.

“Corazón has a wife.”

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

At the one Rosinante gave everything to…

Finding out something like this...

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

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

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

Would Doflamingo be able to do it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He left a wife behind, too.

Doflamingo took to the sky.

***

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

You feel empty.

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

The house is empty.

Rosinante isn’t home yet.

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

Rosi will come back.

He’ll come back.

It was just a bad dream.

You curl into yourself, tired.

Rosi always comes back, no matter what.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can sit down while I —”

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

His yell made you flinch, and you turned still.

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” you offered quietly.

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

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

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

“No,” you breathed.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you dare tell them about Law!”

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

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

You froze.

Oh.

You said it.

Death.

That’s right.

Your fingers let go of Wulf’s collar.

Rosinante…

Died.

A chill swept through your body, making you shiver.

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

“Minion -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our?” asked Rosinante in a whisper.

“What?” you asked, blinking.

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

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

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

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

“Our, huh?” murmured Rosinante softly.

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

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

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

Wulf took a breath.

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

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

Wulf’s eyes widened. “What?”

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

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

“Doflamingo killed him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wulf said your name.

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

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

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

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

Pancakes.

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

Your fingers tremble.

You can’t believe Rosinante is gone.

Simply… gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s silent. So silent.

You’ve never heard silence quite this loud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They remind you of gunshot wounds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Law blushed. “Thank… you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggled. They were so cute.

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

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

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

You made too much.

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

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

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

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

Rosi... Rosi!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rosinante snapped his fingers. “Silent!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His clumsiness. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close your eyes.”

You chuckle, but do so.

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

You laugh. “I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup,” you said.

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

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

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

“Okay... Three... Two...”

“One.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rosi!” you cried. “Are you okay?”

Rosinante laughed softly, rich and warm.

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

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

“Tastes good,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“What do we toast to?” he asked.

“Love and health?” you suggested.

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

“Salud!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rosinante looks so pretty, like an angel.

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

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

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

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

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

Rosinante kissed you, soft and deep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sinks in.

Rosinante isn’t coming home to you.

***

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Know what, sir?”

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

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

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

“I see... So you’re looking for —”

“His wife,” said the man.

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

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

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

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

The tall man tensed up, flinching.

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

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

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

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

The man turned to leave.

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

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

“Like your hair, sir.”

“My hair?” asked the man.

The florist nodded. “Yellow primroses.”

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

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

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

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

However, he nodded, accepting the flowers.

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

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

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

“I will,” he promised.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Corazón must have stolen one of his sunglasses for it.

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

Should he knock?

Doflamingo smiled maliciously, full of menace.

No.

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

“Honey, I’m home!” he called.

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

“Huh…?”

She isn’t even home to be surprised!

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

“Tch.”

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

“Hm?”

A large picture caught his attention.

Oh.

You’re beautiful.

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

Doflamingo’s mouth forms into a sneer.

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

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

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

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

A life Doflamingo was completely left out of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a lot of coats.

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

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

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

“Must’ve been the Crow Corps.”

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

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

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

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

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

Our Wedding

Footage. Of his little brother’s wedding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doflamingo returned his attention to the projection on the wall.

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

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

What a beauty you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like Doflamingo.

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

“Oh, shut up, Wulf. Gimme that!”

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

Rosi.

“Why’re you taking pictures?”

“It’s a video snail, Rosi.”

“Oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wulf…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

Well…

Doflamingo grinned.

Finders keepers.

He snatched one and devoured it in one bite.

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

Delicious.

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

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

It’s a photo album. He grins. Bingo.

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

***

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

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

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

It takes you a moment, but you notice it.

There is something in the darkness.

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

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

Hope blooms within you.

“Rosi?”

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

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

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

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

Red — merlot red.

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

A man was here. It wasn’t Rosinante.

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

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

That smile froze the blood in your veins.

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

****

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

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

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

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

[sneppu]

The Reasons Why Severus Snape is Secretly a Cat, Actually.

I'm saying he's a neglected and abused stray little black cat and here is why

He's very meow meow. VERY kitten.

Black cats are vilified and assumed by some to be evil. Coincidentally, both of these things happen to Snape as well.

Difficult to befriend. Cats are already picky about who they like, and Cats who have had it rough are even more difficult. One cannot just waltz up to a cat like that expect friendliness, or even indifference for that matter.

Extremely bad, no good, very bad luck with dogs. Seriously, the man MUST have dog trauma by now. Werewolves? Sirius, one of his biggest haters and tormentors, a dog animagus? even Fluffy mauling his leg?? The first two were marauders, yes, but that's not a good thing when it comes to Snape. (not all dogs and cats dont get along, but its certainly interesting. Personally, I headcanon him as a definite cat person who has a bad associations with dogs but thats a whole other post.)

Very hissy and snarly and unpleasant when threatened - and sometimes, even when YOU think there's no apparent threat! This is premium Gato™ Behavior. An abused little shelter cat, horribly unsocialized, becoming hyper defensive anytime anything happens to him, even if the thing that is happening is kind.

it fits with the idea that hes "mean for no reason" because there IS a reason - cats are complicated little guys! Where you see a nonissue, He might see a threat. Where you see kindness, he might see mockery. Where you see playfulness he might see cruelty, and so on. After all, he's been on the receiving end of it all too often.

Cats like this usually end up stuck in shelters - not a home - because no one will take them. They're too offputting, they're too mean, they're too much trouble. One could argue that Hogwarts itself IS that shelter in this scenario; a place to be, but not a home. Not really.

Worth noting: maybe to Harry, Hogwarts can be considered a sort-of Home, but he actually found kindness and friends there. Severus lost his only friend and was tormented there. Better than his incredibly shitty situation with his family? Certainly! but Shelters often are.

SWM fits as well; A moment of extreme distress from being humiliated, afraid, and overwhelmed? all those jeering laughing faces while he is vulnerable and unsafe, defenseless at the hands of people who have continuously hurt him for years?? and to see and know that his friend - his BEST friend - the only friend; the only PERSON, he has, is there holding back a smile as it is happening too? Have you ever met a cat in distress? of course he lashed out. It's honestly astounding that he didnt lash out MORE.

and while on the subject of SWM, him lashing out at Lily applies here too. A cornered, distressed cat (especially one with a history of abuse) sees everything as a threat , even people it is normally friendly to, if it's distressed enough. Have you tried to bathe a cat? or maybe tried to coax one to get into a cat carrier for the vet? these things are very difficult but manageable at the best of times but "vulnerable, afraid, humiliated, and threatened" are NOT the best of times, I fear.

it even works with his occlumency and the way he deals with vulnerability as well. Cats, when in pain, do their best to hide that pain. This is because to be outwardly hurt is to be vulnerable, and that can lead to predation by bigger animals. Severus too, hides his vulnerability. The things that truly matter to him, his worries, his soft and squishy bits, and loyalties all carefully locked away.

Rivalry with Minerva?? that's just good ol' unserious cat drama. Have u ever seen an indoor cat staring down a stray through the window? silly little creatures. They'll grumble about it and act like its on sight (and maybe it is!) but when you're not looking, there'll be sniffing through the glass and pretending they dont care while they nap suspiciously close by.

Starved for affection and touch. An abused stray, past all the hissing and the fear and violence, once they're finally given a chance and finally understand that they are safe, just wants to be loved. They usually end up being the most affectionate and loyal cats of all! only to those they feel safe with, of course.

And speaking of loyalty, that applies here too. He was loyal to Lily, the first and only person to show him kindness (though my feelings for her are very complicated) and he was later loyal to Dumbledore. Unfortunately, neither of these people ever truly took in the stray, not really. And so the Stray was never actually socialized, and never completely safe, and never actually given a home.

and finally.. his death. Cats have a tendency to hide when nearing death, or dying.. and as such, often die in solitude. Severus may not have exactly had a direct hand in this of course, but.. there's something about him dying in this shitty little shack, far away from the action, presumably alone (or so he thought until Harry and his friends materialized out of nowhere under the cloak.). He wasn't actually alone in his actual final moments, but in the time leading up to it? Very lonely.

In a way, one could say that Lily came closest to adopting the stray Sev cat. And maybe she would have! maybe she wanted to take in the stray at one point - had planned to, even! But her friends told her he was dirty and gross, "who knows where that things been! he's probably diseased". and The marauders kept tormenting him, making him increasingly defensive and hissy and violent, as cats often are in that situation and then it was also "look how cruel and mean he is! he'll only hurt you". and maybe when the time finally came and that defensiveness finally WAS aimed at her it only confirmed what she had already begun to believe. And then she decided she wasnt a cat person after all. Who knows? One could make an argument for all of that. Do i see things that way? maybe, maybe not. My feelings toward every character who is not Snape are largely indifferent for the most part.

Verdict: Severus Snape is a Cat. He is a little kitten meow meow. Give this man a little cauldron to curl up in asap

[thepunchingbag]

I am such a sucker for Astarion x Karlach due to multiple reasons and I am going to list a few here:

Their stories are extremely similar in terms of being forced into servitude and their bodily autonomy being fucked with, their bodies being used as objects (Karlach's body being turned into an Infernal weapon, Astarion's being turned into an Infernal ritual component and as bait for victims).

They both value freedom to an incredible degree (understandably) - Karlach seems to abandon herself in the moment while Astarion is immediately afraid this freedom will slip through his fingers.

Effeminate man with macho woman. Hot and cold. Posh and working-class. Black cat and golden retriever.

Even if they romance other people, there is an undeniable warmth between the two of them. They're going to be friends regardless.

Astarion's response when Karlach falls in battle "Karlach! You can't die - I won't let you die!" He sounds like he's WEEPING, Neil Newbon really delivers the "his heart is breaking and he's panicking" perfectly.

Her pet name for him is "leech".... just... fuckin' hell, Karlach. I love her.

They call each other "darling" unironically when romanced.

However, I definitely think Astarion can be very hurtful towards her, and his comments come from a place of vulnerability. There is SO much subtext to their relationship, and the devnotes really shows that. She offers a chance to take things slow, to remove sex from the early stages of the relationship, and he desperately wants that. He has no idea how to navigate this type of relationship, and he lashes out. I also love Karlach can push him right back ("Want to try that again without being a jackass?"/"Enough. You can't talk to me like that."). The fact he apologizes and admits he enjoys just talking with her. I dunno, like other people have said, it feels healing...

They also compliment each other's struggles since Astarion literally cannot touch her, so his usual seduction routine falls flat. Karlach is touch-starved but it's a rewarding alternative to take things slow, that she can feel a genuine connection. She's spent a decade in the Hells where genuine connections like friendships and romance are essentially a death sentence - you can never let your guard down - and now she finally can. Like, they both basically have to learn how to take things slow.

[elefishwrites]

poly twisted! angrybeauty (shrimpo x glisten) x reader :3

:0 this fish just got his first poly request!! let's go!

shrimpo's got a really great twisted design, glisten too! i just love the way twisted shrimpo moves it's really creepy

i enjoy running circles around glisten significantly more than that shrimp though... pebble things ☆

"despite everything..." ★ twisted angrybeauty x GN reader hcs

pairing ❥ twisted shrimpo x reader x twisted glisten

relationship ❥ romantic

reader's gender is not mentioned!

dividers made by @/saradika-graphics ⊹₊���⋆

♡ How did you- How did you manage this??

♡ Two of the most volatile twisteds, and you're all in a relationship with each other-?!!

♡ Well, either way, you're in it now! Have fun!

♡ Shrimpo's basically a guard dog. He's very protective and will literally growl at anything he percieves as a threat

♡ Which is... A lot of things. He's somehow gotten even more angry because of being turned, and it's resulted in a very thin line between friend and foe for him.

♡ He will and has attacked things that aren't even alive, purely because they looked threatening.

♡ You and Glisten end up having to calm him down a lot...

♡ Which is a feat all its own, because the poor shrimp is almost always enraged thanks to how the ichor's corrupted his mind

♡ Both of them are glued to your side pretty much constantly. In Shrimpo's case, it's because he wants to protect you, and in Glisten's case, he's afraid you won't come back if he lets you out of his sight.

♡ Speaking of, you have to reassure Glisten a lot. He's very insecure about his current state, and there's a constant fear in the back of his mind that you, or worse, both you and Shrimpo will get tired of him and try to leave.

♡ Shrimpo was cuddly before being turned, and even more so now. The ichor's made him a bit more prone towards his base instincts, so there's none of the embarassment that would've stopped him before. He's the same touch-starved shrimp he's always been, despite everything.

♡ Glisten's also physically affectionate, but in the sense of just wanting to be near you and hold hands as you walk together. Being able to touch you and know you're there with him is comforting.

♡ Which sometimes ends up in cuddle piles where you're all snuggled up together in some isolated corner away from everything, away from the machines, away from any other twisteds on the floor...

♡ Glisten loves it. It makes him feel secure, which is rare for him. It's also a chance to see Shrimpo completely pacified for once, which is rare as well.

♡ ...There's ichor all over you. It'd be easy to mistake you for a twisted if it weren't for your eyes still being normal. Both of them have large patches of ichor on them that leak everywhere and get on you whenever you're in close proximity to them.

♡ It doesn't help that both of their hands are constantly covered in the stuff...

♡ You need to get accustomed to the feeling of ichor on you very quickly if you want to be with these two!

♡ Despite their respective current situations, they care for you a lot. Just existing as a twisted can be incredibly painful physically and emotionally, but you help make it just that bit more bearable for them! They appreciate you in their own ways, and they're grateful to have you by their side.

Footsteps echoed off the empty walls of Gardenview, the sound loud in the overwhelming silence that usually filled its hallways.

The source, you and your boyfriend, searched the corridors carefully.

Once again, Shrimpo had gotten aggressive with one of the other twisteds roaming the floor you had been exploring, and ran off after them.

So, as his very caring partners, it was up to you to figure out where he had gone, which had led you deep into the winding passageways of the floor, much deeper than any of you had intended to go.

Glisten held your hand tight, the other hanging limply in front of what remained of his stomach.

His eyes darted around, keeping a careful watch on every little patch of shadow within his range.

You, on the other hand, were trained to look for any flash of that shrimp. It was literally impossible to miss him, considering he was still Shrimpo and essentially allergic to the concept of stealth.

"Oh, [Name]... I don't like this." Glisten spoke softly, worry seeping through his tone. "What if something happened to him? You know how Shrimpo is..."

You turned to look at him, uttering a gentle assurance that your beloved partner would be fine, just like he always was, and that you'd find him soon enough.

He met your eyes, and you two held each others gaze for a moment before he nodded. "Right, yes. He'll be alright. Thank you..."

You offered him a smile, and with that, you set off on your search once again.

You two looked up and down the halls, behind every piece of cover, and even returned to a couple of places you had checked beforehand in the hope he had wandered into them while you were away, yet no such luck.

It was beginning to worry both of you; this was the longest yet it had taken to find him, even on the roomier floors.

Until Glisten paused suddenly. You stopped as well, asking him why he had done so.

"Look," He said, raising his free hand shakily to point. "There's... A trail of ichor..."

You directed your gaze at where he was pointing, met with a long smear of ichor that began a few feet in front of you. It seemed somewhat recent, as you could still see the light shimmering off of its wet surface.

You pointed out that it could have been left by Finn, although you hadn't seen him on this floor up till now, but the mirror simply shook his head. "No, it's too wide to have been left by him... He doesn't seem to be on this floor, either. Which means..."

It may have been left by Shrimpo. You were both thinking it.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before beginning to cautiously follow along the path, lead by the remains of the dark liquid.

It wound through the halls, taking a few turns and seeming to have lightly pooled in some places. You even happened upon the unconscious body of the twisted he had gone after at the start of the floor at one point, the shrimp clearly having beat them until they passed out. Ouch...

The trail tapered out into small droplets left behind from the remnants of the beatdown as it continued, slowly growing less frequent, before finally drying up altogether near the broken elevator.

Letting out a sigh, your gaze fell upon the end of the track, and as you turned to face Glisten, you saw it.

A flash of an ichor-stained shrimp tail.

It was your turn to point now, quickly shouting that you saw Shrimpo before sprinting in the direction you'd caught sight of him, dragging Glisten with you.

There he was. It didn't take long for the shrimp to take notice of you two, your footsteps thudding loudly against the floor as you ran. He appeared mostly unharmed, the only evidence he had attacked someone at all being a few extra splashes of ichor on his shirt.

Glisten sped ahead of you, and it was your turn to be dragged along.

He called the other's name, letting go of your hand to meet him with a tight hug. You caught up soon after, being invited swiftly into both of their embrace.

Shrimpo warbled something you couldn't make out, but what remained of his voice was clearly filled with something like joy.

"Oh, Shrimpo, we were so worried for you..." Whined the mirror, to which you voiced agreement. "Please, stop running off like that!"

The shrimp in question simply let out a huff. Obviously, he thought he was in the right for going after that other twisted earlier... Of course he did. Classic Shrimpo.

He was a lot sometimes, but moments like these where you three were happy and content together made it all worth it.

You love each other, and that's all that matters.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

hi, like your writing alot, can i request ej with an so who likes to kiss his scars/him in general in an attempt to make him feel better?

Helloooo I hope you enjoy, I'm feeling a lil wonky myself today, so I tried to make this fluffy for you

Jack tries to insist oftentimes that he's perfectly fine and dandy, although that's not quite true. Most days he is alright, but there are a lot of times when his past and his trauma overwhelm him, where he gets incredibly depressed and despondent, but he does his best to hide it behind his stoic personality. To you, however, who knows him so well and notices all his signs and tells that could slip past others, it's quite obvious when he's in a depressive rut, as he is right now. It's upsetting to watch him try and work through these things alone, so of course you want to be there for him to help him, and the best way to do that is usually through physical affection. You've made it a routine to try and soothe him with touch, as you've found over time that he benefits greatly from it, as touch-starved as he is, and today is no different.

Being nocturnal, he usually doesn't wake up until late in the afternoon, and when you find him today it's obvious his lethargy is hitting him. He's normally up and getting dressed, but today he's lying in bed buried under the covers, showing no signs of moving anytime soon. As you move to crawl into his bed beside him, he turns immediately, sighing as he shoves his face into your chest and pulls you firmly against him, trying to snuggle all of his worries away. You're the only person he truly lets his guard down around, and as you move back to look at his face, the depression and worry lines are clearly sinking into him, and you're quick to cover his face in kisses, causing surprised noises to rise from him, but they're quickly replaced by purrs, his feline ears relaxing and his tail swishing back and forth. Your eyes trace over the various scars across his skin, scars Jack tries (and often succeeds to, due to his lack of vision) to forget about, your fingers moving to trace them gently. His body tenses a bit at the feeling of you caressing them, but the purrs continue to leave him as he headbutts into you gently, but you continue to do what you always do and move your lips across his scars.

It always flusters him when you do so, giving him a deep feeling in his chest he's not sure how to process, a feeling that makes him a little uncomfortable as he's not used to feeling it, but at the same time he doesn't want you to stop. He can't see the scars across his skin, some of them from work, some of them from the night he became a demon, some of them inflicted by his own hands during his darker nights, but he hates them. He can't see how they make him look, but the more insecure parts of his mind tell him they must make him look even more monstrous, and it's a sore spot for him, so for you to treat them so delicately, for you to lovingly kiss them in an attempt to make him feel better, it just deeply flusters him in a way he never thought he'd feel. Your repetitive attempts to do this to him over time have soothed his worries a lot, but it doesn't make him any less embarrassed every time you do it. It makes him happy that you love him so much, that you accept him and cherish him despite what he perceives to be flaws. He feels himself relaxing and his negative thoughts leaving him as your lips gently work their way across his face now, and his nose scrunches up when you intentionally try and tickle him with butterfly kisses, causing you to laugh at his adorable expression. It's a repetitive process you like to do, one that brings both of you joy, and while Jack never thought that it would do so, he feels so at peace knowing he's finally found someone who loves him enough to do things like this. While he was originally so shy about you doing things like this, there are lots of days where he finds himself missing this, finds himself wanting to find you, and ask you to do this to him, but you always seem to know just when he needs it. He loves you more than he ever thought he'd be able to love anything, and the fact that you clearly care about him so much increases that love tenfold. He feels himself drifting back off to sleep as you continue to kiss all over him, a smile on his face as peace runs through his mind, all thanks to you.

[penelope-potter]

Small Box~

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Owl Hybrid! Reader

Summary: You and Alastor are about to renovate the Hotel after the Extermination, so you tried to repair what you could. Including the big wooden closet, Charlie got from her Dad. Since she's Incredible sad that it's broken you two decided to help her. Unfortunate that the closet closed you two up inside.

Part two

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"It's all broken..." Charlie looked at her old closet, close to tears. The other residents and you watched her quietly as she went around the wooden doors and tried to push the broken hooks back in the right place. She looked so sad. "Charlie-" "It was from my Dad..." Charlie didn't let her girlfriend finish her sentence. Instead she turned around to look at us. "...I always hide in there as we played hide and seek." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry it-it's stupid. It's just an old closet-" "No i'ts okay." You said, stepping closer. "I know how it feels when something what's important to you got crushed." You gently stroke her back and smiled. "We can try to put it back together if you like. We have so much material left. With a few new screws this will look like new." Charlie smiled, her eyes all watery. "Really?" "Of course." "Well my dear don't you cry no more. I'm pretty sure that (Y/N) and I are perfectly capable of repairing this old...fond thing of yours." Alastor suddenly appeared behind you as you turned around, and froze. It was something in his presence that leaves you thrilled. His appearance screamed 'stay away from him' but all you could feel was the desire to come closer to him. The only thing what was not as terrifying as anything else, is his voice which was somewhat soothing. You know about his 'no touching' rule better then anyone, but as someone who was very touch starved, this was hard to control. Especially when you were so close with everyone else.

But you liked him, so you stay away from him as far as possible, only admiring him from afar. Only when he's talking with you you jump in, but you never found the courage to talk to him directly. That he's now dragging you both in this boat is more than nerve wrecking than you could have imagined. You stood there awkwardly, while the others came up with excuses to not help you both. You glared to Angel who was only grinning like an idiot as he shut the door behind you two. You sighed. "Alright dear! Any ideas how to start with this old thing..." He lifted the door with his cane and raised an eyebrow, his smile never fading. It bites on your tongue to tell him that he basically could just miracle the damage away, but you remain silent. It wouldn't be right for Charlie. You wanted to repair it the real way. "Well, How about we do something about the shelves first? They are loosen and look like they're about to fall every second." You said and walked in the direction already, he still stood there and watched you as you tried to pull them out. "Shit." You cursed as you couldn't found the grip to pull them out. They were smashed into the back wall and as you already were about to come up with a solution how to fix that, you could hear footsteps behind you. "Here, let me help you sweetest." You could feel the flush of your cheeks as he leaned against your back and grabbed the shelve with both of his hands, incredible close to your own. His back was pressed against you and you froze as you could feel every muscle of him flex. You was used to his touch when he wanted to. But this was something new. "Come on pull!" You jumped a bit but pulled, as at the same time you could feel his breath against your neck. You tried your best to ignore it but this whole situation made your hands sweaty so you lost grip of the shelve and bumped into him once more. He held you at your arms, steadied you for balance as you jumped away from him. "Sorry!" You said in a high pitched voice and turned your head away from him. The heat unbearable in your head. "I-I think we should try to rip them out from underneath it...o-otherwise we won't be able to pull them out." You babbled and took a step into the surprisingly huge closet. You looked up and tried to figure out how to push the shelves out as you could feel him next to you again. "It's alright dear. You look kind of nervous. Is everything alright?" You hit your head as you wanted to come up again. "Y-yes! Of course..." "Then tell me, why are you so nervous right now?" He titled his head like a freaking dog. "I'm not I was just careful. I know that you don't like to be touched. That's all. I don't wanted to make you uncomfortable..." You said embarrassed- suddenly very aware of how awful kind of a joke you made of yourself.

He laughed, which made the whole thing not easier for you. "Oh darling don't be silly. It's alright when it's you." He leaned forward and you stepped back until your back hits the back wall. "Very funny..." You smiled crooked and turned around to get a hold of the doors. "Well maybe we should-" "Is that the reason you are avoiding me dearest? Because you are scared of me?" He teased. "I'm not scared of you, I just don't want to cross your boundaries that's a way of showing respect!" You snarled back at him, he still smiling and looking like he was enjoying all of this while you still fumbled over the door. "How adorable...but it makes me kind of sad to see you being so touchy with the others but me..." You tried to ignore him as he stepped into the closed next to you, you letting the axes swung back into place. "I did it-" Your sentence broke as the doors of the closet swung back, pulling you two inside. "Shit!" You cursed and could hear Alastor fall back on the side and you tripping over his feet. The next thing that happened was that the closet fell back with you two still in it, and you two collapsing and ended up tangled with each other on the floor. "Outch..." You said, he groaning. You needed a few seconds to bring the picture into place, and the shock ran through you like a thunder. You fell directly on top of the demon, the doors right above you keeping you both shut in itself like a cage. "Oh fucking hell, I'm-I'm sorry I'll get us two outside of this thing..." You apologize and tried to push you up finding a spot for your hands other than his chest, but failed miserably. You knocked your elbow against the doors but nothing happened. "I think it won't open..." He said, but instead of anger in his voice, it was calmness. "Yeah I see that..." You sighed and blinked. The little gap between the doors let a bit of light in so you could see him smile teasingly. "Well, since we're stuck in here, this is a great opportunity to get along with each other." You only hovered a few inches above him, trying you best to bring so much distance between you as possibly as he grabbed your hips pulling you onto him again. You were glad that it was so dark in here so he couldn't see the red in your face. "You're shaking. God you are such a sweet thing..." He sung as you only gripped the collar of his coat tighter. "Stop teasing me!" You said, he chuckling. "You like hugging don’t you?" He sung and let his claws wander over your tights. It brought shivers down your spine. "Alastor..."

"You don't need to be afraid of me. You are far too dearly to me to kill you. I grew fond of you dear." He let go of you, spreading his arms as much away as possible in this little space you got. "No false formality's. Go ahead, we will stuck in here for a little while until they find us.” You started at him in this almost completely dark box and hesitated a bit before you raised an eyebrow but slowly placed your head on his chest. “You could just do one of your magic tricks and get us out of here.” You said, ignoring the fact that your head is burning and you were suddenly very aware of where your body’s touching. His chest rose relaxed up and down, but his heart pondering in his chest. You could feel the vibration from his laugh as he lay a hand on your back. “Oh yes I could. But I think the King of Hell layed a little magic trick on it, so it’s blocking my powers.” You raised your head to look at him. “Really?” You asked surprised as you could feel his nose was just a few inches away from yours. “Sorry…” “No need to.” He sung and his grin grew wider. Fucking tease. “And yes dear, so I think it takes a bit of time for the others to find us.” “They will ask us why we didn’t called for help.” “Oh we tried but nobody heard us, so we just waited…” He let it sound all so easy, when in reality every inch of your body was heating up as he shifts slightly to change into a more comfortable position. His legs were spread to make way for your own, and you could feel his hip bones against yours. You tried desperately to ignore the fact of feeling every body part about him right now and just tried to steady your breathing. “Oh so stiffed up. Tell me dearest why do you act so nervous around me? What’s the matter? Do I frighten you so much?” He asked and you let out a shaky breath. “No. Like I said before I just wanted to respect your boundaries. Plus I don’t know if you’re just playing with me and now I went straight into your trap and I’ll regret it once we get out of here…” You muttered the last part but it was enough for him to hear it anyway. Even though you were right about it, he was shocked that you thought he would do that to you too. He sure was teasing you and invaded your personal space often, but this was just the way of showing you he cares. Somehow. You couldn’t know it, he realized now. “I’m offended that you think so low of me…” He started, as his hands wandered to your hips again. You gasped and he chuckled. “I guess since nobody’s going to hear us I can say it to you directly.” He started and his gaze wandered over your face, taking every inch in his view. The bit of lights which falls in, was enough to let you appear like a holy thing that got lost in hell. Some gem he found in a rotten place and now he’s going to pick it up, not letting anyone who ever dare to lay a finger on it go away with it. You were far too pure, too kind and far too good hearted to let anyone else find you. He would keep you close to him. If you would only let him. “Don’t you see it in the way I’m always close to you dear?” He titled his head as far as he was able to.

“...you were just too busy trying to make up space for me that you couldn’t see that I was just asking you to come a bit closer.” His words slapped you like a brick. He actually wanted you to touch him? Be close to him? “Why didn’t you just told me?” You asked offended. “Why didn’t you just asked either?” You sighed and dropped your head on his chest again. “So you don’t mind my presence like the others?” You asked, a slight smile appearing on your lips. He grins mouth closed while he trailed his nails down your spine, which makes you shiver. “No, not at all. You just have to ask and I’m yours.” You laughed a bit. “What’s so funny?” “I don’t know. I desperately search for intimacy in others, but no one really felt this right like this one.” Silent was filling the space you were in and you already thought you did something wrong as he gentle took your head in his hands for you to look at him. “Oh dearest…” He started, his claws wandered over your cheek. “Although I despite physical touch, I might catch myself liking it a bit more now.” You eyes widened as his own started glowing. Your heart starts to race as the wrinkles on each side of his eyes started to get deeper as he laughed. “Only when it’s you of course.” You couldn’t do anything than just stare at him. “Uhm...I don’t know if I can believe you Alastor.” You said, he shook his head. “Why, of course you can. Let’s make a deal…” You instantly pushed away that your back hit the door. “I won’t make a deal with you.” “No not with your soul silly.” He waved it off and grabbed your hips again to pull you down on him. His voice suddenly very close to your ear. “I assess that words will be enough to keep your promise.” You almost forgot how to breath. In which kind of situation did you brought yourself in for fucks sake? Despite the strange atmosphere you couldn’t deny the fact that he had this effect on you. You would let him do anything in this moment, but you were still aware that making a deal with him won’t be on the list today. “And what kind of deal should that be?” You asked, still uncomfortable to use that word in front of him. “Let me think...you have the allowance to touch me every day. It must be a different spot and the time how long it last will increase each time. You don’t have to ask me for that.” You raised an eyebrow, his eyes lost the shimmer of red and you scanned his face in the darkness, in hopes to find the wrong intention. “And what will it bring to you?” You asked, he raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me-”

“I mean: you don’t have to do this. Where is the ‘But’?” He laughed a bit before pressing you against his chest, so that you could barely breathe. “My advantage is, that I’ll have you close to me for a little while without you running away anymore.…” He smiled softly and it made your head swirl. Was he serious? “You’re lying.” “I’m not darling. I adore you but I think you got the wrong picture of me.” He titled his head. “I would never do harm to you, so you don’t have to worry. I just want to know you better.” He looked at you for a while until his gaze lowered to your lips as you could made out in the dark. “I guess I’m not very good at courting…” For the first time there is something in his acting that just don’t make sense. Suddenly he’s all flustered, you could swear he even blushed a little, and his expression similar to a little boy in front of his first crush. You were amazed by him in every way possible and you were sure that you wanted to find out more about him too. How his real self was. Because you are pretty damn sure that there is another version of him he just doesn’t show to anyone. “I like that.” You said, he caught you smiling genuine for the first time since you were stuck in here. “Like what?” “Your true self.” You said, leaving him speechless for a moment. His hands innocently fiddling with the end of your shirt. “Oh but this is my true self dear.” You smiled crooked. “No it’s not. You may be smiling all the time, but I’m able to read eyes Al. You don’t have to pretend that you don’t have a side you just don’t want to show everyone. And that’s okay. Totally. I get it. Because...when we’re already about telling the truth to another… I want to learn more about you too.” You titled his head and allowed yourself to admire him and his startled gaze for a moment. “There is a reason I respect your boundaries. And I don’t know if you know this, but it’s because I really like you. But when it’s as important to you as it is for me to trust you more, then you might as well show me the real Alastor. And I will show you my true self too of course. But only if you let me.” He looked at you bewildered and came up to fully hug you. “Alright. I wonder how this will work out for us dear. It’s a deal.” You smiled. “Yeah it’s a deal then. Sadly I can’t shake hands right now…” “Oh there a many ways to seal a deal sweetest…” He raised his head and as you were about to ask him how, he already pressed his lips against yours. Your eyes snapped open as green light flashes the inside of the closet, so bright it brought you to close your eyes. You could feel him licking your bottom lip and the vibrations running wild inside you so you let him in. Your hands were shaking as your tongues danced together, and he could feel it so he took your hands into his and pressed them on his chest right there where his heart sits. You let go of each other, panting and the green light only a mist left. “I look forward to our little deal.” He winked at you.

“Now dearest, make yourself comfortable.” Your head dizzy from the kiss and speechless, you saw how pleaded he looked, dreamily placed his head back and his hands stroking yours a last time before wrapping his arms around your body. You lied your head on his chest again and relaxed. He sighed, almost in relief as you slowly relaxed. Even if you wanted to say something you wouldn’t have brought it over you right now. Suddenly you felt tired and his warm, soft body against yours was like a piece of heaven in this old closet in hell. It was the thing you always wanted to feel. The intimacy you needed. And he gave it to you. You only hoped he was serious and not just wanting your soul. But you trusted him. And if this would be your downfall, then you might as well accept the hell you grew fond of. The loud exciting voices which rang through the thick walls of the closet were only a distance sound for you both as you felt yourself slowly drifting into sleep. You never manage to fall asleep this fast and you couldn’t care less, because you only heard the demon’s fast beating heart.

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Finished! You wanted the small space trope, so you got the small space trope! This turned out a bit shitty so I'm sorry if it's not like you thought it would turn out. :(

[mintaikk]

You Know What? Fuck It. Jealous & Clingy Vox Headcanons

"Angel quit?"

Come on. Yall saw how happy he was at the possibility that Angel quit. How can I not make my silly little- sometimes fucked up bcuz look at them- headcanons?!

-Vox and Val aren't dating, but Vox would very much like for them to be an item, but either doesn't know how to voice it or just thinks what they have right now is fine. That doesn't mean that he won't get a little (a lot)! jealous when Val flirts with other people. But since they're on the same power level, he can't really do anything about it, so he just becomes quiter and does other things. Check his phone, wait it out, be a petty little bitch in the corner, etc, etc

-When Val is done flirting with them and him and Vox are alone again, Vox has one of two reactions; be extra physical or affectionate or be a petty little bitch. It really depends on his mood. When he becomes extra affectionate, he'll cuddle up to Val or make out with him or they'll probably just fuck honestly. When he's being a petty little bitch, he'll sit there like a toddler and mope, sometimes ignoring Val. Val thinks both of this behavior is adorable either way, and sometimes flirts with people in front of Vox just to get a reaction out of him (read this person's comic to know what I mean, I love it sm)

-He's a needy, touch-starved bottom. Ya'll saw the way Vox pulled Val into a position where his arms would be wrapped around him at the beginning of their dance (and Vox arching his back-), right? Y'know how after Val kisses someone he leaves his weird red spit behind? That appeared on Vox's mouth when Vox started singing Stayed Gone. Like, "Hey babe, can you give me a good luck kiss before I sing a disstrack for my ex?". He wants/needs physical affection so much and so bad

-I now also headcanon that he's embarrassed to ask for it in a romantic way, so he only does it 'accidently' or to fit the situation (like how he pulled Val in that position in the dance)

-Valentino has merch of himself and Vox bought some of it

-Yes, he stalks Val. That's actually canon

- Vox has so many cameras pointed at Val. Val is aware of this and sometimes performs for the camera in various ways. He honestly doesn't care surprisingly, since Vox isn't really gonna do anything with the footage other than be a voyeuristic little freak

(Tysm @that-oneforkmod for pointing this out. Ik he's being creepy, but I laughed way too hard at where the cameras are pointing and how down bad my guy is)

- Despite Vox's clinginess, Val can also be incredibly clingy and it can get on Vox's nerves. He'll get pissy when Vox won't hold him or give him attention and Vox will be annoyed, but when Val stops being prissy, Vox will then give him affection. (Litterally just "not talk to me I angy" "Ok"*leaves* "wait no, come back")

[ihni]

Bro, my first thought was that this would be HORRIBLE for Billy and Steve because the second Billy shoulder-checked Steve during basketball they would've hit the ground in front of EVERYONE. But then like. I thought more about it and it got worse.

Because Billy would kinda know that his soulmate is gonna be a guy, right. And he'd be doing everything he could to prevent anyone from ever finding out, so

He's been getting into massive arguments with Neil his whole life, every time his dad tries to get him into sports. When he's a kid his dad accuses him of being a pussy for shying away from really engaging with the team, never wanting to make contact with anyone, thinking that Billy's afraid of getting hurt while playing. Billy tries to push back as much as he can, he hates not being able to do anything to prove his dad wrong because he can't tell him the TRUTH, and he gets too angry to come up with a convincing lie.

He gets so paranoid about physical contact that he develops a reputation for beating the shit out of guys who so much as bump into him in the hallway at school. It happens a couple times. Some kid in his class will brush past him, not realizing who he is, and it scares him so much he lashes out.

Once he gets a little older he starts dating (girls) as much as possible. It's for his safety, he tells himself, and ignores the part where he just misses being touched so much he'll settle for whatever he can get. Which is not as much as he'd like, considering most of the girls his age are fucking terrified of him. (Moving to Indiana doesn't help much, he might have the advantage of being a relative unknown, but there's fewer girls who are willing to cozy up with a guy who isn't their soulmate.)

In short. Touch-starved Billy

And that fight at the Byers would go soooo differently....As in it probably would not happen at all, because up until this point they have not touched at all, and have barely interacted because they don't have basketball together and Billy's just been obsessed with Steve from a distance.

Then like. He shows up and Steve is being weird and Billy wants to touch him for all kinds of reasons, but he's also firmly against touching him for just as many. He's wound up and stressed and he can't lash out like he wants to, so he just ignores Steve and walks right into the Byers' house to take it out on the kids. He doesn't have the same hangups about pushing Max around, or Lucas. He knows neither of them could be his soulmate, so they're fair game.

But he's barely said two words to Max before Steve (who in this scenario has NOT been shoved to the ground and kicked, so was right behind Billy as he walked into the house) grabs his shoulder to get his attention, and they both hit the floor.

Which would be so interesting because it's technically the same result as the fight, both of them passed out (thought Max doesn't get to stand up to Billy), so the plot could continue as normal from there, except. Like. The kids are freaking out for entirely different reasons, Max is swearing them all to secrecy and worrying about what Billy's gonna do when he wakes up, and half of them are yelling about how much this does not matter right now because there's monsters to set on fire. Dustin's having a mild crisis about getting advice about girls a couple hours ago from a guy who might be gay now?? There's a debate about whether they should bring Steve with them after Max steals Billy's keys. Mike is uncomfortable with the idea and won't admit why. Dustin gets pissed at him. Lucas tries to breeze past the whole weird soulmate thing and focus on the fact that they'll need all the help they can get if they're gonna do this.

They do still bring him along, and leave Billy behind.

I feel like it would be so interesting for Steve to be trying to concentrate on fighting monsters and protecting the kids but there's this weird new soulmate bond thing distracting him, and he's so incredibly confused by it because it's with BILLY.

Meanwhile Billy wakes up alone in the Byers' house, and has a panic attack when he realizes what happened. His first instinct is to just get in his car and leave town because now this group of shithead kids know his secret and Neil was ALREADY pissed at him for losing Max, this is just gonna make things so much worse and he doesn't know how to deal with any of it. Except his car is GONE, and he has no idea where anyone is or why they took the Camaro. All he does know is that he can't go home right now, and he has nowhere else to go, but he just wants to run SOMEWHERE.

He'd end up avoiding Steve for as long as he can, and quite possibly just would not return home either. I feel like it would be incredibly awkward when Steve drives the kids back to the Byers' and Billy's sitting on the porch, chain-smoking and all hunched over like he's trying not to puke. No one knows what to say for a long moment, and then Billy just shoves past everyone, flees to his car, and drives off alone. I can see him trying to live out of his car for a good couple weeks, completely shutting everyone out, until Steve tracks him down and they actually talk.

(also side note, once they work their shit out and are actually settled into a relationship, Billy would be just. The clingiest. He spent so long avoiding touching people and now that he's allowing himself to he cannot get enough. He WILL be wrapped around Steve at all times.)

First of all, I love you. Just want to get that out of the way. Thank you for blessing my inbox thusly.

Second of all, this hits like half of all my buttons. Touch-starved, posing, secretly gay Billy who's hiding his fear behind a mask of anger? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP.

You got the kids' reactions exactly right, I could picture them so clearly in my mind. And Steve too, fighting monsters while trying to understand this new soul bond (which, how would that show? How would it feel and affect them?), and Billy freaking out and just ... "step one: need car. step two: who the fuck knows" and living out of his car because he's too afraid to go home. What would Neil do? Would he find out about it or would he just be angry that Billy ... left, and didn't come back? How does the soul bond affect Billy and Steve when it is new and they are avoiding each other, is that why Billy doesn't leave Hawkins? I suppose Billy would eventually have to go home since he's underage, how would that go? AAA SO MANY QUESTIONS, MY BRAIN IS ALIGHT WITH DELIGHT

In short; I'd like to order 80K of this please. Future clinginess on the side (to be enjoyed as a dessert <3)

Also thank you for this.

[bluemirrorangel]

Purly headcanons

Curly calls him Baby Curtis as an excuse to call Ponyboy baby

Everyone thinks that Curly’s a bad influence on Ponyboy but it’s actually the complete opposite not on purpose it’s just that Ponyboy laughs whenever Curly does dumb shit and Curly has absolutely no self-preservation and a desperate need to make ponyboy laugh.

Darry and Soda actually have no problem with the Shepherds or Curly as a whole, Darry in particular respects Tim and understands how hard it is to raise kids while being a kid yourself. they just wish Curly was less reckless.

They're both worryingly touch starved but in very different ways ponyboy is touch starved unknowingly like there’s an ache in his chest like he’s longing for something he just doesn’t know what, whereas Curly is very much a mixture of touch starved and touch repulsed like he desperately wants to be held but doesn’t trust anyone enough to admit it.

Curly has a shitload of nicknames for Ponyboy including but not limited to Ponybabe, Ponykid, Ponybaby, baby Curtis, and Pones whilst Pony just calls him Curls.

They didn’t really have a specific realisation moment about their sexuality they’d both always kind of known. For Pony it was more of a click, all the dots finally connecting in his head why he felt more curiosity towards Cherry than attraction, why his eyes were always perpetually glued to the male lead whenever he went to the movies, why he felt a strange kind of companionship with Johnny he’d thought that he was making it up before, that it was all in his head this weird energy between the two of them like they were alike in more ways than one. He’d almost managed to convince himself that it was true too that he was simply lonely and delusional, that was until one night at the lot he saw it, a flicker of a look shared between Johnny and Dally and then he knew he was right that they had more in common than they originally thought.

And then there was Curly dear god curly shepherd their friendship had been strong, to say the least, although incredibly ill-advised. They lost their brain cells when put together coming up with stupidly dangerous ideas in a constant need to entertain the other, they weren’t good for each other Darry had scolded him after he’d heard about them playing chicken together they were too competitive to know when to stop they couldn’t stay friends Darry had warned him the night Curly had broken his arm, they’d kill each other. Ponyboy supposed he was right but he didn’t care curly was wild and reckless and free and so, so alive he was like a supernova hot and burning too bright and out too soon. It was different for Curly. He’d always kinda known. Curly was the type of kid that craved attention of any kind subconsciously, and ever since they’d met ponyboy gave it to him willingly at that. It had always been Ponyboy even when if it wasn’t. Whether it was Paying extra attention to the boy in the back of his calculus class who always had his head stuck in a book or getting a little too close to other boys in the reformatory, particularly boys with bright green eyes and easy smiles.

Curly reads all of ponyboy’s favourite books well he tried but reading is boring and totally pointless considering cliff notes exists but he still tries.

[iactuallytryingtolovemyself]

Any diakko headcanons?

I do really like butch Diana, so I tend to sneak that in to my fics

my hc for Akko is that she was actually a top student in her regular school so she thought her top grades would translate well to witch school (it didn't) which would explain how she got in to a magic school without knowing any magic

also I think Diana likes to use positive words while Akko uses physical touch. Mostly bcs Akko is used to receiving feedback so to cheer her up Diana uses positive feedback to make her feel better.

I think also Diana is very touch starved mostly bcs of the walls she has put up not really allowing herself to get really close to people. Akko changes that of course. She challenges that notion and stays steadfast by her side which means a lot to Diana. And I do think after knowing Akko it not only improves between those two but also for her other friends. With her letting her walls down for Akko she allows herself to also let her friends in.

I think both of really grow as people after knowing each other

They do still argue but in a debate kind of way. in a flirting way. Like they debate what kind of tea is the best tea for like three hours while walking around luna nova then they kiss

but most importantly they're incredibly silly, messy, cute, funny and argumentative. And I wouldn't have them any other way!!

Thank you for this ask it was fun to answer

[bunni-v1]

Congrats on the 500 followers!!<3<3 may i request full list of the sfw abecedary for azul maybe?? 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

🍓YAY!!! I love Azul sosososososososo much. I've been politely waiting for this for a while, and since you're the only one who requested sfw for Azul, I get to do yours first. God, though, writing out the whole Alphabet has been such a challenge for me...

A - Affection: See, Azul is a private man. He enjoys his time alone and his personal space, so it might shock you when I say he is a very affectionate man. He adores you so much, he can't help himself. He's also incredibly touch-starved, so he very much needs this affection. He won't be caught cuddling up to you in public, but goodness he's all over you when you're alone.

B - Best friend: Honest to god friendship with him feels like a business transaction. He's constantly on edge acting like you're holding a knife to his throat to get him to do something for you, but you're just vibing. Still, he's quite fun to be friends with. You hear all the latest gossip, and he's very sassy and goofy - casually dropping the funniest jokes you've ever seen.

C - Cuddles: Oh he loves cuddles (in private). He loves to be held and snuggles up into your chest without a care in the world. If you want to do the same, be his guest. Please let him hold you, he feels so big and strong. He runs cold, however, so you'll never quite get a comfy warm snuggle, but he's very comfy to lay on so it's not a big deal.

D - Domestic: Azul? Settle down? Please. He has a business to run... starting a family with you does sound nice though. He wants both power and love, so he has to find a balance between both -- he'd love to include you in his business schemes if you'd be willing. Makes things easier on him. Furthermore, at home, he is such a good househusband and father. Attentive husband, takes care of cooking and cleaning when needed, and spends all the time he can making sure his little ones know they are perfect to him as they are.

E - Ending: He SUCKS omg. He's so awful, and you won't even know it. If he doesn't want to be with you anymore, he doesn't really care about how much it hurts you (he does). He finds a way to twist the situation so that you're the problem. He picks and prods until either you break up with him, or you force his hand to make him do it. Afterward, he really doesn't feel relieved, but he's glad it's all over.

F - Fiance(e): Like I said earlier, he has a complicated relationship with commitment... but he does want to have that commitment. He does want to get married one day - for love, and he only wants to do it once. So it takes a long time for him to propose, but when he does you don't have to worry, because he's been locked in for a long time this is just his final sign that you're the one.

G - Gentle: He is so gentle with you. He has quite an iron tongue and is known to be sly as well as condescending, but not with you. Yes, he's sassy and a bit sarcastic, but he's soft on you. Everything he says is playful and light, and he makes you feel as though you are the most important thing in the world. (You are, in his eyes).

H - Hugs: As I've said, Azul loves all affections. Hugs, however, may be his least favorite? Surprisingly. It's not that he dislikes them, but once he gets to hold you he doesn't want to let you go. Hugs are brief, they end too soon. He wants you as long as he wants you. On another note, his hugs are amazing. He doesn't give them out to anyone but you and they are heavenly. They engulf you fully into his body, and they're perfectly tight and snug, and - ugh I want him to be real so badly.

I - I love you: Azul and "I love you," do not have a good history. He is so afraid to commit to you, so saying that he loves you takes a long time. It's not that he doesn't, it's just that he doesn't want to commit too fast. He doesn't want his hearts to be hurt. He waits a long time, and he has a huge plan on how he'll first say it, and then... he flubs it and says it out of the blue (we'll talk about it later).

J - Jealousy: Jealous, jealous little octopus man. When he was younger he didn't have much that was his, so now when he has something for himself he needs to keep it to himself. He gets huffy and grumpy and watches you from a distance as you talk to someone who is clearly coming onto you without a care in the world. He won't intervene as it's happening, but the person you're talking to quickly makes it to the top of his list of victims-- I mean, clients.

K - Kisses: Goodness, Azul is quite the kisser. He'll kiss you all over, all the time, whenever he feels like it. Is he good? Eh, it's fine, he'll get better. Kissing is a odd ritual that humans have, but he's become obesses with it since you started him on it. He favorites are cheek kisses, because he can give them quick and in passing without others drawing attention to it.

L - Little ones: As I eluded to earlier, Azul wants kids. He likes kids, believe it or not. He knows they can be cruel, but he also knows that they can be just like him, and he feels for them. They didn't pick the way they are, so why should they be outcasted. He drifts toward the quiet ones, and makes them feel seen and adored. It's quite cute to watch.

M - Morning: Azul's mornings are busy. He not only has morning classes, but he has to ensure his dorm is up and running before that. He gets up early to start everything, and he dressed and ready by 6:30 am the earliest. He makes sure not to disturb you, and actually has breakfast made and ready for you every morning when you wake up. While you hardly get to see him, he makes sure you're happy and well rested in his own way.

N - Night: Nighttime with Azul is considerably better than mornings. He's got a lot going on still, but it's things that he can sit down and do like paperwork or homework. Frequently you spend your nights in his office doing a number of different things quietly alongside each other. It's peaceful and sweet, especially when you doze off and he carries you over to his bedroom <3

O - Open: Azul is not an open man. He's too nervous you won't like who he actually is, so he puts on airs for a very long time. You sort of have to chip away and the front he puts up, and eventually he will crack. And once he cracks, he shatters, and he tells you everything all at once. All his feelings, his stressors, and his dreams get entrusted to you.

P - Patience: Azul has a lot of patience, he has to for his line of work after all. He can keep a level head through a lot of situations, but dear god can he get annoyed. He's easy to poke and prod at if you know how he ticks, and you know how he ticks. If you pick on him enough, he'll get all grumpy and huffy, but he won't really get angry at all. It's when you cross boundaries or really get in the way of his goals that he blows up - which is rare, anyway.

Q - Quizzes: Azul has like... a file on everything there is to know about you. He writes every single thing that he finds important about you down and stores it in a little file he can look back on for date ideas. It's part of why the two of you got so close, he just memorized everything you liked and made sure that he knew enough about it to talk to you.

R - Remember: It was the first time he said I love you. He'd been planning a huge date for months on months, ready to make the moment perfect, and you went and screwed everything over with your cute face and charming personality. You were reading in his office while he was working, it had gotten late - much later than he wanted, and you had come to his side to try and urge him to sleep. You were massaging his shoulders, talking about how sleepy you both were, and he just let it slip. You just... returned the sentiment, and continued to try and get him to go to sleep.

S - Security: Goodness, Azul is so very protective. You're an easy target to get to him, and lord knows how many people hate his guts. He can't do much but wave a contract over their head... but he has a secret weapon... It's the twins, duh, of course, it's the twins. They keep an eye on you - because he asked, but also because they like you. If someone goes too far, they have a nice little meeting with Azul later that day. He also wants you to stand up for him and his honor, it makes his heart soar that you love him so much.

T - Try: He's mister above and beyond. He makes sure every date is a standout and tries to outdo himself every single time. He wants you to know how much he listens to you and how much effort he puts into caring for you. He's so attentive and sweet and makes you feel like you are the most loved person on earth.

U - Ugly: He's very picky... about everything. He picks at food, his own appearance, and the way other people act and hold themselves. He likes things a certain way, and he sticks to his brand hardcore.

V - Vanity: Azul cares about his looks a lot. Not in the way it would get in the way of a relationship, but he's just very concerned about what people think about him. His appearance is one of his main concerns, and he pays very close attention to ensure that he remains attractive and good-looking.

W - Whole: Azul doesn't exactly feel incomplete without you, but he really does miss you when you're not around. You are, in his opinion, his second half, and of course, he misses you when you aren't around. However, he views you as two very separate people with different lives dreams, and ideas and he would never try to push the idea that you are half of him. Half of his heart, surely, but most certainly not of him.

X - Xtra: Azul takes great care to cover up the... less than human aspects of himself. See he's got a lot of octopus-esque traits about him that he would rather die than let other people know of. He's got three hearts, ovular pupils, and absolutely horrific eyesight above water (hence his glasses). He wears gloves to hide the fact that he has, uhm, what can only be described as suction cups on his fingers. He finds all of this so humiliating that he hides it as much as possible.

Y - Yuck: Too naive. He cannot handle having someone who has no grasp on other people at all. Sure, his partner can be a little dumb and not always understand other people's motives -- that's okay, that's what normal people are like. But if they can't ever read people's intentions and get themselves into bad spots he can't stand it. He's your partner, not your lawyer.

Z - Zzz: He is SO CUTE when he sleeps. He curls up into himself, and he sleeps in a tight little ball. He got used to doing that underwater, and he does it subconsciously on land because it's what's more comfortable for him.

[dance-like-an-idiot]

t4t whizzvin/dykesettos my children...

i have come bearing gifts...

set around thrill of first love where marvin isn't quite sure about his gender and accidentally asks whizzer (his girlfriend(?) who keeps telling him that she isn't a girl all that much) about it while they're both shit faced

1.1k words, whizzer's pov, whizzer uses all (mostly he/they in this one shot) and marv uses he/him (for now)

if you want more of this au check out the full plot i wrote!

under the cut is my writing screenshotted, then written out :3 enjoy!! (and reblog with your thoughts mayhaps?)

whizzer knows they're far too drunk when marvin asks them "what is it like to be transgender?"

whizzer, utterly baffled, sputters out a laugh that catapults her forward on the couch and he nearly hits his head on the coffee table because of their newfound drunken power. he laughs for far too long and laughs directly into the floor and their weight is slowly falling off the couch with every new laugh that racks her. "oh marv," he starts with a giggle. "i just hallucinated the funniest thing."

she keeps laughing and marvin teasingly punches their side —marvin's drunken power pushing him off the couch, whizzer was barely on it anyways— whizzer starts laughing even harder when his ass hits the ground and marvin's cute but upset pout doesn't alleviate it. "was that a hallucination?" he says with pretty, even while narrowed, eyes. he huffs from the couch and crosses his arms. "answer my question."

whizzer stops their laughs and has to physically steady himself for a moment while she tries to remember what he asked in the first place. something out of character, but funny, but something whizzer knows about... oh shit right. oh. oh. okay. yeah. thats pretty out of character from a transphobe, however charming this one is.

he blinks a few times as they leave their thoughts and he looks up to marvin. he meets his gaze and starts crawling back to her place on the couch, slightly dazed from the weight and firm reality of that question. they don't get up on the couch though, it's too far away and her (his) body seems too heavy for that right now. unfortunately marvin still sits on the couch a few feet opposite to him, and whizzer sits in front of him. it's a very familiar position, but surprisingly his mind doesn't wander. "um," he starts lamely. "bad." yeah, thats an understatement. "yeah." they nod their head, agreeing with himself. "yeah.”

marvin frowns and slides himself off the couch to sit next to whizzer. he pokes their arm and scoots incredibly close. he wraps his arms around whizzer's shoulders and drapes his legs across whizzer's lap. it feels like every part of their bodies touch, to whizzer's drunk, touch-starved delight. god, very, very drunk then. "tell me more, asshole." and whizzer's thoughts are snapped closed.

he pouts, facing marvin again. and well, he doesn't want to think about their gender or... anything at all actually. so he kisses him, attempting to shut their mind up.

marvin drunkenly reciprocates and it gets very heated very fast and once marvin starts unbuttoning his shirt the very idea of having boobs, cleavage, breasts, curves, bullshit on his body seems very revolting and he pushes marvin off very fast. "no. not now." he says and rebuttons the single button marvin undid on his shirt.

"why?" he asks. whizzer wraps his arms around his chest and subconsciously squeezes because marvin is so fucking smug its clear he thinks he's found something, and honestly, upsettingly, he has. he's impossible. and a bitch. and hot. ugh.

whizzer groans and flops their face into marvins open lap, squishing their breasts and all thoughts of them. "my boobs are revolting right now.” he drags his arms out from under him, if he's talking about it he'll be comfortable damnit. “sometimes it's fine, the days i don't wear my hair up or actually put on makeup. but its usually just when i look hot that i like my boobs.” whizzer stops themselves, but doesn't think, only talks. “i wish my chest was flat cause it doesn't look like me. especially when my hair is up and i wear your shitty masculine-full-of-urine clothes. cause i look and feel like a man then.

“i wish i was. but also not, like not a man man. dammit i wish i had a dick! a flat chest! god it would be so nice. i wish i could look like a man to justify feeling like a man. i feel like i'm just imagining it sometimes, cause i know tomorrow i’m not gonna feel like a man anymore. tomorrow i very well may love my boobs and pussy and have my hair down and go full glam.” whizzer takes a heavy breath, somehow sober enough to not speak his next thoughts; “am i a fake?” maybe. maybe she is.

they sniff back their tears and its the only sound in the room. the two of them just sit there, whizzer face down in marvin's lap for –surprisingly for them– non sexual purposes, and marvin…

marvin slowly relaxes and his hands caress whizzer's tense shoulders. it feels so fully like permission that he relaxes too, and keeps talking. “i wish i didn't always have to pass in order to not get punched whenever i go out. i wish i could go out into the world with a packer under a skirt, and my hair up, the hot makeup i can do so i look facially like a guy, a bubblegum pink polo and my goddamn leather jacket. i wish i could feel like myself, to everyone, without having to look over my back so i don't get hospitalized.

“i love looking like both of them so much, its so fucking cool and nice i’m too drunk to describe it right what the fuck…” whizzer trailed off in his endless ramble. he shifts his head to the side so their cheek was pressed against marvins ankle. "what was i saying...?"

"a lot," marvin responds with a light chuckle and whizzer just now notices that his hands have stilled. his hands climb up his back and he slowly starts to pet whizzer's hair. whizzer melts into him with ease, though marvin starts to melt too, entranced by whizzer's increasingly heavy breaths. whizzer notices marvin's legs part minutely, and marvin's arms feel heavy on them and they hear a soft groan from the coffee table.

he really is relaxing, then. good. these moments are rare, and lovely and seconds later whizzer can't say he's surprised when marvin's hands tense suddenly. "baby..." marvin starts but stops himself. that pet name is definitely surprising. good surprising. wonderful, but surprising.

whizzer turns around fully. his head is seated in marvin's lap still and he makes eye contact with marvin's tense face that is inches above the coffee table. he must have been resting on it.

marvin's face moves above him and calloused hands comb back into his hair, soft, slow, and only once. his thumbs brush softly through his undercut and whizzer is so content with this gesture that they don't even think about the face he makes, with their eyes shuddering shut. but it makes marvin speak again, quietly; "you're so handsome."

thats. thats a surprise.

whizzer doesn't know how or when but he's suddenly and passionately kissing marvin. he's so struck with joy from this person he loves (oh, sober him would never admit that) that he returns that joy in the way he knows best. because he may not understand this euphoria, or marvin's actions, but he understands sex pretty well.

when whizzer feels up marvin’s chest and the other man winces, he wishes one day he'll understand marvin better.

[one-and-a-half-yikes]

*inhale* Cuphead and Colly headcanons please😈😈😈

(Also perchance your opinion of coffeekitty (cup x Felix) mayhaps I live laugh love coffeekitty)

THE GODS HAVE GIVEN ME AN ASK!!!!

Okay okay starting with Colly hcs (because I don't think I have that many Cuphead ones)

These two would be such a chill fucking couple, but definitely capable of chaos every once in a while (it's Holly's fault lol). I like to think, in a relationship that Holly does get Cup into reading after at least getting him to try exploring some genres. Anything crime related is usually his go to though he did finally start branching out into other stuff. Ideally on a good day he's reading something from the adventure genre. After a decade spent involved in actual crime reading about stories, even if they're fictional, involving murders, killers, etc wears on him mentally and emotionally so he doesn't really read that anymore.

Snuggle time for these two is a must but it's usually initiated by Cuphead because he's touch-starved. Not that Holly's complaining, unless he's literally sweating in which case fuck that. And yes, this does mean that Holly is the big spoon in their relationship. Always. It's comforting for Cup, and sometimes when his mental health decides it's wants to plummet for no reason he just kinda flops near wherever she is. Sometimes "snuggling" for these two literally just means knowing the other is in the same room as them. Alive. Breathing. Especially for Cuphead who would still get the occasional nightmare of the Devil coming for him and taking everything he has away, including Holly. So it's nice to just sit on the floor and lean his head against the back of her chair if he knows she's working on something at her desk.

Because of everything involving Hat and his experiments done on him Cup's fear and unease around doctors does in fact extend to psychiatrists as well. So seeing a therapists is still incredibly hard for him. Enough that they had to settle for 40 minute sessions cause that's the amount of time Cup was willing to spend in a shrink's office. The first time he agreed to an hour session he got so antsy he was basically pacing the room like a caged animal. They went back to 40 minute sessions after that lol. Also, I do think Cup has other nervous ticks if he doesn't have a cigarette on hand. Which is probably why it took so long to get him to stop smoking. Because when he wasn't he was irritable and a nervous wreck. Best solution Holly could find was incense, but then when they got Dagger (wounded stray kitten Cup found and took in as a pet) she went back to regular scented candles. Somehow, that seemed to quell his anxieties.

Also they got an apartment instead of a house. Only cause Cup didn't like the idea of being in one and it wasn't like they were planning on having kids anytime soon like the others so it was more of "yeah sure why the fuck not".

I will say it here and now that these two have gone on sooooo many vacations. Listen that money that Cup has saved up for a rainy day. Null and void his Princess wants to go to fucking Japan so that's where they're going now. Whatever his queen wants ✨️

Too chill for fancy outings, I think they'd just hangout at cafés, diners, or try finding new street food to eat. Also concerts?? Soon as those become a thing fucking yes obviously (it was a one time thing and they both hated lmaooo). Fancy restaurants are reserved for anniversaries or special occasions when Cup wants Holly to fucking REST FOR ONCE. Because oh yeah she's not her mom entirely but she is a workaholic like her so yeah it's Cup's designated duty to drag her from her desk to bed. And hide the coffee on the highest shelf where she can't reach (this has never stopped her btw).

Also! Mentioning spooning again? Surely not me. Surely not I. As it stands, when they are going to bed, Holly gets to be the little spoon which works just fine for Cup cause it's the only way he can keep her contained (Holly sleeps like a fucking starfish okay and her hair being as long as it is means it's splayed out EVERYWHERE by the time morning rolls around)

Last thing I'll mention and it's a Cuphead hc is that I don't see Cup becoming a detective once he's able to be free from the Devil. Tbh I don't know WHY that's such a popular idea in the fandom because it seems completely antithetical to his character to me. You spent a decade involved in crime and committing the worst crimes a person could committ, just so you can jump right back into that but this time solving them? And we're supposed to assume that Cuphead has no problems with that? As an AU it's fine but canon-wise if you ask me I think he would work perfectly as a volunteer with animals. Either at a sanctuary, or at least at a shelter. I see him working at a shelter personally because that fits him. It's calming, he gets to spend time around cute animals, AND he gets to chew out irresponsible owners for not taking better care of their pets. It's a win-win!!!

(Okay I KNOW I just said I was done but rq I do think Cup knows a lot about animals as much as he does about astrology. But he doesn't get to usually gush about that so he's hiding his power level from everyone lmao)

Okay that out of the way this...coffeekitty you speak of...

First of all, that name is cute as hell and second. Idk, Cuphead and Felix have hardly had any real moment to TALK and stars knows they need to because I don't really think Felix gets the Cupbros still and there's still a lot of resentment there regarding Wilson, which is understandable but still-

It's interesting I guess but genuinely only see these two having a platonic relationship. That and also I already have a Cuphead in a gay ship (It's Cupex Cuphead x Alex [the bear not the cat] lmao)

[sunlessea]

“ you need to learn patience. be good and i’ll give you what you want later. ” - plot twist! nestsegg / nestsely :clown:

all i had for this ship was s.mut so uh 🤡 / @londonfallen

cassius helsing, now ashburnum, does not belong in the company of vampires. least of all their elders, the masters of the bazaar who had spread their curse among humanity with lacking remorse. he's their inevitable end, or at least that's what his family says. raised nearly from birth for the sole purpose of hunting and killing them, one by one : he's hardly a revolutionary, but the way the masters of the bazaar are prophesied to fall by his hands, one would think the name cassius to be a war cry for london's rebels.

he tries not to think about how disappointed anyone would be, if they knew. his own heart pounds 'gainst his chest in equal parts guilt, humiliation and excitement that he can't quite bury, even 'neath anger at this point half feigned. here he lies, the master's greatest enemy — and it's mr nests with his wrists pinned down, claws pressing as deep into his skin as its other hand is deep 'neath his slacks. they're tangled in a mess, the two of them, his own clothes ripped and ravaged to expose him, one leg half wrapped 'round its waist where he'd attempted to kick it and had ended up with one of its legs 'tween his thighs instead.

" — get off of me," his voice is torn between harsh growl and pathetic whine, his ears flat 'gainst his head in the same breath his tail is fluffed up a few sizes. no matter how hard he writhes against its hold, it just ends up with his blood on its nails, and every time his body moves, it purrs louder. he knows it's making fun of him, because they both know he truly could fight back harder if he wanted to ... but he doesn't! and that's largely the issue here, what makes his heart ache every bit the same as his body when its palm wraps 'round his erection and makes him whimper.

he's incredibly sensitive. touch starved at his best, completely untouched generally. the feeling is so intense he ends up kneeing it in its side with his leg, and all he can do is glare up at it at the same time he's blushing mad!

"this — this is morally reprehensible, get off of me! i don't — i don't want anything from—" its thumb presses against the head of his cock and he winces, voice choking up 'fore he can continue to protest too much. they would kill him. the garou would kill him if—this is illegal, this is against their— "a—ah—" all it takes is a little more pressure in the movement of its hand along his length for him to wilt proper, breath stalled and lip caught 'tween his fang. why! this is pathetic! "this is wrong—"