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fastcardotmp3 · 1 month

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welcome to dot drops something that's been sitting in her tumblr drafts for 4 months Saturday I hope you enjoy your visit mwah! Steddie; Ballet AU; Dancer!Steve; mentions of cancer treatment; 1.5k words

Dress rehearsal is supposed to be a mess.

That's the point of it, really, to get all the mistakes out of your system and start the actual show run with a clean slate. Or at least, that had been the point of which they'd all convinced themselves when Steve was the one performing.

Bad dress meant good show, or so the old adage went, and so at least there was some ease of worry with the collective understanding that it won't happen on the night within the company.

That was the case when Steve was a student, when he was an apprentice, even during his time in the big leagues at Joffrey, but right now? At the end of a truly abysmal dress in this run-down theater on the edge of a town from which he'd once run away?

Steve is not the performer. He's the guy in charge.

And so he spirals.

He'd never wanted to be a director or an instructor or the head of a studio like this. It had never been in his plans. Steve was a man of action, where the people who do these jobs are the brains behind the operation.

Steve knows how to work hard, how to force his body and even his mind into submission until he gets the steps just right, but this? These past six months back in Hawkins temporarily helping out?

(God, please let it be temporary.)

He's not built for this. He's sitting center stage after everyone has left with only half the house lights to illuminate his misery and he's not. Built. For. This.

Not built for being a mentor or a leader or a role model; not built to handle the strenuous nature of his mother's legacy; not built to carry the name she's made for herself as a teacher and a choreographer and a shaper of young dancers.

Steve's not built for it!

They'd had a shitty fucking dress.

"Hey, uh, you gonna be a while? I kinda need to close up for the night."

The voice echoes across the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and straight up to land on the Marley floors at Steve's feet. The stage isn't built for dancers, much like Steve isn't built to be here, so they'd had to pull up the floors from the studio and drag them halfway across town just to roll them out here.

"Hello? Are you, like, alive up there?"

Steve sighs. "Yeah," he calls back, catching sight of the figure talking to him at the back of the theater, the young guy who runs the place and who Steve met a grand total of three days ago. His name is Eddie and he dresses more like he's running a music venue than a local community theater, but he's mostly stayed out of Steve's way so far. "Sorry, I'll get outta your hair."

"Sure," Eddie says, but he's just sort of leaning against the back wall by the window to the sound and lighting booth without an ounce of urgency to him as Steve drags himself to his aching feet and lugs his three separate bags of show stuff onto his shoulders.

There's an energy to an empty theater, one which has held a performance and one which now holds the ghosts of that performance, which tugs at the anxieties sitting buried deep beneath the more immediate ones.

Fears about his mom's health, about what will happen to the studio if she doesn't win this particular battle, about what will happen to him.

There's an energy here in the creak of the steps which lead down off the front of the stage and there's an energy to the plod of Steve's sneakers up the long, racked aisle between the seats.

There's an energy, but it's also not empty, is it.

"Hey, good show, dude," Eddie says, pushing off his wall as Steve grows nearer. "Like, talented kids you've got there."

Steve scoffs before he can help himself and then pinches the bridge of his nose in a grimace for not being able to help himself.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he grits out, thinking about his bed. Thinking about how he never made time for dinner and he has to be here early again tomorrow.

"Wow, resounding confidence on this one," Eddie snorts, and when Steve opens his eyes it's to genuine amusement, genuine curiosity in the tilt of a head and furrow of a brow.

"No, just," he shakes his head, "you should see 'em when they're really on their game, y'know?"

Eddie hums, and when did Steve come to a stop right in front of him? He's leaving. He has to leave. Go home. Think about all the spacing corrections he needs to fix tomorrow and run through with the girls before show time.

"Bad dress, good show though, right?"

Steve startles. Maybe a little too visibly because Eddie is actively holding back laughter at the sight of him.

"What, I've worked at a theater for four years and I'm not supposed to pick up a thing or two about the ballet?" he snarks good-naturedly. "Caroline, the lady who did your job before you, she was a chatty one, taught me everything I know about Giselle."

It's a knife between the ribs. It's a soothing sort of heat, like from a roaring bonfire.

"You--" he clears his throat, "you know Caroline?"

"Highlight of the job honestly, before she retired," Eddie shrugs.

"She didn't retire."

"Oh. She...?"

"Chemo," Steve doesn't know why he's saying it all so willingly, why after months of trying to run the studio without having to talk about how's your mom doing, sweetheart? he's opening up to this stranger with the curly hair and curious eyes. But he knows her. He's-- Well, he knows her. "I'm just here to-- to fill in until she can come back. So."

Eddie is studying him now. Curious eyes turned intelligent, knowing, sad with the weight of realization.

"You're the wonder boy," he says on a breath like oh, I get it now.

"The what?" Steve balks.

"Her kid," Eddie says like it's simple. He's leaning against the wall again, like he's not planning on getting back to work anymore, "she was-- Shit, man, she loves the hell outta you. Oh, you should see my son, he's in Les Corsaire this season! Oh, my boy, he's just gotten promoted to soloist, he'll be a principal in no time! Oh, the talent on him, the--"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Steve cuts him off, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his chest in the process.

"You should tell her I say hi next time you see her," Eddie isn't remotely deterred by having his little, lilting performance derailed. There's a softness to him that deserves a smaller space, walls less prone to echo.

"I will," Steve nods. His bags grow heavy on his shoulders.

"And you should chill out a little bit," he says, this time with the kind of glint to his eye that needs a bigger space, needs to be up on the stage to the point where it has Steve floundering, "y'know, about the the shitty dress that, between you and me," he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "wasn't really all that shitty."

Steve sucks in a breath.

It strikes him somewhere old, the reassurance, somewhere young deep inside of him. The comforting from a mother that if he just works hard enough he’ll land that double tour in fifth some day soon, the unbroken promise that she would never give him special treatment as the son of the studio owner, but that she would never hesitate to reward him when he’d earned it on his own.

It strikes him because no one tells you how little reassurance the guy in charge is ever offered and it strikes him because it’s been such a long day and it strikes him because—

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

Eddie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and Steve sees it, the attitude on this dude that his mother absolutely would have loved in an instant. There’s a performer in there, even just in the brief interaction they’ve shared so far. There’s a spotlight pointing inwards and a show begging to be dragged out.

“No,” Eddie drags out slow and curious, “you offering, ballet boy?”

Steve needs a sounding board and he needs another set of eyes and he needs his mom to be okay and the show tomorrow to prove that he can handle this for her if she’s not, but maybe what he needs most right now, on the other side of a spiral in a dark and echoing theater, is this.

“Meet me at Benny’s in thirty,” he says simply as he makes his way for the door. “Since you’re such an experienced test audience.”

Eddie’s responding laugh is bright and his eyes glitter with curious amusement and maybe this is what Steve needs because maybe all of this is one big rehearsal at a big new life in and old small town.

And maybe this is his chance to make a mess of it. At least until the real show starts.

#dot fic #dot post #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dancer!steve #community theater!eddie #sometimes i realize i have over 50 drafts and just need to clear one out for my sanity and today is that day fdjlsakf #one day i'll write a fleshed out dancer steve au but for now have some of This

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matchingbatbites · 1 year

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2112 Days | Ao3 link

tw: memory loss

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn't know where he is. The last thing he remembers from the night before is the party all piled up in his living room, everyone too anxious to sleep, and now he's in a bedroom that he has absolutely no memory of.

He looks around the unfamiliar room, tries to get a sense of what the fuck is going on, and on the nightstand next to him, he finds a tape recorder sitting on top of a photo album. On the tape recorder is a sticky note, with the words 'play me' written across the yellow paper in scratchy handwriting.

Steve is so confused and frustrated, he doesn't have time for this, they have a plan to carry out. But something deep inside him keeps him in place. Tells him to play it. He picks up the device and sees another note on the album, this one reading 'open me', and he presses play on the tape recorder before grabbing the book.

There's a little bit of sound fuzz before a voice says "Good morning, Stevie!" and Steve blinks, because that's Eddie's voice.

"Today is Saturday, August 29th, 1992, and it's been 5 years, 9 months, and 12 days since we killed Vecna and closed the gates permanently."

Steve's hand jerks out and stops the tape, his breathing picks up because what the fuck? That can't be right, they're supposed to fight Vecna today. That's why they all stayed at Steve's house. One more sleepover, one more chance to be there for each other before they have to split up, before they have to finish the job.

He takes a moment to just breathe, lets the words sink in as he opens the photo album. It takes him a second to realize it, but the first picture is of himself, in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head and a tube down his throat. He looks bad, and he doesn't remember a single second of it.

There's more of that scratchy writing just below it. ‘November 20, 1986. Taken by one of Owen’s guys.’ The next page has a doctor's report, and Steve sees the words 'brain injury' and 'short term memory loss' before he continues.

He flips through the album, sees more pictures of himself that he doesn't remember being taken. Each one has a date next to it, and some have a little description to give him context. There are photos of him with the party, with Robin and Eddie and Nancy, and there are news articles scattered amongst them, important things he should remember, that make his head hurt when he tries too hard to do so.

There are pictures of Nancy and Robin's graduation from college, Wayne's wedding to some woman named Cynthia, the grand opening of Jonathan and Argyle's pizza shop.

A photo of him and Eddie, wearing tacky sweaters and kissing under mistletoe, with the description '1987, Our first Christmas together', and oh, that's something that sends tingles up his spine. He'd had more than a crush on Eddie before their second run in with Vecna, but he hadn't had the courage to do anything about it before they ran head first into danger, again.

Are he and Eddie together now? Like, together together?

The answer seems to be yes, because the next few pages are just more photos of him and Eddie, most taken by Eddie himself, his arm stretching out to capture the moment. Pictures of their first apartment, multiple anniversaries, the day they got their cat (Lucy is written next to this one in Steve’s handwriting, along with a little heart).

And then a photo that makes Steve's heart stop. It's them again, standing on a beach, hand in hand as they face each other. They're both barefoot, wearing slacks and nice shirts, Eddie's a deep, wine red, and Steve's a soft baby blue, and the love on their faces is blinding.

The description says 'June 15, 1991, Our wedding. Not legal, but very, very real.'

And Steve looks at his hand, for the first time sees the gold ring on his finger, like it's perfectly happy at home there, and he thinks he might start crying.

On the bottom of the page is his own handwriting, a small addition that just says 'play the tape.' Steve glances over, presses play again with a shaky hand, and Eddie's voice starts up once more.

"You got pretty banged up during the fight, and your many knocks to the head finally caught up with you. You have some extensive brain trauma, and your short term memory is basically non-existent.

"It's okay, though. You're not alone, you've got tons of people that care about you, baby. The Upside Down stuff is all over, there haven't been any blips on the radar or anything. The kids are all okay - scattered to the wind, but okay.

"Robin's in town today, we're meeting her for lunch at noon, but you've got plenty of time before then. Finish looking through the album, and as soon as you're ready, come find me in the house. Just follow the sound of music, baby. I love you."

The tape ends, and Steve takes a minute to process. He flips through the rest of the album, pictures dated all the way up to a month ago, when he and Eddie had apparently visited Nancy in New York.

It hits him that this is real, this is his reality. He looks at the tape recorder, thinks that this must be an everyday thing for Eddie, and he's suddenly overcome with emotion for the other man.

He climbs out of bed and grabs the tape recorder before he heads out of the room, hears music coming from somewhere, and follows it to a kitchen.

And there's Eddie, with his hair pulled up into a messy bun, wearing sweatpants and humming along to the tape that's playing on a nearby stereo. There are more tattoos inked into his skin, more piercings in his ears, and Steve can see that yeah, he has aged a little.

"Eddie?" he says softly, and the older man turns to look at him with a bright smile.

"Morning, Stevie. How are you feeling today?"

Overwhelmed, Steve thinks, but he swallows hard and holds up the tape recorder. "Do you record these for me every day?"

Eddie's smile softens at the question and he motions Steve closer. "You ask me that too often, like you just can't believe I'd do something like that for you."

Steve goes over to him, sets the device on the counter as one of Eddie's hands settles on Steve's waist, the other moving up to cup his cheek. "I can't believe it, it's so-" Kind? Selfless?

Steve doesn't have the proper word to describe it, and it only adds to that overwhelmed feeling. Eddie's thumb strokes over his cheekbone and he hums softly.

"It's worth it for you, sweetheart. After all the shit we’ve been though, that you’ve been through, you deserve a normal life, and I swore do everything in my fucking power to make sure that happens."

And Steve is definitely crying now. The fact that Eddie has been doing this for almost six years, that he's stayed by Steve through it and hasn't given up on him? The effort he’s put into helping Steve feel somewhat normal? It's too much for Steve to comprehend, and Eddie pulls him into a tight hug, mutters softly softly into his ear as he starts to sob.

"I know, baby. It's okay."

They stay like that for a while, until Steve's tears slow, then stop, and he's able to breathe normally again. "Sorry," he mutters and scrubs a hand over his face, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Don't apologize, Steve. This happens sometimes, and it's perfectly okay. It's a lot to process all at once, and we just take it a day at a time, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Steve says, and takes another deep breath. He thinks back to the album, to the photos of him and Eddie, and he knows exactly what he wants in this moment. "Will you kiss me, please?"

And Eddie smiles, says "Of course, honey."

It feels right when Eddie kisses him, and it's weird, because he doesn't remember ever kissing Eddie before now, but it's like his body does, like it knows all of the steps to this dance that his brain can't remember.

They stay in the kitchen for a while just kissing and talking, Eddie answering all of Steve's questions with such patience, until it's time to go meet Robin.

Later that night, just as Steve is dozing off, he feels Eddie pull away before getting out of the bed.

"Where 're you goin'?" he mutters, and Eddie cards a hand through his hair.

"Gotta go record your tape for tomorrow. Just go back to sleep, baby."

Steve hums his disapproval and hears Eddie chuckle, before a kiss is pressed to his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, gorgeous."

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn't know where he is.

#i love 50 first dates and brain-injury-haver steve so i combined them together #they live in a tiny queer beach side town #and everyone knows steve and his condition #and they're all super supportive and helpful #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #joey writes #2112 days

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saradika · 1 year

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— fall florals

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please like or reblog if you use 💕

#pulled from canva and colored/arranged by me #it felt like such a perfect Fall day today #rainy and overcast and high 50s - I loved it #these might be my fave yet!! such cool designs 🌻#dividers #borders #fic dividers #resources #theme: flowers

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yangjeongin · 2 years

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your year in every color . . . happy birthday BANG CHAN!

#bang chan #stray kids #bystay #createskz #malegroupsnet #chan #*gif #*ccarly #*carly:chan #*chan #*series:bday22 #this one is kinda weak but i am so tired sorry chan try being born earlier #love you though...#hope he has the best day and that everybody celebrates him bc he is always focused on everyone else!!! chan day it's chan day it's for U #sometimes i think abt that interview skz did for tumblr and the fact that they know tumblr exists #which means they inevitably have searched themselves on tumblr. have they seen our gifsets or just weird fic? who knows #but bang chan if u happen to see this i love you and you are doing amazing happy quarter 50 <3 #i am tearing up for some reason . i care him so much he deserves so many good things. blaming how exhausted i am for this. one bdayset LEFT #*hits

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chrollohearttags · 3 months

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these hoes don’t be mad at me, they be mad at No Child Left Behind.

#the girls can’t read and been making it black writers problem ever since #leave us the fuck alone #‘all y’all write are plug and baby mama fics’#shut the fuck up #if I put a keep reading line in front of y’all you’ll start crying #if it’s not 50 words with ten men’s names listed on it #y’all literally don’t have the attention span for it quit playing with me #you bitches reading comprehension is giving cat in the hat #y’all are not worth spending days working on a fic for #cherry chats 🍒

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sigskk · 1 month

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sooo i started thinking about pacific rim again

[ID: A traditional drawing of Sigma from Bungo Stray Dogs on lined paper, wearing a drivesuit from Pacific Rim. The drivesuit resembles a mecha-style suit of armor. His full body is shown, standing and leaning more onto his right leg. His right arm is awkwardly sitting near his waist, and his left hand is brushing his bangs from his face. The plates of armor are white, whereas the suit underneath is black. He's looking off to the right with a neutral expression. End ID.]

#late night sig doodles #lord my body has been against me these past few days. i started writing a pacrim!au fic for another (nonexistent) fandom #bc i couldn't take my evening nap. 😞#anyways this is sigma he's not a ranger he's just a PPDC officer. like LOCCENT mission control yk.#he knows how to pilot a v-50 jumphawk but he's never actually been deployed. he just can.#idk. maybe not an officer but if he had to fill that role he probably cld. but i do think he would be in mission control #OMG PACRIM SIGSKK #DRIFT PARTNERS DAZAI CHUUYA MISSION CONTROL SIGMA SO REAL AND TRUE #i'm so normal. please someone talk to me about pacrim!bsd #[ my art ]#sigma #sigma bsd #bsd sigma #sigma fanart #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs fanart #bsd fanart #sigma bungo stray dogs #pacific rim #pacific rim au #pacrim au #pacrim bsd #please please please be a tag

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analogwriting · 2 months

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Star-Crossed

Chapter 12: Sartse

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 3.6k a/n: i want y'all to know that for a couple of doffy's lines, i pulled it straight from the manga so i had to read THAT scene again and i ugly cried once more. had to step away from the computer and everything lmfao next

The speed in which you were flying into town could’ve instantly killed anyone who stepped into your path; hell you probably could’ve killed someone if they pulled out in front of you in a wholeass car. You made it into town in record time, a time that shouldn’t even be possible for the distance you had traversed. No cops seemed to be out and about to stop you either, which honestly checked out. They were worthless.

Whatever, it came in handy for you at this moment.

Something that no one except Marco knew, was that you had a secret entrance to the hospital that led right into your office - actually, it led to several different places. As someone of your social standing, you had to have a secret entrance/exit. It was important to be able to have a way out and a way in - specifically for situations like this. You had just hoped that you’d never have to use it.

As you were flying down the road, you looked at the security footage through your phone. Again, no one had this access except you and Marco. Sure, you had a security room with someone always monitoring things, but no one had remote access besides the two of you.

You pulled up the footage, trying to see exactly how much damage was being done. It seemed that the front of the hospital was fine; business as usual. It was the secret wing that was mostly taken over aside from a few of their men being posted in scrubs everywhere else. You knew all your employees by name and face, so of course you’d be able to tell who did and who didn’t belong. It looked like they had already let go of all of your underground staff. At least you didn’t have to worry about them.

You looked through the footage as you also kept an eye on the road, trying to find where everyone was being held. There wasn’t really anywhere in the hospital that you couldn’t see, so you knew you’d find them eventually.

And you did.

They were currently being held in a conference room in the secret wing; everyone being Corazon, Law, Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi. You nearly crashed as you saw Corazon laying there in his blood soaked shirt, not moving. Were you too late? You felt that creeping numbness starting to crawl into your very being. You set your phone down, leaving it open.

“How long do you think it’s going to take for them to get here? I’m tired of waiting,” Doflamingo complained, folding his arms and sulking as he perched on the table. Oh, you were glad you had cameras with sound - the extra money was worth it.

“Please, let me tend to Corazon’s wounds,” you heard Law plead. The sheer emotion in his voice made you press on the gas pedal even harder, sending you faster.

“Absolutely not. This is what he gets for betraying me. His life is in y/n’s hands now since he wanted to be with them so bad.” He huffed, shaking his head. “How can someone of your stature fall for someone so weak.” He scoffed.

You clenched your jaw, pressing a button on the visor of your car as you entered an alleyway. A garage opened up and you flew inside.

“He’ll die at this rate!”

“Let him then! It’s the consequences of his own actions.”

Your head was spinning. How could someone be so cold to the very people they were supposed to love and protect? You would’ve never guessed that…Anthony was just like him. That they ended up being cut from the same cloth.

“How could you do that to your own family?”

“If you keep talking, kid, you’ll end up with a bullet wound next.”

You slammed on your brakes next to a door, throwing your car in park and running up the stairs. You had an elevator, but it was going to take too long for you to use it. The staircase grew more and more narrow as you reached the top, ending in a small hallway that broke off into different parts of the hospital.

You navigated the small tunnel before slowly opening a door. It opened silently, the bookcase in your office in the secret wing opening. You snuck through, sticking low to the ground with a gun in hand. You were silent, listening.

You could hear Crocodile somewhere near the entrance to the secret wing talking with whatever cronies he had with him. He was in the opposite direction as Doflamingo, so you should be just fine. You’d have plenty of time before he’d get to the conference room should any problems arise. You took off down the hallway, your footsteps silent - just as you were trained.

When you reached the conference room, you dropped down again, below the window. You glanced inside, seeing that things have escalated. Doflamingo was pointing his gun at Corazon once more, the man now sat up. Instant relief washed over you as you saw him sitting there - alive. You had been so scared that you were too late.

Though, if you didn’t act fast - he wouldn’t be much longer.

“Why did you come back just to mess with me, Corazon?” Doflamingo demanded. “Why must I be forced to kill my family not once, but twice?” Forced? What the hell did he mean by that? He absolutely isn’t being forced to do anything. Is that what your father also thought? That he was being forced to do the things he did? A stupid lie to tell yourself to justify such terrible actions.

You heard him cock his gun, standing up immediately and taking aim. You shot through the window, shattering the glass. The bullet hit Doflamingo in the hand, making him curse and drop his gun as he cradled his hand. You kept your gun trained on him. “Don’t even think about moving,” you said as he started for his own gun. He stopped, glaring at you through his sunglasses.

The others looked at you with surprise, staring at you with wide eyes. You heard a chorus of voices cheer for your name, but you were focused on Doflamingo. “Step away from them.” He scowled at you, but stepped away. A grin spread across his face and you opened your mouth to say something when you heard a click of someone loading their gun behind you. You felt the barrel press against your skull.

“Drop it.” This time it was you that scowled, letting your gun clatter to the ground. Dammit, you didn’t think he’d get here so quickly. Or so quietly.

“Let me dress Corazon’s wounds,” you ground out. “Then I’ll sign your stupid papers.”

“Y/n, don’t worry abou-”

“I appreciate your concern, but I have this under control, okay?” You looked at him through the shattered window, smiling warmly at him. He just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t quite discern but you could also tell he was struggling to stay conscious.

“Sign the papers first.”

“Absolutely not.” You felt him press the gun harder against you and you cursed at him. “Fucking-”

You whipped around so fast that he didn’t have time to react, hitting his elbow from the outside and pushing his hand up. Not enough to break it, but just enough to make him let go. You disassembled his gun and threw it to the ground. The same thing you did to Corazon a little over a month ago. “I’m not asking.”

You weren’t stupid. You knew you were outnumbered, so you weren’t going to try and take the both of them out now. You weren’t going to start a fight - that’s not what you came here for. Saving the hostages, that’s what you were here for. You looked back, seeing Doflamingo pointing his gun at you, only it wasn’t with his dominant hand, so you knew he wouldn’t be able to hit you correctly. You could just tell with the way it sat uncomfortably in his hand.

“That’s why you should train shooting with both hands. Cause as soon as you fire that gun in your hand, the kickback is going to be too much and you’re not going to hit me.” The pure rage in Doflamingo’s face was honestly comical.

You walked through the door, heading over to the blond man that was currently bleeding out on the ground. He wasn’t sitting up anymore and he looked like he was barely awake. “Just hang in there,” you said softly, pulling out a first aid kit from under the conference table. You had one in every room.

You felt the gun still being trained on you, hearing Crocodile putting the other one back together and picking yours off the ground before pointing it at you. “I’m not going to try anything stupid, you two. So you can get your panties out of a bunch,” you said.

You fumbled around in your fanny pack, grabbing out your small suture kit. You opened up Corazon’s shirt, assessing the damage. You hissed softly through your teeth. He’d been shot in the abdomen, losing a good amount of blood, but you were sure he’d end up being just fine- you could do this.

He spoke as you started applying disinfectant to a rag. “Do you just…carry this stuff-” He was cut off as you began to sanitize his wounds but you paused for a moment. That’s exactly what he had said the second time you had caught him from falling. He let out a weak laugh and it took everything in you not to start crying. Damn it all.

“Don’t talk, Ros. You need your strength.”

“I think I’ll be just fine with you here now, doc,” he mused softly. You felt heat creeping up your neck. Really? At a time like this? You finished cleaning his wound, clenching your jaw as you were able to really see the damage. It seemed that Doflamingo was close enough when he shot him that it went through him cleanly, so you didn’t need to try and dig the bullet out of him - you were able to immediately start stitching him up.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep it together. “How is everyone else?” You looked to the boys, who seemed fine aside from looking absolutely scared out of their wits. Marco wasn’t here, so you imagined that they were watching him while he kept an eye on the front side. You didn’t know why they had to bring the boys into this at all. They absolutely had no ties to any of this. They were just adding to their ‘leverage’ at this point. Not only would they be able to control you, but also Corazon. He did use to be in the business, after all. So, he’d be able to fight his way out of this, throw the boys in and he was just like you - compliant.

“We’re fine,” Law said with a nod. “The only one who was hurt was Corazon.” You could see the genuine concern in his eyes, hear the pain in his voice. This was the man’s father essentially, of course he was worried.

“He’s going to be just fine, Law, I promise.” As you were speaking to him, you were still working.

“Where’s the paperwork?” you asked, looking at the two men who were currently pointing guns at you. They just looked at each other and you sighed. “You wanted me here to sign paperwork so one of you go fucking get it.” You sighed harshly.

“You shouldn’t sign it, y/n.” You looked at Corazon, finishing up his front stitches.

“Turn around,” you said and he obeyed, slowly turning for you as you started to work on his exit wound. “I know what I’m doing,” your voice was low. “I’m going to get the lot of you out of here safely. I promise.”

“But you worked so hard-”

“Rosinante, please,” you said softly, feeling your own voice crack. You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing your work. You already made the decision and came to terms with the fact that you were going to lose your hospital. You could go somewhere else and work. Though, none of the hospitals around here would probably take you. You had snapped at them at that meeting and now none of them want anything to do with you.

Not that you really blamed them, but dammit, now you were going to have to move. It was also the best option. With you out of the picture, everyone would be able to resume their lives as normal. Your last actions with this will be making sure that Corazon and everyone out are able to get out of here safely. You were going to make sure that they’re able to escape the eyes of the families. Just as you did with everyone else. They will be the last ones you are going to be able to help, but at least they’ll be able to get out of here.

You finished patching up the man before you, sighing. “Finished.” Corazon turned to look at you, but you were already standing. You just…couldn’t stand it - all of this was your fault.

You looked at Doflamingo, who still had a gun trained on you. “One more thing. They all get out of here safely. Away from you. They are not to be followed or tailed. If I find out that they are, the deal is off. Once they’re safe then-”

“Y/n! You can’t-” You ignored Corazon’s pleas, looking at the man before you. “Once they’re safe, then I will sign over the hospital.”

“That’s a large ask,” the man before you said, a shit eating grin spreading across his face. “You already were able to patch up Corazon here before, now you want their safe passage?”

“I think you forget that this hospital is my life’s work. I think that I’m not asking for much, all things considered. This place is a place that even cops won’t look, I think a handful of people who aren’t even involved in things like this to be let go isn’t asking much, right?”

He opened his mouth to retort when you heard Crocodile’s voice. “Deal. But you will sit here while they leave, got it?” You nodded. “Deal. Also, make sure Marco is provided safe passage as well.” Crocodile nodded. At least he seemed to be willing to work with you.

“Don’t you think you’re giving them too much, Croc?” Doflamingo grimaced and the other shook his head.

“We’re going to get their entire hospital. It’s like they said, a few people who aren’t even involved in things like this is just fine. I know he’s your brother, Doflamingo, but you did just shoot him.”

“Let’s go then,” Crocodile said, looking at Corazon and co. “We don’t have all day. We’ll untie you when we get to the exit.” Everyone slowly stood up. You crouched in front of Corazon, taking his face in your hands. “Please take care of yourself, okay?”

He sputtered for a moment, his face turning red as you held his face. “Are you sure about all of this? We’ll be-”

“Trust me, okay? You guys will be able to get out of here. You’ll be free.”

“Well, what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me - I’ll be fine.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, resting your forehead on his. "Please don't do this," he whispered, but you ignored his words as much as they stung your heart. “Take it easy and heal up, okay? Then make sure you take good care of the boys.” You pulled away from him, looking over at Bepo. “Bepo, since you’re the tallest behind Corazon, will you help him?”

“Yes, doctor!” Bepo nodded, heading over as you helped Corazon stand. You glanced at Crocodile, gesturing at the man’s restraints and he sighed before nodding. You untied Bepo’s hands and he wrapped an arm around the injured man’s waist.

You looked at Law. “Make sure he takes it easy, okay? I expect you to take care of him while he heals.” The doctor in training nodded, looking like he wanted to say something. It took him a moment, but he found his words. “Please be careful, doctor. Make sure you look after yourself too.” He paused, realizing what he said.

“I don’t want to deal with a moping Cora if anything happens to you.” He was trying to cover his sentiment, but it was clear. You stood there, stunned for a moment. That was probably the nicest thing you’ve heard him say to anyone ever. Sure, it was covered with a joke, but the sentiment was there. Your face softened and you ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry about me, just take care of your dad for me, yeah?”

“You talk like we’re never gonna see you again.” He grumbled and you tensed for a moment. They just stared at you. “Y/n, what are you-”

“Let’s get going, I don’t have all day!” Crocodile’s voice interrupted.

You stepped away from them, smiling. “Take care of each other and be careful.” Shachi and Penguin looked at you with teary eyes. “We’re gonna miss you, doc,” one said. “Make sure you be careful,” the other chimed. You nodded, shuffling them all towards the door.

“Now, move along before they change their minds.” You were able to finally get them out of the conference room, heading out. You watched as they left with Crocodile, other cronies showing up to assist in the transfer.

You saw Corazon look back at you one more time before they turned the corner out of your sight. Your heart lurched as you saw the concern and yearning in his face. You just hoped that they’d take the opportunity to get out of here. You’d be just fine. Destroyed, but fine.

“Alright, now sign the papers.” You glared over at Doflamingo. “Not yet. They’re not out of here just yet.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know what you see in him anyway. He’s weak. Though, I suppose it matches with you. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to inherit the power your father possesses. He might be my rival, but I know a man with power when I see it.”

“Not everything is about power and the sooner you realize that - the better.”

Doflamingo laughed and you flinched as it bounced off the walls. He was so loud - and for what? “Power is what took over your hospital, doctor. Power gets you whatever you want. Money, fame, you name it.”

You shook your head. “I don’t expect a shallow man like you to understand,” you said with a small sigh. He was too drunk with power, money hungry, and dense.

He grimaced, shaking his head. “Well, I’m not the one losing everything I’ve worked so hard for, now am I?” he mused, grinning. You felt your eye twitch, but you weren’t about to let him see that he was getting to you.

You just ignored him, folding your arms as you waited with a gun pointed to your head.

Crocodile eventually returned, looking at you. “They’re out. They’re safe. No one is tailing them.”

“You better be telling the fucking truth. So help me if I find out you’re lying-”

“Cool your jets. I never fuck with a deal.”

You just narrowed your eyes at him before pulling a pen out of your pocket, signing the papers. You slid them towards the man, glaring at the two of them. Doflamingo uncocked his gun, tucking it away. He grinned. “Fucking finally.”

“Can I go now? I have shit I need to do.” You folded your hands across your chest.

“You’re not staying?”

“This is no longer my hospital, why would I?”

“Suit yourself.”

Crocodile looked over the paper in his hands and nodded. “It all checks out. I guess, yeah. You can skedaddle.” You made a face at his word choice, but didn’t do much else except leave the room. They had the hospital, everyone was safe. You didn’t have to worry anymore.

Honestly, none of this felt real. You headed out the way you came, careful that no one saw you. Just because you signed over your hospital, doesn’t mean they got to know everything about it. If they found it out on their own, good for them. Maybe one day you’d figure out a way to get everything back.

You headed down the stairs, feeling like you were floating. You weren’t in your body. Everything felt fake - like a bad dream. Only, you wished you would wake up from this nightmare. You just lost everything. Your family, your livelihood, all of it. Everything was gone.

You stopped as you reached your car, seeing Marco perched on the hood. He looked over at you, standing up. The expression on his face was that of sympathy and worry. Everything hit you all at once and tears started to free fall down your face. The stress finally hit you at the same time that your body finally gave out as adrenaline left. Your knees gave out and Marco caught you in the process, holding you as you ugly cried into him. Your body shook as you sobbed, clutching onto Marco as if he would disappear at any moment as well.

#alright now to die for work for the next three to four days lmfao #finna work 50 hours in three days #anyway yeah i ugly cried - got a headache and everything from it #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #donquixote rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #corazon x you #rosinante corazon #corazon x reader #corazon #rosinante x reader #rosinante #am fics #sc

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