Dead Plate Oneshots Meant To Be

Warning: Rape, Blackmail, Shorter Vincent

Rody’s heart thudded with a mix of excitement and dread as he waited for Vincent to arrive. He sat in the dim light of his living room, hands clasped, eyes fixated on the door, his mind running through everything he wanted to say. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the chance to make Vincent understand what they had—to make him remember that he belonged with Rody.

When he heard the hesitant knock, Rody stood and took a steadying breath before opening the door. There stood Vincent, looking exhausted and wary, his expression carefully guarded as if bracing himself.

“Vince,” Rody breathed, a warm smile spreading over his face. “Thank you for coming.”

Vincent gave a reluctant nod, eyes shifting uneasily. “You said you needed to talk…?” His tone was flat, cautious. “Look, Rody, I don’t think—”

“Come in,” Rody interrupted softly, stepping aside. “Please. Just hear me out.”

Vincent hesitated before finally stepping inside, the quiet click of the door shutting making him tense. Rody could see it—the mistrust in Vincent’s eyes, the way he kept a careful distance, as if afraid to let Rody get too close. But Rody wasn’t deterred; he knew exactly how to bring him back.

They sat down, Vincent choosing the armchair opposite the couch where Rody perched on the edge, his gaze unwavering.

“Vince,” Rody began, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve missed you. More than you could possibly know. You’re…you’re everything to me. You always were.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with an emotion Rody couldn’t quite place. “Rody, we’ve been over this,” he said, his tone pained. “We broke up because…because this wasn’t healthy. You were…” He stopped, struggling for words. “You were too much. And I need space. I need my own life.”

“But you don’t understand,” Rody replied, leaning forward. “You *are* my life, Vince. I gave you everything. I did everything for you. And you just…left.”

Vincent closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Rody, please. I’m with someone else now. You need to move on. This…this isn’t right.”

The words were like a blade twisting in Rody’s chest, but he forced a smile, keeping his gaze steady. “I know you’ve moved on,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “I know about Richard.”

Vincent’s eyes snapped open, a look of alarm flickering over his face. “How…how do you know about him?”

Rody’s smile widened, his gaze unblinking. “I saw you together. Every time. You think I don’t notice the way he touches you? The way you look at him?” He let the words sink in, watching as Vincent’s face paled. “But it doesn’t matter, Vince. Because you and I…we have a connection that he could never understand.”

“Rody,” Vincent said, his voice shaking slightly. “This is…this is wrong. You can’t just follow me, spy on me. I have a life now—a life *without* you.”

“Not without me,” Rody murmured, pulling out his phone. “Because there’s something I think you need to see.” He pressed play, the sound filling the silence as the video began.

On the screen, Vincent’s face appeared, soft and vulnerable, eyes half-lidded and filled with trust as he lay beneath Rody. The intimacy, the rawness of the moment was unmistakable. Vincent’s breathing grew shallow as he watched, his face paling further, his hands clenching in his lap.

“Rody…why do you have this?” Vincent whispered, horror lacing his voice. “You…you recorded us?”

Rody leaned closer, voice soft, almost gentle. “I wanted a memory. Something to hold onto, to remind me of how perfect we were together. Don’t you see, Vince? This was real. We’re real.”

Vincent’s eyes met his, wide and pleading. “Please, Rody…delete it. Don’t…don’t share that. I’ll do anything.”

The desperation in Vincent’s voice sent a thrill through Rody, and he reached out, his hand cupping Vincent’s cheek. Vincent flinched, but he didn’t pull away, too terrified to resist. “Then come back to me, Vince,” Rody murmured, his thumb brushing gently over his cheek. “Be with me. You were meant to be mine.”

Vincent swallowed, his gaze falling to the floor. “Rody…please. You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do,” Rody whispered, his hand slipping down to rest on Vincent’s trembling shoulder. “Because I know you better than anyone. I know the way you feel, even if you’re scared to admit it. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Vince. I know you still care.”

Vincent’s silence was answer enough. His shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as he slouched into the armchair. Rody savored the moment, his fingers brushing Vincent’s hair as he bent down to whisper in his ear.

“Come to bed with me.”

Vincent’s face contorted, and he looked away, but he stood, moving to the bedroom with the obedience of someone who no longer had the will to fight. Rody followed, a dark satisfaction filling him as he watched Vincent’s reluctant steps.

In the dim light of the bedroom, Rody wrapped his arms around Vincent from behind, feeling the tension in his body, the subtle shivers of dread. But Rody’s touch was gentle, almost tender, as he whispered into his ear.

“Relax, Vince. You’re safe with me. I’ll always protect you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

Vincent’s shoulders trembled, and he closed his eyes, as if to block out the reality of what he was about to endure. Rody’s hands roamed over him, slow and reverent, every touch reminding Vincent of his control, his power. He knew Vincent was scared—knew he didn’t want this—but that only made the moment sweeter.

They lay together afterward, Rody holding Vincent tightly, murmuring promises of forever into the dark. Vincent lay still, his face turned away, a faint sheen of tears glistening on his cheeks. Rody ran his fingers through his hair, soothing him, whispering sweet words until Vincent’s breathing evened out, until he was quiet, compliant.

The following days settled into a twisted routine. Vincent stayed, his once-defiant spirit slowly eroding under Rody’s constant presence, his control. Rody was always there, watching him, making sure he never forgot who he belonged to, reminding him that he was loved, cherished, *possessed*.

As much as Rody cherished Vincent’s presence, he could see the cracks beginning to form. Vincent was quieter, his eyes dull, his smiles forced. But Rody didn’t care; as long as Vincent was by his side, as long as he could hold him and call him his own, that was all that mattered.

One night, as they lay together, Vincent whispered, barely audible, “Rody…why?”

“Why what, love?” Rody murmured, brushing a kiss over his shoulder.

“Why…why can’t you just let me go?”

Rody’s arms tightened around him, possessive and firm. “Because you’re mine, Vince. I’ll never let you go.”

Vincent fell silent, resigned to his fate, his spirit crushed beneath the weight of Rody’s obsession. And as they lay together, Rody closed his eyes, a smile on his lips, knowing that no matter what, Vincent would always be his.

And to him, that was the only kind of love he’d ever need.