#this is just a ramble you can ignore it :>

[froggiewrites]

Puppeteer

Pairing: Doffy x Reader

SFW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course not. Not your Doffy.

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

He laughs. “Darling, you are home.”

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

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

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

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

“I know everything ended terribly, but…”

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

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

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

Possessively, part of your mind whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They gave me plenty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t move.

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

Still nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

He’s right. He’s always right.

You wait anyway.

The letters never come.

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

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

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

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

But the gnawing continues all the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s what, darling?”

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

“This letter.”

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

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

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

“Was this for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

An angry voice stops you in your tracks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You crawl back into bed instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

No, no, no.

No, that can’t be right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this, darling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How many people?”

“I can’t recall exact numbers.”

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

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

“Are you why I got evicted?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“Happy? You hurt people! Hurt me!"

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

"Obstacles? Doflamingo, they were people!” 

“They’re nothing compared to you.”

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

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

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

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

"Do you want to leave this place?"

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can barely swallow the bile rising in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darling–”

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

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

“Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“A better man would believe me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, not their own.

His.

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

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

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

"But if I really wanted to?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

[00valentina-writes00]

Can you write hcs of loser Ellie with loser reader please and thank you🙏🏼

✞⛧ Dating Loser!Ellie While Being a Loser Too ✞⛧

✞⛧ You and Ellie are the type of losers who accidentally ignore each other’s texts for days, not out of malice, but because you both get lost in your own worlds—her with her guitar, you with whatever hyperfixation you’ve picked up that week. When you finally respond, it’s always a flood of memes, random thoughts, and dramatic apologies

✞⛧ The both of you overthink everything. If Ellie takes too long to respond, you start wondering if she secretly hates you. Meanwhile, Ellie is literally staring at her phone, panicking about whether her last message was too weird.

✞⛧ Your dates are always the most awkward but endearing messes. You both show up way too early, then spend ten minutes pretending you just happened to be there already.

✞⛧ Both of you are absolutely awful at flirting. If either of you try, it’s just stuttering, bad jokes, and Ellie turning bright red before changing the subject completely.

✞⛧ You’re both socially anxious, so whenever you have to order food, you’ll nudge each other like, “You do it.” “No, you do it.” “Ellie, please, I can’t talk to the cashier.”

✞⛧ Ellie definitely does that thing where she hovers near you but doesn’t say anything, hoping you’ll start the conversation so she doesn’t have to figure out how.

✞⛧ You catch each other staring constantly but both pretend like it never happened. Ellie gets caught mid-gaze and immediately looks away like she just got burned.

✞⛧ When she gets flustered, she starts rambling and overexplaining everything, then immediately groans into her hands because why did she say that?

✞⛧ You both have the worst habit of making plans and then spending the whole day hoping the other person cancels because socializing is hard, but then you see each other and suddenly it’s the best day ever.

✞⛧ Ellie always tries to impress you with her guitar skills, but if you hype her up too much, she gets all bashful and starts pretending like she’s not internally screaming from happiness.

✞⛧ You both suck at compliments. Whenever one of you says something nice, the other just stands there awkwardly before mumbling something incoherent in response.

✞⛧ Both of you are clingy but pretend not to be. If one of you pulls away first after a hug, the other spends the rest of the day sulking.

✞⛧ Whenever Ellie zones out, you know she’s just deep in thought about something dumb, like “Could a clicker learn to ride a horse?” and she will absolutely share it with you like it’s the most profound thing ever.

✞⛧ Your inside jokes make zero sense to anyone else, and half of them started from one of you mispronouncing something stupid once.

✞⛧ Neither of you can handle eye contact for too long. If you actually lock eyes for more than five seconds, you both break out into nervous giggles.

✞⛧ You both suck at confrontation, so if you ever get into a small argument, it’s just passive-aggressive meme exchanges until one of you caves and apologizes.

✞⛧ Ellie absolutely overthinks gift-giving. If she wants to give you something, she’ll spend days debating whether it’s the right thing before awkwardly shoving it into your hands and running away.

✞⛧ When Ellie gets jealous, she swears she’s not jealous, but suddenly she’s extra clingy and definitely standing closer than usual, glaring at whoever is talking to you.

✞⛧ You both have the most chaotic but wholesome cuddling dynamic. Ellie wants to be the big spoon but ends up tangling herself around you like an anxious cat instead.

✞⛧ If either of you tries to be seductive, it just turns into immediate regret and embarrassment. Ellie once tried to call you baby in a sultry voice and immediately cringed so hard she had to leave the room.

✞⛧ You both struggle with basic romantic gestures. Holding hands? Sweaty palms. Saying “I love you”? Nervous stammering. Kissing? An awkward head bump before you finally get it right.

✞⛧ Ellie makes playlists for you but never tells you outright—it’s just one day you notice she keeps humming certain songs when you’re around.

✞⛧ The first time you kissed, it was supposed to be cute and romantic, but Ellie was so nervous she missed and kissed the corner of your mouth instead. She still cringes when she remembers it.

✞⛧ If you ever wear her hoodie, Ellie has to physically restrain herself from losing her mind. She’ll act casual, but internally, she’s malfunctioning.

✞⛧ Both of you have the most intense silent conversations with just looks alone, which confuses everyone else but makes perfect sense to you.

✞⛧ Ellie lives for forehead kisses but gets so embarrassed admitting it. The first time you kissed her forehead, she literally short-circuited.

✞⛧ If you ever send her a risky text, she immediately throws her phone away and refuses to look at it for an hour.

✞⛧ You both laugh way too hard at the dumbest jokes, to the point where people think you’re drunk when you’re just stupid in love

✞⛧ Neither of you knows how to take a compliment. Ellie once tried to accept one gracefully but ended up saying “Thanks, I found it on the ground” about her own face.

✞⛧ Ellie loves sneaking up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist, but if you ever do it to her, she literally collapses from weakness.

✞⛧ When she sleeps over, you both pretend you’re gonna go to bed early, but it turns into hours of lying there talking about the most random, stupid things.

✞⛧ Ellie lives to fluster you. If she ever gets bold enough to tease you, it’s her greatest accomplishment, even if she gets shy immediately after.

✞⛧ If you get sick, Ellie becomes way too worried, acting like you’re on your deathbed even if it’s just a mild cold.

✞⛧ You both have this awkwardly intense tension whenever you sit too close, but neither of you knows what to do with it, so you just suffer in silence.

✞⛧ Ellie would rather die than let you think she’s bad at something, so if you challenge her at a game or task, she will overcommit, even if it’s something ridiculous.

✞⛧ If you ever send her a really heartfelt text, she immediately starts overanalyzing her response to make sure she sounds just as cool and sincere (she fails).

✞⛧ Ellie definitely has a notebook filled with little sketches of you, but she’ll never let you see it unless you wrestle it away from her.

✞⛧ Even though you’re both losers, somehow, together, it just works. Ellie might be awkward and dorky, but she’s yours, and despite all the stammering, blushing, and secondhand embarrassment—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[beloveds-embrace]

Hi Noona!! Would it be okay for me to request something to add on to the Taking it Too Far Dukedom au but in which that situation with the rude maid changed reader completely where she turns into some sort of like a cold, reserved duchess now, where she doesn’t take any shit from no one and ignores the rest of the boys who are on their knees begging her for even just a spoonful of attention!!

But what if there’s a twist (You don’t have to add this part, I’m just rambling about a thought 😣😣), imagine reader meets a poor little kid who doesn’t have any family but they snuck into the dukedom and was trying to steal something valuable but was caught by reader who was sitting there watching him the whole time like🧍‍♀️😐. I just picture reader being this cold and ruthless duchess now but still having a soft spot for this random homeless kid who sneaks in and steals her husbands things basically and she’s just like whatever and the rest of the guys are just basically jealous that this little random kids gets all of readers attention and affection loll

Thank you so much for blessing us with your talent that keeps us wanting moreee, I LOVE YOU NOONAAA🩷

I’m not taking requests atm, anon 💕💕 but oh my god the guys being jealous of a kid of all things…. Lol. Lmao, even.

Duchess doesn’t stop at letting the kid steal John’s (non-important) things- just helps him cover it up. But her heart is still so soft despite everything, and the kid clearly has no one… so she also has him stay, even if John disagrees with her decisios. But to be fair, she’s sure he disagrees with her mere existence, so there’s that.

Once the kid is assured that Duchess will not just throw him aside or away on a whim? He’s her shadow. Adores her, adores how gentle she is with him, adores how much she cares for him, and he is quick and clever- able to see the tension between her and her husband + the rest of the duchy, and so he declares himself her unofficial knight.

An easy job, considering how she only cares for his company these days. An enjoyable job, when he can rub in their faces that Duchess (Mama) gives her coveted affection and attention only to him and not them.

[aclockworkreader]

the demons are really gnawing away at my mind today

[c-orion-o]

“ Who are these shades we wait for and believe will come some evening in limousines from Heaven?”

Reference

Thank you for the 24 followers!

[potato-lord-but-not]

Followed you a long time ago for just how cool your art looks, finally decided to look into the podcast characters you like to draw! I just saw one ask asking if the character Oscar is POC, and I wonder are characters in those podcasts usually unclear in ethnicity, and the fandom can freely headcanon? Like I know if info is clearly very mentioned in the original work or there is official concept art then it would be easy, but I'm really scared if I headcanoned something that is completely different from implied canon info I didn't pick up/ info that showed up in an obscure interview. Do you have any advice in navigating information in podcast fandoms?

Usually with podcasts, you can go off of official art and or descriptions from the podcast. In the case of malevolent, hardly any characters, aside from the eldritch monsters that John likes to describe in detail, have a solid description of their looks. that’s why you get so many different variations of Noel and Oscar. Ofc there are context clues that can help you inform your design choices (or just context. like Oscar’s Scottish accent and the Butcher’s Irish accent. he may even have been described as being Irish but idk that’s besides the point, you can tell).

But even then you can play with it, like how I made Oscar mixed Scottish and Jamaican. And honestly! sometimes you can ignore it! like with Gordon from red valley, who I already had a design I liked before he was described as being pale and even implied to look white. but like I said ! you can have fun with it !

I also sometimes check voice actors, because in some instances you can’t tell someone’s ethnicity from their voice alone, and I’d hate to misinterpret their character because I couldn’t pick up on that. that’s more so a concern when the voice actor is POC tho. With malevolent tho it’s all done by Harlan, who is white, so I think headcanoning characters as different ethnicities is more important, and also way more fun.

Oh also! fandom wikis are a good place to double check. cus they’d definitely have something like that you may have missed- like something from an interview or the character’s full name, which can sometimes indicate their ethnicity ( like Parker Yang from malevolent, only shows up as a corpse in the show but important enough to Arthur that he’s still a fan favorite to make content about)

ghugh I’m rambling- I’d say the majority of the time you’re free to do whatever, just be open to change your design if descriptions come up later on (I’d say more importantly if they’re described to be POC, cus like with Gordon I think my design for him with more Afro centric features looks way cooler and feels more like him than anything I could come up with that would be more canon compliant). Also you can go off common fanon designs, but those are just mutually agreed upon and it’s not wrong to go against that. Like with the Magnus Archives there are no official designs and they let the people make whatever designs they please.

OKAY IG TLDR- do what you want, keep your ears open for character descriptions when listening, double check with character wikis or their voice actors, don’t be afraid to make more POC characters even of the cast is played by mostly white people because the more diverse cast the more fun and interesting your art will be.

[m1rotics]

Possessive

cult leader's son!hongjoong x fem!reader (however body isn't mentioned

this is literally just hongjoong being a weird little freak but this marks the end of her ability to be friends with anyone besides him. hongjoong is a HUGE red flag.

hongjoong is staring again, you can see him over yunho's shoulder, off in the distance, next to someone's house. you can see his wide eyes trained on you. you force your gaze back to yunho with his bright smile and kind eyes. he's cute. charming. the kind of boy that oozes happiness. you're pretty sure he bleeds sunshine.

yunho's a nice boy. he's fourteen just like you. he's so sweet, it makes your teeth ache. he's got an easy laugh, and he helps your neighbors out from time to time— hell, he's even helped your mom a few times. he's everything hongjoong is not, and that— that bores you. thinking too much about it feels like pressing on a nasty bruise, so naturally, you ignore it.

despite the realization that this is beyond rude, your eyes wander back to hongjoong. he tilts his head, and grins but it doesn't reach his eyes. it's not mirthful. it's lackluster, dull like a rusty blade. it's barely visible, and you barely make out the idents of it but somehow you see it. then, his mouth starts moving, "come here."

your eyes drift back to yunho, tuning back into what he's saying. something about his brother, whose name you didn't catch, and how the heat has been killing him lately . mundane stuff. immediately, your mind jumps to other things. you don't know what hongjoong wants from you because he hasn't talked to you since that time by the river, and you're not close, like, at all. (you choose to disregard how bummed out you were when he started keeping his distance again.) you're barely even acquaintances.

you look past him again, but hongjoong isn't there anymore. you don't think he's gone far though, he wouldn't have. he wants you to come to him.

and that's what you do.

looking at yunho, you cut off his ramblings with a small, "it's been so nice talking to you but I have to go."

yunho pauses, eyebrows knitting together. he scans your face like you're a puzzle, trying to understand. after finding nothing, he says, "um, okay."

you don't give him any time to ask questions, rushing off in the direction you saw hongjoong. it doesn't matter that he's gone, you'll find him somewhere in the area. once you make it, a hand tugs you behind the building. you stumble a bit, narrowly catching yourself on the wall. you turn around to face him, hongjoong doesn't say anything, simply looks.

"wha-"

"who was that?" he snaps, cutting you off.

"who? yunho?"

"you know his name" he says, terse "is he your friend?"

"kinda," you mutter, and hongjoong smiles again. it's sharp this time, threatening. he steps closer and you back up, "really? you two seemed close."

stunned, your mouth opens and closes. there's so many questions running through your head, that all your words die on your tongue. hongjoong inches closer, you back away as much as you can until your back hits the wall.

"tell me, is he your boyfriend?"

you vehemently shake your head. hongjoong laughs; short puffs of air through his nose.

"then you must be fucking him? is that why he looks at you like that? because he's been sticking his dick in you."

the words impale you, leave you stuck there, choking on air. they poison your blood, make your heart pick up. beating faster.

"why," you swallow, throat dry, "do you care?"

hongjoong's eye twitches and he sneers, borderline snarling; mouth curled like a wild dog. he looks feral. he looks mean. dead eyes staring back at you. they bounce around from your eyes, to your nose, to your mouth and back up. his hands settle on your arms, slightly below your shoulders, and squeezes. his grip aches. you can feel the bruises blooming beneath his fingertips.

"I care," he spits, his tone scathing, "because you're mine."

you blink dumbly. hummingbird heart pounding in your chest, beating against the cage of your ribs. you would've laughed at the childish decree if the situation was different, if anyone else uttered such nonsense, but it's hongjoong saying it that makes it difficult.

"do you understand?"

slowly, you nod.

hongjoong's grip eases up a bit, "good, but I want to hear you say it."

"I'm yours," you mumble. you can't tell if you're embarrassed or shy or nervous and this feels like selling yourself away. what you do know is that your stomach is flipping and eating itself from whatever it is that you're feeling and looking at hongjoong's surprisingly pleased expression, you think you might've gotten in over your head.

in a flash, hongjoong's back to normal like nothing ever happened. his face blank, eyes vacant, hands dropping to his side, "it'll be in your best interest not to forget it."

and with that said, he leaves.

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Chapter 2 // Next (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, nonsexual and sexual nudity, implied prior noncon, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

Rowan stared down, transfixed on the boy kneeling at his feet. The starkness of it all washed through his blood like ice. His eyes swept over the pale, naked skin, a canvas covered in scars that spanned hues from pale white to deep red. Fresh bruises overlaid the scars, a similar patchwork of purples and blues that belied the shape of handprints and bludgeoning tools. As he drank in the carnage, it dawned on Rowan that the boy was even scrawnier than he’d suspected when peering through the bars of the cage on the sales floor. Now, in the bright lights of his condo, he could see frail that ribs showed through the taut skin of the boy's back.  

Then, Rowan’s eyes locked on the thick, standard-issue leather collar, the only item resembling clothes this boy had been afforded for transit. It was tight around his neck, a small padlock affixed in the back. Rowan knew that the key had been secured somewhere in the box, likely in a packet along with the rest of the paperwork. The paperwork, of course, that was affixed to the lid of the empty box just a few feet away.

“Hey there,” Rowan said, using the same voice he would if he were speaking to an injured child. What else could he do? He was in a position of undeniable power and influence, and the least he could do was try to reduce the threat of his very presence. “My name is Rowan Bailey, but uh, you can just call me Rowan. Welcome home. Well, it doesn’t have to be your home forever, but uh, for now, yeah? Oh, man, I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’m already talking too much, I know, I’m sorry. I just want you to know that you’re safe now. That’s the most important part. You’re safe now, and you’re going to live here for a little while, and I’m going to help you. You’re safe, I promise”

The boy didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t lift his head. Rowan bit down on his lower lip, still tender from where he’d worried it raw overnight. Part of him wondered if even a single word of what he’d just said had gotten through, stirred any understanding, instilled any comfort. How could it, when Rowan didn’t even believe in himself?   

---

The pet strained to make out what Master was saying. There was a warm buzz of words above its head, but it couldn’t discern a single one. Master had certainly said a lot, and the pet could only hope that there hadn’t been any important instructions. Its first impression with its new master was important, it knew that. Its old master had discarded it for this same insolence, this same tendency to ignore his words and to exist only between the ringing of its own ears.

So the pet strained further, titled its chin up just a little bit, hoping that it could steal a glance upwards and to Master’s lips. Then, only then, it might be able to discern the commands from the other rambling words. And if it failed to do so now, it would certainly feel the sting of its disobedience in short order.

---

The boy didn’t move, much to Rowan’s disappointment. He felt almost certain that he’d said something wrong, or otherwise not said something that he should have to get his attention. It’s not like he could ask the boy’s name – he knew that the so-called pets were expected to respond to their ID numbers, but there were no proper names given – and it’s not like they could speak as equals until some serious deprogramming had taken place. As far as the boy was concerned, Rowan owned him body, mind, and soul. There was no conversation to be had.

Rowan took another breath to muse over his current situation. He wrung his hands together to hide the fact that his fingers were shaking, body buzzing with adrenaline. All he’d done so far was talk, rambling and tripping over his words, a directionless prattling of platitudes. Since he hadn’t issued an explicit command, perhaps, it was possible the boy wasn’t going to move or respond until Rowan gave him something more to work with.

For all his time and effort invested into the PLF and its mission to liberate people from oppression, Rowan had never spent much time with victims in active rehabilitation, and certainly none in the early stages of rescue like this. He was trained to blend into the crowds of buyers, of skeptics, of men poisoned by lechery, lust, and power. His mission was to capture the horrors, the abuses, to steel his stomach against the cogs of the system and the bodies it crushed as they turned. And with the coolness of an undercover operative, he’d sit at this desk into the early hours of the morning, stitching together the footage and audio that he’d spent his weekends capturing. It was the niche in which he’d thrived, and it was one that he’d never had an interest in moving beyond.

Facing the victims that had been pulled out of hell was a different skillset altogether. Rowan believed it wasn’t just a different skillset, but an entirely different personality type, that was required to do such important work. To try and heal the victims, to see them clawing their way to personhood from brokenness, had always put a deep discomfort in his bones.

But now, his own discomfort would have to be secondary. He’d made the decision to bring this boy into his home, and now it was his solemn duty and obligation to bring the boy from where he knelt now and into a future of freedom. Rowan knew that it would take the heart of a man much stronger and braver than himself in the moment, but for now, he was all the boy had.  

“Alright,” he said out loud, hoping his voice sounded steady despite his nerves. “I’m going to head over to the box you got here in, yeah? I’m going to grab the papers there and find the key to undo your collar. Once I get that off, I’ll show you your room and some of the clothes I got for you. I think- well, I know that the papers lied about your weight, so I’m sorry if the clothes are a bit big. You can get dressed and then I’ll make us lunch. I’m sure you’re hungry – have they fed you? Oh, that’s a stupid question, of course they haven’t, they never give food or water before transport. Right. That’ll be our second order of business, then. Collar off, bedroom and clothes, then food and water. That sounds like a plan, yeah?”

Rowan thought he could see the boy’s head perk up just slightly, almost imperceptibly, eyes peeking up between thick black eyelashes and unkempt hair. But as soon as Rowan peered down at the boy’s face, that same gaze darted back down.

“Oh, it’s okay, you can look at me,” Rowan continued to ramble as he fished the key to the collar’s padlock out of the black bag that included another standard-issue collar, an ID tag with Rowan’s contact information and the boy’s WRU number, and a referral card to WRU-sponsored electric collars. Once the collar was off the boy’s neck, this whole bag would be disposed of, Rowan was sure of that. He’d never have to wear such a cruel device again, not so long as Rowan was breathing.

Despite his attempt at reassurance, the boy kept his eyes glued to the floor. If they were going to make any progress, Rowan knew he couldn’t let it bother him, and he certainly couldn’t take that behavior personally. They had to take this at the boy’s pace, not his own. However slow that would be, Rowan had to be okay with it.

“I’m going to touch your neck now,” he said as he leaned down towards the collar. “You can let me know if I need to stop. I’m just going to unlock this collar, and then I’m going take it off.” Just as the rehabilitation materials had encouraged, Rowan walked through every step of what he was going to do, using plain words and reassurances.

He also knew that he’d receive no protest. Resistance and the concept of refusal were trained out of victims of the system, so he just had to hope that he was doing right by the boy in removing the collar right from the start. Part of him wondered if this action was for his own comfort rather than his new guest’s comfort, but he couldn’t stomach such a blatant sign of the system binding this victim. There was no way he could hope to begin rehabilitation with a mark of ownership sitting heavy on the victim’s neck.

The padlock came undone with just a slight twist of the key, and the collar came unbuckled just as easily. Rowan eased the collar off and stuffed it in the bag, tossed the key in after it, and cinched it shut. It would go in the bin just as soon as the boy was settled in.

“There, how’s that feel? It must feel nice to let that skin breathe a bit. I’ll take care of that – I promise you’ll never have to see that collar again.”

---

The pet felt more naked without its collar than it actually felt from its true nakedness. The collar from its old master had been exchanged for a standard-issue collar once it had been processed through the facility, but it seemed that Master had no intention of fitting it for a new one at the moment. That was okay with the pet, of course it was, because its job was to abide by its new master’s preferences. If that meant that it would go without a collar, so be it. Perhaps Master had a different mark of ownership that he preferred.

Master was talking still, going on and on, a soft hum of sound that wrapped through the hall. He’d stepped to the side, so the pet couldn’t try to read his lips even if it dared to look up. Given that there was no shouting, or no blows against its body, it figured that there hadn’t been a command yet. It strained its senses for the sharp bark of a command, a change in tone that would indicate the pet’s attention was needed, but none came.

Instead, Master began to walk down the hall, spilling words into empty air. After a moment Master’s footsteps stopped, and turned back towards the pet.

Oh, the pet realized with a jolt of fear up its spine, Master wanted it to follow.

So, follow it did. It did so on its hands and knees, as was expected unless given the command to stand and walk, and it followed Master down the hallways of its new quarters. Something inside its chest tightened, a sensation of both fear and excitement. What awaited it down this hall? What would its first few hours here with Master bring? Its skin puckered with the lingering chill of transport, and its body ached with the final bruises and scars of the latest refurbishment cycle, but it could bear whatever lessons Master was going to imbue. After all, it wanted nothing more than to serve Master with all of its being. It wanted to be good.

---

“You, ah, can walk if you’d prefer. Upright, that is, on your feet. Or, uhm, if that’s more comfortable for you right now, that’s fine too.” Rowan felt like he was tripping over his words as he looked back at the boy crawling behind him. It was enough to make him feel like he was going to be sick.

This isn’t about you, he reminded himself again. This isn’t about you and your comfort level. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

The second bedroom was the first door past the kitchen, a door which Rowan had left ajar. He’d purchased a two-bedroom condo with the intention to use the second bedroom as his office, which it had been for the last three years. That was, of course, until the early hours of the morning as he’d prepared for the boy’s arrival.

In many ways it was still more of an office than a bedroom. A few hours had only given Rowan so much time to redo the space in preparation for his guest’s arrival. There were some things – including way too many boxes of old AV equipment piled in the far corner – that wouldn’t have a place in the condo otherwise. But Rowan had still managed to take out the desk and his main workstation so the futon would fit comfortably. He’d also filled the filing cabinet drawers with the clothes he’d purchased for the boy, a temporary fix that would have to be sufficient until he got a proper dresser set up. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was certainly more than the boy would have been afforded in the training facility.  

“Here we are,” Rowan said as he swung the door fully open and turned on the light, “this is your room. I know it’s really messy right now, and that there’s a lot of junk in here, but I’ll have that moved out in no time. But, yeah, the futon is yours, your bed I mean. All of those blankets are yours too, but you don’t have to use them all, just however many you want. I didn’t have more than one extra pillow, but I have another one on order. I’ll get around to ordering you a proper bed this week, you know, a mattress and all, plus some new sheets. Those sheets there are clean, I promise, but I didn’t have time to patch the holes or deal with the fraying. I mean, okay, I didn’t have time to do even half of what I wanted before you got here. But this was kind of a last minute thing. I know that doesn’t make it right. But, I mean, those clothes are yours, feel free to put them on. If you don’t like those, there are some more in the filing cabinet over there, some different options for pants and shirts and stuff, maybe you’ll want to layer up. I bet it’s a little cold in here for you, yeah? I can turn up the heat. Or if you’re fine, I won’t. It’s your call, yeah.”

Rowan wished he had the ability to shut up. He was usually more composed, more succinct in his words, concise and direct. Silence and attentiveness was his trade. Now, with the world shifting beneath his feet - the feet at which a young man knelt - he felt like he was coming undone. Words came freely from an otherwise tightly-sealed mouth. But the boy crawled into the room with fluid determination, clearly indicative he’d retained something from Rowan’s rambling.

Instead of going to the bed, and instead of proceeding towards the filing cabinet with the clothes, the boy crawled to the center of the floorspace that Rowan had cleared and resumed his kneeling position there. Motionless.

---

The pet tried to glimpse what it could of the room as it moved forward, head bowed, eyes supposed to be on the floor. There was something resembling a bed to its left, and piles of boxes to its right. There was some furniture further into the room it couldn’t quite get a good look at, not from this angle. Still, it could sense the room was small, furnished as though it were an afterthought.

Master was much chattier than its old master, a continuous hum of noise that should be words, but words that the pet couldn’t quite hear. It was still all too distant through the ringing in its ears. Fear replaced frustration, it always did now, ever since the last of its hearing had started to fade. Its attempt to obey any commands, even at the training facility, were usually its best guesses. Only when its old master or its trainers would raise their voices, bringing their yells to a fever pitch, could it reliably decipher what they wanted.

Of course, it couldn’t raise the issue with them. For as much as hearing had been taken from it, speaking had been taken from it as well. A pet was seen, and not heard. Its old master had commanded complete and utter silence, and since the pet had failed to obey that simple principle, it had paid in its hearing.

Silence. And so now, as it knelt and prostrated before Master, it ensured its breath was level. No errant wheezing, no sobs choked up in the back of its throat, no whining or whimpering. Silence, beautiful silence, and listening as best it could for whatever command might follow.

---

“You go ahead and get dressed, yeah? I’m going to head to the kitchen get us both something to eat. I’m not really sure I have the stomach for it – hell, I’m not sure you do either – but it’ll be easier to tackle the day with some food in our systems. I’ll make sure to get you some water too, you’re probably parched. I’ll shut the door so you have some privacy, and I should be back in just a little.”

Rowan still wasn’t sure whether any of his words were getting through, but he knew he had to try. A few steps back and he shut the door, giving the boy enough time to cover himself in private. In the meantime, Rowan turned his attention to making something resembling a meal. He had picked up a smattering of ingredients from the supermarket last night, as much as he could grab in the fifteen minutes before it had closed. That haphazard grocery haul had included a few varieties of jams and breads. Rowan had no idea if the boy had any personal preferences for his sandwiches, and he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to learn any time soon.

“Can’t go wrong with a PB&J, right?” He muttered to himself as he opened the fridge to grab the bright purple grape jelly. “That’s a solid meal, shouldn’t upset the stomach, palatable by most people’s standards. Yeah, some peanut butter and grape jelly for me and him, that’s the plan.”

The sandwiches came together quickly, although Rowan paused to put an extra spoonful of peanut butter on the boy’s sandwich, and then another. It looked like he was at least thirty pounds lighter than had been marked in his WRU papers, and likely at least twenty pounds lighter than he should be for his size. Although Rowan wouldn’t be able to tell for certain until he convinced the boy to stand, it seemed that there would be a lot of dense and calorie-rich meals in the boy’s future. But as with everything else, healing from starvation would require time and the intervention of professionals much better equipped than Rowan. A sandwich would have to be a good enough start.

Rowan fished his phone out of his back pocket and glanced at it. The screen was blank – no missed calls, no missed texts. It seemed that the rehabilitator hadn’t called him yet. After double-checking to make sure that his ringer was on so he wouldn’t miss the call when it came, he grabbed the plate with the boy’s sandwich, as well as a fresh glass of water, and took it back to the bedroom.

A knock on the bedroom door elicited no reaction, not even a creak of the floorboards. Rowan hadn’t exactly expected an answer, but he still paused an extra moment before pushing the door open.

To his disappointment, but certainly not his surprise, the boy was kneeling in the exact same position he’d been left in almost ten minutes prior. The blankets hadn’t moved, the drawers hadn’t been opened, and the boy was still naked. He clearly hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Alright, you don’t have to get dressed, I guess,” Rowan tried. Again, he would certainly feel better if the boy got dressed, but he wasn’t going to push his luck. Not yet. Clothes would come in due time, and as long as he was meeting the boy’s needs, discomfort was survivable.

Instead of pressing the matter further he knelt and placed the plate and glass of water within his new guest’s reach. Even this didn’t elicit any movement. Maybe, just maybe, Rowan thought he saw the boy draw in a slightly deeper breath, skin shifting over his stark and visible ribs. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light.

Before Rowan could speak again, his phone rang.

Ah, shit. A quick glance at the screen confirmed that it was the call he’d been waiting for.

“I’m real sorry, I have to take this call,” Rowan said while scrambling to his feet. “I’ll be back soon – you can go ahead and eat and drink, yeah? That’s all yours.”

A few seconds later and he was out the door, phone up against his ear.

“Hello, this is Rowan Bailey.”

“Mr. Bailey, this is Angela Herrera, the PLF Rehabilitation Specialist assigned to your case. Mr. Greyson Valentine reached out to me personally to make sure you had immediate support for this unexpected intake.”

Again, just as with Grey’s call, Rowan felt an immediate sense of relief. He wasn’t in this alone. Not now, not ever. There were people that were going to fight for this victim with the same zeal and enthusiasm as they had for so many others. It didn’t matter that Rowan fucked up by taking this on so brazenly, not in the grand scheme of things. Help was on the way.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice. And, please, Rowan is just fine. Did Grey – I mean Greyson – tell you the details of our situation here?”

“Rowan, got it. As for the details, well, I got the Clifnotes version via email. It seems that you brought a ward home from a liquidation event with no prior notice or planning. You’re currently lacking any advanced rehabilitation training, and no rehabilitation training with high support cases like this one. You’ve held a primarily investigative job with little to no interaction with victims in rehabilitation at all. And, if I can make a guess from your voice, I’d presume your new guest has already arrived?”

“Yeah,” Rowan said with a wry chuckle, “you’ve got the gist of it. And now I’ve got a naked man in my spare bedroom, and I’m trying to get him to eat a sandwich or get dressed without either of us crying. I’m in over my head here, if I’m being honest. I just wanted to do a good thing, but now all I can think about is how much I’ve fucked up.”  

“You did a good thing. I promise, no matter how ill-equipped you might feel right now, you still did a very, very good thing. Rescues aren’t always as clean and well-prepared as they seem in the rehabilitation materials and training modules. For every perfect rescue, the ones where the ward is painstakingly selected based on their best chances at successful rehabilitation and reintegration, there are scrappy, impulsive, and unexpected rescues from well-meaning individuals like yourself. And let me tell you upfront, most of those rescues get happy endings too. That’s where I come in. My job is to support you and make sure that this goes as smoothly as possible, and we can work together to get our new friend healthy and confident in their personhood.”

Her voice was level and soothing, as though she’d practiced these words dozens of times. Maybe she had. It was her job, after all, wasn’t it?

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she said, and Rowan heard the faint shuffle of papers. “And I’m already getting materials prepared so I can come over and do an assessment and get you guys started on the path to recovery. What does your availability look like for a visit today or tomorrow?”

“I’m completely free until next Monday, which is when I have to go back to work. I took a few days of PTO to handle this whole… situation.”

“I can work with that. It looks like you’re not too far from me, so how about I head over in a few hours? I want to make sure I have all of my materials here in order for you first, but after that, I’m ready to get this case opened and some progress started for both of you.”

“Please,” he said, and he hoped after the words left his mouth that he hadn’t sounded as desperate as he felt. “Today is great. Any time, as soon as you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

“Sounds like a plan, then. I’ll finish getting my things together and then I’ll be on my way. Focus your energy on surviving the next few hours, get him as settled as you can, and then we can take it from there together. I’ll see you soon.”

Can’t be soon enough, Rowan thought, casting his gaze back to the closed bedroom door.

---

The pet stared at the food lingering just within its reach. Its stomach growled with a painful gnawing sensation, a hunger that it felt in its very soul. It couldn’t remember the last time it had eaten a full meal, even a proper serving of the standard issue nutrient shakes at the facility. The last time it had real food, proper food like this, had been with its old master. And even then, it had been many, many months. Maybe it had been years. Only good pets got proper meals, and its old master had been certain about one thing: the pet was not a good pet.

Even after Master had left the room, the pet knew better than to touch either the water or the food. It hadn’t been given permission to eat, not yet. No matter how thirsty, and no matter how hungry, it knew that if it were to survive under Master’s rule, it would have to be obedient. That meant that until it was explicitly allowed to touch this food, until it was given the order to eat and to drink, it would continue to wait patiently.

Hunger was a familiar companion by now. Food was denied as part of its training, often one of its first punishments, and its continued disobedience now showed in how frail the pet had become. It had watched as its ribs began to appear, first barely perceptible across its abdomen, and then so sharp that they caught shadows in the low light. Then came the dizziness, the shakes, the difficulty with its memory. The skin over its collarbones had been pulled tight, and it felt like coldness sat in the hollows between its shoulders and its neck. Its fingers had always been thin, but now they were skeletal, the tendons of its hands dancing like the strings of a marionette whenever it moved.

Those same hands rested patiently on its thighs now. The aesthetics of its body had never bothered the pet, and it knew that its hair and body were to be kept according to its masters preferences. Maybe Master would expect it to keep this particularly lithe form, which the pet wouldn’t mind. It only hoped, a hope that was brief and fleeting, that it would be permitted to eat enough that the incessant shaking and dizziness would finally cease.

The sight of feet reappearing pulled the pet from its wandering thoughts and ever-present hunger.

---

Much to Rowan’s disappointment, both the sandwich and the water remained untouched. Again, just as the first time he left the room, it appeared that the boy hadn’t moved at all.

This second instance of inaction gave Rowan immediate pause. This behavior was exactly what the paperwork had said about the boy, hadn’t it? He’d been sent to the liquidation floor because of apparent selective disobedience to commands.  

But Rowan hadn’t given a command, not in the sense that most people did when they spoke to their pets. His suggestions had been conversational at best, his best attempt to emphasize the importance of the boy’s autonomy from the very beginning. The rehabilitation handbook had said this method worked for some individuals who were eager to grasp that first bit of freedom.

Others, however, would sometimes require the familiarity of commands and hierarchical structures before they were comfortable enough to come out of their shells. It seemed that maybe this boy would be a part of the latter group.

Rowan had hoped that he would go his entire life without feeding into the depravity of the system, that he would never issue a command to another human being, that he would treat all persons as equals to himself. But his own choices, his own rash decisions that brought the boy here in the first place, meant that this philosophy would have to change.

It wouldn’t hurt to try gentle persuasion one more time, though, would it? For his own sake, Rowan knew would have to try.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft despite the lump in his throat, “I need to make sure you’re eating and drinking, okay? I don’t know when they fed you last, or if you’re even feeling okay right now, but can you at least drink that glass of water and eat that food? Please?”

Nothing. Not so much as a blink or a twitch that showed any recognition of what Rowan was asking. The boy hadn’t even acknowledged Rowan’s presence besides following him to the bedroom.

Fuck, he groaned internally. There was no use in putting it off any longer. He’d gotten himself into this mess, and now he was going to have to get them both out. It was time to grow a spine.

“You need to eat and drink,” Rowan said, raising his voice ever so slightly. He winced in spite of himself. “You’re going to drink that full glass of water, and eat all of the food on that plate. Now.”

To his horror and surprise, it worked.

---

Master’s voice split from its warm murmuring to a tone that was sharp and commanding. It was the cue the pet had been waiting for.

Cautiously, ever-so-carefully, the pet raised its eyes to meet Master’s lips. It peered through the web of its greasy-thick hair and tried to make out exactly what Master wanted it to do. Lips moved, sharp words cut, and the pet thought it understood.

Drink the water, eat the food.

There would be no second chance to get this right. The pet was incredulous that those were truly the words that Master had uttered. But that increase in vocal pitch, paired with the movement of Master’s lips, was all that the pet could abide.

Even if it was wrong, and even if it had mistaken the precise command Master had issued, it was hopeful that it would at least get a mouthful of water to soothe its parched tongue before the punishment came.

The pet slowly moved its hand from its lap and towards the glass of water. It braced itself for a kick to the ribs, or perhaps another blow to the head, but none came. Hand trembling, both from the fear it couldn’t mask and exhaustion of the last few days, it grabbed the glass. Just as methodically, still waiting for a correction, it raised the glass to its lips. A final pause. No correction came.

It drank. It drank with a ravenous thirst, one that one single glass wouldn’t quench. It could have easily drunk another glass, no, three or four more glasses. The taste of the cool water over its tongue was heavenly bliss. The relief and release of the drink was enough, just for a moment, to dissolve the fear of being in a new place with its new master.

Fear returned as it reached out to grab the sandwich. Eating this would be more challenging, requiring just enough grace so that not even a single crumb spilled from the corners of its lips, but still demonstrating the swiftness and efficiency that was expected of a good pet. Wasting food was a sign of disrespect, and the pet was absolutely grateful for a meal like this. It had no intention to disrespect Master and his generous offerings.

As carefully and daintily as it could, the pet tore its teeth through the bread and the thick spread of peanut butter and grape. It was so hungry that it didn’t pause to appreciate the flavors or textures. Instead, it focused on devouring as neatly as was possible in a near animal state. Without its training it might not have accomplished such a feat, but somehow, it managed to eat the entire offering without a crumb dropping to the floor.

A rumble came from Master’s lips, that same warmness that he’d been using since the pet first emerged from its box. Although some part of it expected some punishment for eating, it didn’t come. Instead, all the pet could feel was some queasiness: it had been so long since it had eaten a meal of that size, and its stomach was soured by the heaviness and a lingering hunger from the recesses of its mind. The signals in its body were conflicting between hunger and nourishment, and the pet could only hope it would keep the meal down long enough for it to make a difference in its foggy mind.

Maybe the meal had been the punishment in and of itself? Maybe, just maybe, keeping itself together after the meal was its first test?

Then another command, a sharp voice, and Master’s feet turned towards the door. The pet hadn’t had the opportunity to look up at his lips, but the options were to either stay or to follow. It paused to think, a moment in time to decide its fate. Master had left the room before, but hadn’t issued a command, and the pet had done right by staying. Now, Master was leaving, but had clearly spoken a command. It paused a moment, but could intuit that the command had been to follow, rather than to stay.

And so it followed.

---

“Follow me to the bathroom, let’s get you cleaned up,” Rowan barked out. He still tried to speak gently, but it seemed that a sharper, more commanding tone was the only thing that was going to work for now. It felt too much like shouting for comfort, and the act of issuing commands itself was disconcerting, but the boy didn’t seem bothered. Still on his hands and knees, the scarred houseguest followed Rowan’s every step.

It was a short walk across the hall to the bathroom. The smell of bleach still lingered in the air, but at least Rowan had been able to mask the stench of mildew and weeks of neglect. For now, though the white tiles didn’t gleam, it was serviceable for a shower.

Rowan patted the new towels he had folded and placed on the toilet tank. Although he wasn’t issuing a command, because the boy hadn’t looked up, Rowan raised his voice slightly nonetheless. It was the only thing that seemed to get through to him.

“These towels and washcloths are yours, so use as many as you need. Soap, shampoo, conditioner, it’s all in the shower. Go ahead and clean yourself up, yeah? Take as long as you want, use hot water, use whatever is in there. It’s not much, but I’m going to pick up some more things that are just for you later this week.”

He stepped towards the door, lingering for just a moment to see if they boy would respond. Instead of verbal recognition, the boy’s frail frame clambered over the lip of the bathtub and into the newly-cleaned porcelain. Hands started to reach for the knobs to turn on the water, head still bowed, so Rowan took his leave.

---

The pet tried not to wrinkle its nose at the heavy stench of powdered bleach lingering in the air. It could already feel the burns that would form on the skin of its palms as it scrubbed the bathroom clean with the caustic chemicals. It knew it shouldn’t have preferences, but it did anyway. They couldn’t beat the preference out of it, no matter how hard they tried. There were so many cleaning products that were easier to work with, that didn’t burn its lungs and throat, that didn’t make its hands raw and red with pain the way that powdered bleach did.

But the bathroom wasn’t the thing that Master had asked it to clean, at least not yet. There was no use dreading an uncertain future. Instead, Master had asked it to clean itself, make itself presentable.

There was no surprise there. The fear and discomfort had served it well, and would continue to serve it well as it learned what Master expected of it. It had shown restraint in waiting to eat until a command was issued, and it had showed obedience in following Master’s commands to follow and to shower. But now, the pet was being asked to read between the lines. A good pet was not only responsive, but could anticipate its master’s needs with effortless grace.

There were few things that a new master would want to explore with their pet on their first day, and the pet was well-acquainted with what likely came next. It certainly wasn’t as clean as its old master would have required before such activities, having only received a quick hose-down before it was loaded into its box. There was still some dried blood stuck to its skin, and its scalp was thick with grease and dandruff that it hadn’t been able to wash out since it began its refurbishment those many weeks ago. Its nose was blind to it by now, but the pet was certain that it smelled faintly like the fear and sweat that clung to the training facility walls.

If it had any hope of pleasing its new master, it would have to spend the time and effort to clean itself up a bit more. First impressions, particularly first impressions of its primary skillsets, were of the utmost importance.

After a few moments of scrutinizing the silver knobs on the wall, it eased the showerhead on. It flinched as the cold water hit its skin, it always did, but then it relaxed into the gentle stream. This was better than any of the rough hose-downs it had received while at the facility, and better than the showers provided for its old master’s pets. The privacy felt like an unearned privilege, and the pet was determined to enjoy the luxury while it still could.

Nerves made it hard to hold steady as it climbed to its feet. Without Master present, it didn’t have to kneel, and standing would make it easier to clean itself. Its head swam with a familiar blackness and ringing in its ears, and it leaned on the tiled wall until the dizziness passed. The food that it had just eaten would help, even if it would take some time to feel the effects of the nourishment. And maybe, just maybe, it would steal some water from the tap now, drink a few mouthfuls as the cold water ran down its face…

No, it reminded itself with a sharp correction, balling its fists up as though Handler Green had shoved the cattle prod into its ribs. This was its first day with Master, its first chance to prove its worth, and it was already thinking of disobedience. Master had already given it something to drink, and it should be grateful. There was no need to steal even a single mouthful now, not even from the freely flowing showerhead, not even in the privacy of solitude.

It banished the thought from its mind and got busy with scrubbing itself clean. First came its hair, so much longer now than when it had entered the refurbishment program, the curls heavy with water and shampoo. The shampoo was light, faintly floral, and the pet relished in the sensation of soap pulling the grime and blood away from its scalp. When it glanced down at the floor of the bathtub it saw that the water was rust-colored as it flowed down the drain.

Once its hair was clean, shampooed twice and rinsed thrice, it took to scrubbing its body down with determined and practiced vigor. Every inch of skin was worked over, even the skin that was heavily bruised and covered in scabs. It allowed itself the grace to wince as it pressed down on the bruises and still-healing wounds, but it still scrubbed away at them with the same determination.

Mostly, it tried not to think about how much its ribs had begun to stick through its skin, and how easily they would break under the slightest application of force. It was fragile now, filthy and covered in the marks of its disobedience. Its insolence was captured by the permanent paint of scars from head to toe.

It scrubbed, and rinsed, and then scrubbed again, until the water turned from copper, to pale pink, to clear. Its arms had begun to pucker with goosebumps under the steady flow of cold water. But finally, with a final rotation and a check that the water was indeed flowing clearly now, it shut the water off.

The towels waiting for it were warmer and fluffier than anything it could remember being given at either the training facility or by its old master. As it wrapped itself in the terrycloth it sighed a small sigh of relief, an exhalation it was sure made no sound. Even if it couldn’t hear such quiet breaths itself, it had learned when others could from its old master’s many corrections. A sigh, by itself and behind a closed door, would likely go unnoticed.

After it had dried itself it carefully folded the towel and placed it on the floor. It would have to figure out where Master kept his dirty clothes and towels sooner or later, especially since it would be responsible for the laundry. There would be time for that soon. But now, since it was clean, it was time to get to work.

The pet settled back down onto its knees, carefully selecting the tiles of the floor to kneel on rather than the rug in front of the sink. It wasn’t going to seek out small pleasures and privileges that it had not yet earned, not on this first day. Everything it did would show that it was good, that it was obedient.

The tiles were better than cold cement it was accustomed to, anyway.

A few moments later the door pushed open. Master was back, here to fetch it, take it back to the room it had just come from. That soft murmuring of Master’s voice came again, the conversational tone like water lapping on a white-sand shore, not the hot knife of a command. The pet still tried its best to listen attentively through the ringing of its ears.

Then, the command came, cutting sharp through the susurrus. Follow. And so the pet did.

As it expected, it was led back to the same room it had just come from. Its heart fluttered in its chest. It remembered where the low-lying bed had been pushed against the wall, and how far it was off the ground. Climbing up on the bed from the ground would pose little difficulty, a single fluid motion enough to situate it comfortably atop the flat surface.

Master walked towards the bed with broad strides, and with a rush of adrenaline, the pet climbed up onto the bed beside the towering pile of blankets. Fabric and plush bedding were soft beneath its knees, and it gave a small sigh of relief that the bed was so comfortable.

There was no time to relish in the comfort, however. The instinct of its training and prior service took over. There were multiple options for it to begin, to entice Master’s senses, but one came to the forefront of its mind. That one, it decided, would show off both grace and the care it put into its servitude.

It placed its hands evenly apart, symmetrical and in line with its knees, forming carefully orchestrated lines throughout its body. Once it found its balance it arched its back, pushed its hips firmly into the air, and lowered its chest towards the bed. Weight shifted forward, onto its forearms now, and it felt confident it would be steady despite its latest wave dizziness and nausea. Although it couldn’t quite see itself from this angle – there was no mirror here like there was in the training facility – it was confident that its posture was perfect.

There were many things the pet had failed at during its training, and during its time with its old master, but this had never been one of them. Of its many tasks and duties, the pet was certain that it was able to pleasure its masters. And despite its fear, it was certain it could do the same for Master now. This was its chance to prove itself, make a good first impression, show Master that it was more than its inability to hear his commands.

All that remained was to slowly, carefully, turn its head to the side, look up at Master and push its lower lip out ever so slightly- And as soon as its eyes met Master’s, Master shouted with a roar of what the pet knew was fury.

A/N: And in this chapter, we spend 8,000 words to eat a sandwich, make a phone call, and take a shower. I wonder what happens next!

Taglist

@honey-is-messi @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @squishablesunbeam @tragedyinblue

@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

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@maenr @whump-enthousiast

[sosa2imagines]

Ooo I just thought about this idea!!

Can I please request a Nick Fowler x fem!civilian reader where she’s at the wrong place at the wrong time and witnesses a crime that him and his men are committing and they take her hostage and originally plan to get rid of her because she’s seen too much and honestly his men are completely ready to follow through (they’re the ones who found her), but in her fear/nervousness she can’t help the sarcastic jokes and rambling that keep flying out of her mouth, to the point where honestly Nick is so amused by her and thinks she’s hilarious, and the two of them have clear chemistry and flirtation that neither can deny, so he decides to spare her and instead offer a deal (similar to the one he gave Mace, just without the spy stuff), asking her to join him and be with him (and unlike Mace, she happily agrees) *Cue Nick spoiling Y/n, giving her a life of luxury,and them falling In love🤧*

Sorry this took time, but I do hope it was worth the wait and you like it. Warning- Goons, metion of a body(nothing graphic or in details), fluff.

It had been a long day at work for you, and all you wanted was a night of comfort and relaxation. You picked up a bottle of water and a snack from a convenience store, and put on your earbuds, tuning out the world around you as you made your way to the registers to pay.

As you were leaving, you glanced down the alleyway towards the nearest exit.

The sound of someone grunting and moaning caught your attention. You hadn’t expected to step out into an alleyway crime scene. If only you had turned on your ear buds, you could have totally ignored this. But no!

So here you are.

The warehouse was dimly lit, and you could faintly hear the hum of the streetlights outside. The air was filled with the stench of gas and something else that smelled far worse. You had taken a step when you noticed five men, heavily armed and dressed in dark clothes. Their expressions were cold and devoid of any hint of mercy, and one of the men was dragging an unconscious body towards a black SUV.

You didn’t mean to gasp, but you did. And that was all it took.

A rough hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any scream that was trying to escape your lips. Before you could make a sound, a man with cold, lethal eyes and a face that looked like a skull of bones pushed you up against a hard wall. You found yourself staring at him.

“What do we do with her?” One of the men hissed out.

“She saw too much!” another man growled.

The rational part of your brain was telling you to stay silent, but the fear you were feeling sent your mouth to speak out of instinct.

“Oh great,” you blurted out, the sarcastic words spewing from your lips like a torrent. “Yeah, totally fine. You guys go ahead. I'll just, you know, erase this from my memory using tazer... Pjust zap me…maybe? oh wait, you don't have that, do you? Fantastic!”

Silence.

“Great, I’m going to die! They are not even good looking.” You thought to yourself.

The men looked at each other, a few seemed ready to shoot you to shut you up, while one man was rummaging around in his jacket to pull out his weapon. A voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a knife. It was deep, smooth, and held a hint of amusement.

“Hold on.”

Nick Fowler.

You knew nothing about Nick, just whispers, rumors. Everyone knew he was a dangerous man, someone to be avoided. His reputation was enough to make even the most hardened criminals shiver.

And yet, as he stood there, head tilted slightly, he couldn't help but find amusement in your situation. He seemed almost entertained by the fact that you had seen him in such an exposed position.

“He’s hot!” You thought.

“What’s your name?” Nick asked.

“Uh…” Your brain short-circuited. “Y/n.”

Nick’s smirk turned into a low chuckle. “Cute.” He turned to his men. “Let her go.”

“What?” The one holding you looked confused. “Boss, she saw everything.”

Nick's dark eyes studied you closely, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he gave a slight shrug, as if he had just reached a conclusion. “Yeah, you heard right,” he replied, his voice low and smooth. “She’s definitely the most entertaining thing I have come across all week.”

You couldn't help but speak up, a small smirk on your face. “Damn, man,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You really need to get out more.”

Nick chuckled with a low, rumbling sound deep in his chest. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Sweetheart,” he began, “tell me, what would you do if presented with a choice?”

You replied, your voice laced with a hint of curiosity. “A choice?”

His eyes narrowed as he continued. “You could disappear, vanish into thin air, never to be seen again... or you can choose an alternative.” His voice was laced with a dangerous tone as he issued the last option. “Be. Mine.”

You swallowed hard. The smart thing to do would be to run, to never look back. But the way he was looking at you, like you were something new, something he wanted, sent a thrill through you.

And really, what did you have to go back to?

You smiled, “Well, since you put it like that…”

“What could possibly go wrong? He’ll get bored of me and let me go…” You thought again.

Oh how wrong you were.

Nick Fowler was an enigma in more ways than one. One moment you were barely managing to pay rent, and the next, you found yourself draped in the silks of the wealthiest and wearing the most luxurious of clothes, sipping champagne with an impressive view outside the penthouse suite. You had everything a person could wish for...

Nick spoiled you like a king would spoil his favorite concubine. He showered you with gifts, made sure you wanted for nothing.

Nick was an intriguing man, and he quickly learned that you weren't one who could be bought off. The luxurious lifestyle, the opulent gifts, the lavish cars, none of it had the power to win you over, and he was determined to figure out what did.

He was clever, charismatic, and observant, and soon he discovered that it wasn't the gifts or material items that were drawing you to him.

You couldn't deny it, deep down. You had grown fond of Nick, and he wasn't the type of man you thought suited you. He listened intently, remembered details that other people would overlook, and challenged you, but never tried to control you.

The longer you spent time with him, the harder it became to resist the growing feelings of affection. His charisma and charm were only intensified further by his actions. It had taken time, and you had fallen for him despite your initial reservations.

And how had Nick Fowler, fallen for you?

You pushed his buttons without hesitation. Where even his loyal men, would not question him, you did it like he's your childhood friend. From questions about his life to his life choices. From his profession to personal life. You even did a little dance in secret when he said he's single. You even questioned him about his weapons.

Where Nick was more of a less speaker, you were a complete chatter box. And that stole his heart.

He was dangerous, sure, but with you, he was different. Protective. Teasing. Almost soft in a way you doubted anyone else ever got to see. And the chemistry between you? Electric. He challenged you, you challenged him, and somehow, in the chaos of it all, you fit.

“Regrets?” he asked one night, pulling you onto his lap as you lounged by the fireplace.

You smirked, twirling the expensive ring he’d slid onto your finger a few days ago. “Only that I didn’t say yes sooner.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good girl.”

And just like that, you realized you were exactly where you were meant to be.

With him.

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

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@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss @kpopgirlbtssvt

[rascalentertainments]

Wish Granted 🌟👩🏾🎶 (Wish Reimagined)

Chapter 13: Poor Unfortunate Souls 👸🍪🐂

Chapter 12

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Rosas is bustling more than ever as the citizens prepared for the ceremony. On one hand, everyone being distracted allowed Asha to hide in plain sight. On the other, it was risky that someone could recognize her out of the crowd. Asha realized having the teens around as a group wasn't such a bad thing after all, as they kept eyes off her and Star.

Both Dario and Hal were rambling on about all the wonderful things Rosas had to offer, while Gabo and Simon sort of acted as her personal bodyguards. Though Gabo didn't look all that intimidating holding a young goat. 😅

"And this is where the band comes through during the welcoming song!" Dario explained as he pointed in front of the statues of the royals.

"This is where some of our best artists create portraits of our rulers!" Hal gestured to a small corner where a group of painters were already at work on making several artworks in honor of tonight.

"Oh and can't forget Bazeema's family flower shop over there!" Dario excitedly pointed to a small shop filled to the brim with vast colors of roses. "They have the best flowers, as long as its only roses. King's orders."

"The amount of narcissism in this place is disturbing..." Asha commented, walking past the statues.

"Come on, its not all bad! At least if you ignore the royals stealing our wishes part." Hal said, trying to find the upside to this.

"Allegedly." Dahlia corrected her. She clearly was still standing her ground on the royals. "I'm still going to need proof about all this."

Mouse!Star poked his head out. "Well, the king kind of stabbed me. Is that enough?"

"Look, what I'm saying is that unless I see them doing something so horrible that's its impossible to deny it, I'm not buying it." Dahlia continued as she kept a close eye on both Asha and Star.

"They threw Flazino in a dungeon for pete's sake! Doesn't it bother you that he's missing suddenly?" Asha argued. "There's seriously proof all around you with the people themselves. Do they look happy to you?"

Dahlia looked at the few painters still working, and noticed that a few of them were looking a bit drowsy. One of them had nearly fallen asleep as she was painting and had to wake herself backup. She oddly reminded her a lot of Simon...

But then, lots people get tired during the day from working or other logical reasons, it couldn't possibly be a conspiracy!

"Okay, they do look a little tired, but that's not a reason to think there's something evil going on!" Dahlia stood her ground. "Besides, I'm sure Flazino is fine. Maybe he just went on a secret errand for the royals."

Asha groaned. "This is getting us nowhere. Just forget it." She walked away from the baker and continued onwards.

"And here I thought you cared about your boyfriend." Gabo said in pretend disappointment as he shook his head at Dahlia.

"Of course I care about-" she slightly faltered when she realized what the annoying pipsqueak had said. "He's not my boyfriend! Who even said I even like him that way?" she couldn't even look them in the eye.

"Well, you do talk about him a lot." Hal pointed out as she pulled a set of chalk out from a box and showed it to Asha. "Whenever I'm just passing by, you're usually all 'Flazino' this and 'Flazino' that. Ha, you talk about him even more than the king!"

"All right, it was wasn't that much... " Dahlia grumbled, as she didn't really like being called out.

"And you also swoon over him a lot when he's not looking!" Dario added as he carefully walked on the rim of the water fountain.

"Yes, there's definitely lots of swooning." Bazeema confirmed.

Simon had accidentally fallen asleep after he took a break to sit down, but even he was conscious enough to respond with a yawn, "Yeah, it's true."

That was enough embarrassing Dahlia for today. "Look, none of that is important-or true-right now. What can I do to convince any of you that this is all crazy?"

As the rest of the group was talking Valentino was walking behind Gabo when his ear perked up. He heard a growling sound and assumed it was his own stomach. The goat looked around the sea of people.

Everything looked normal, expect for the African lynx stretched out on a nearby windowsill. He was covered by the large shadow of the awning above him, with only his green eyes and sinister grin shining through.

This made Valentino panic and start bleating like crazy, "MAAAH! MAAAH! MaaaAAAaaaAAAA!" he jumped up and down trying to get their attention.

Asha was too far away to hear, but Bazeema took notice immediately. "What's wrong, little guy?"

Valentino stomped his hooves and pointed over to the windowsill, only now it had a small vase of roses on it. His jaw dropped at how quickly the feline had moved.

"Did you want to see the flowers that badly, or is something else?" Bazeema pondered. Something told her it wasn't just random.

"Or maybe he's just hungry for some roses!" Dario suddenly popped in. "I don't recommend eating the thorns though..."

Valentino gave him the same "are you an idiot?" look he gave Star back in chapter 3.

Dahlia glanced over her shoulder and for a brief moment she thought she saw a slinky cat's tail turn a corner towards her bakery. While Rosas had no shortage of animals or pets roaming around, there was only one pet that was allowed to do as a he pleased.

"I...I just remembered something, I left my spinach puffs in the oven, I better go get them," she said quickly and slowly backed away from the group.

"Oh, I can help with that!" Safi volunteered as wiped his nose with his sleeve.

Dahlia flinched. "Nononono, that's okay!" she exclaimed. "I'm not totally helpless..." she slightly gestured to her crutch. "You guys keep going and I'll just catch up. Besides, the last time you handled the food you sneezed on the Magnifico cookies I baked."

With that, she turned and walked away.

"That was one time, Dahlia! One! Time!" Safi said defensively, then let out a loud sneeze.

Gabo patted Safi on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad. She still mad that I stepped on her cookies a while back. In my defense, it was an act of rebellion." He smiled as if it was a good memory.

Hal waved them all off. "Don't worry about Dahlia. She'll come around, I think she just needs some time to think."

"I wish she had the same optimism like you or Star. We could really use that right now." Asha responded.

Both Hal and Star said in unison. "Thank you!"

"Now come on, while we wait for her, let's continue the real tour!" Hal cheerfully replied as she dragged Asha to another both to look at other art supplies.

She noticed that Asha had an interest in all the artistic items and wanted to show her all the variations of paints, pencils and chalk on the table.

Soon the screen fades to a montage of the teens having fun in the city showing Asha the things they found to enjoy in Rosas.

Dario showed how fun the puppet show could be when its not part if the "Welcome to Rosas" song.

Hal showed her musical skills with a nearby guitar. Thankfully she could actually play. 😅

Simon briefly told the others how his father inspired him to become a knight himself and admired the various kinds of shields the blacksmith made for the soldiers.

Gabo playfully stabbed one of the empty suits of armor to show how well he could handle his father in battle. Everyone took a step back at the sight, but Hal appreciated his enthusiasm.

Both Safi and Bazeema showed their love of animals (Safi leaned more towards chickens, but he was trying) by visiting the petting zoo. Valentino really loved that one as he ended up playing with some of the sheep in the pens.

Asha laughed as her little furry friend was having fun, and she realized that she was doing something that she thought would never happen: She was having fun in Rosas.

Lastly, Hal convinces Asha to show her art skills by buying the chalk from earlier. Asha soon created a mural of Magnifico that looked exactly like him, only more friendly instead of evil. The people nearby looked at it in awe.

Star could see the pure joy on Asha's face as she laughed. Seeing her having fun always made him smile, but it was a different smile than usual. He was slowly feeling something different lately when it came to Asha.

He always had a love for Earth and the people on it, and it brought him joy to see them happy.

But lately he was feeling a different kind of love. Something stronger that he felt for Asha more than he did for Earth. Something that made him want to stay forever.

After the montage ends, the sun is seen slightly going down, showing they had been out all morning. The group seemed more comfortable with each other than they did in previous chapters. They all were incredibly different from each other, but they ended up having fun as if they'd always been friends.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you guys aren't half bad!" Gabo admitted he bit into an apple he "borrowed" from a fruit stand.

"And I can't believe my allergies haven't acted up all this time!" Safi realized and was relieved to finally be out in public without concerning himself with his sneezing problem.

"Yeah, even Bazeema's more outgoing than I thought!" Hal laughed. She looked for Bazeema but didn't see her in the group suddenly. "Wait, where'd she go?"

The others looked around but didn't see her anywhere.

"How does she do that?" said Dario, who was both impressed and scared. "Bazeema! If you're nearby, say 🎶Heigh Ho🎶!" He shouted in case she couldn't hear him. He got a few strange looks.

Simon staggered up and shake off his drowsiness. "I'll find her, just give me a minute. She couldn't have gotten far."

"I hope she's okay..." Safi whimpered as he wrung his hat in his hands with worry. "AAAAACHOOO!" He sneezed into his hat. "Oh no, not again..."

Asha couldn't help but laugh (which she's been doing a lot of lately) the teens were certainly a lot to handle, but they had their own way of having fun.

Mouse!Star poked out from under the hood with cheeky smile. "Looks like your finally making friends! I knew you had it in you. You just needed to bring out your fun side!"

Asha raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not exactly unpredictable as you are." She noted as she folded her arms.

Star chuckled. "I can tell you wanna have fun yourself, but you keep holding back. Who's the one that came with up the idea of bringing those knights to life when we were escaping? Or got excited over those Earth magic things that I had no idea about? And you finally made some friends to talk about all that stuff with! That wasn't me, Asha. That was you."

Asha thought about it. She never really made friends in the Hamlet because she had trouble trusting anyone long term outside her family or Flazino. The seven teens could be loud and slightly annoying, but it was clear their hearts were in the right place, even if they didn't fully believe her.

Could she actually be making friends? Even with the stubbornness of Dahlia or Gabo's desire for anarchy or Dario being.... Dario? It seemed strange, but she was having fun with a group again.

"I'm sure you had lots of friends back home too, right?" Asha laughed. She imagined Star being the center of attention and chatting all the time with the other star nomads. "Had to be lots of fun getting into trouble with them."

She quickly noticed that Mouse!Star's tiny expression changed. He wasn't laughing at all. In fact he looked rather uncomfortable at the mention of his life before coming to Earth.

"I...rather not talk about that." His voice sounded slightly depressed and he looked away from the girl.

Asha had seen the star act like this before. When she mentioned about Star having freedom in the sky, he mentioned that he was actually alone and preferred Rosas over it. It seemed impossible for him to be such since there are countless stars in the sky, yet he never seemed to like talking about his own home.

"Star, you know...you can talk to me about anything, right? We're friends too, aren't we?" Asha gently brushed her finger underneath his furry chin to comfort him. She couldn't exactly hold his hand (or paw) in that form.

The star looked up at her, and said, "Well....you ain't never had a friend like me." he gave her a small smile.

But she could tell he was having a hard time deciding if he wanted to tell her what's upsetting him. As if she could feel something uneasy in him.

However, that would have to wait for a later chapter...

"There she is! We've got the traitor!" A voice boomed from far away. Asha turned and saw a group of guards came charging for them.

How did they know? How did they know?!

Simon stepped in front of the guards. "Guys, wait, wait. I can explain-"

"Quiet, Simon! You're not going anywhere either." One if the guards gruffed at him and pointed his spear at the boy. Simon was surprised he was even being treated like this, but he didn't argue. He simply stepped back with the other teens shielding Asha.

Valentino scrambled back and hid behind Asha, now scared to move from her side.

Asha could slowly feel the fear in her building up again. She couldn't figure out why or how Magnifico knew they were back. Had they lost so much track of time that he was able to find them while distracted?

Star wanted to help Asha, but with too many people around, he could put everyone in more danger by exposing himself to the citizens. He saw Amaya emerge from the guards and his fear started to turn to anger.

"At last, you've finally decided to return to us." she spoke in a firm tone and gestured to the teens surrounding her. "And I see you're not alone this time. You've managed to trick even more people under your spell. Trying to grow yourself an army to attack us?"

"Your highness, I think we can just talk about-" Hal started only for the queen to swiftly raise her hand to silence her.

"No need for excuses." She said coldly. "It would seem that we've had several traitors under our noses the entire time. This simply cannot continue."

The rest of teens looked surprised. The queen wasn't even going to listen? It was looking like Asha waa right after all...

Gabo pulled out his dagger, making a couple the guards aim their spears at him now. "We ain't scared of you! Well, maybe Safi is, but aside from him, we ain't scared of you! I knew you guys were evil this whole time!"

Amaya laughed at his pathetic excuse for bravery. "Oh please, spare your theatrics. We all know who the real villain is here. But luckily for me, someone was brave enough to come forward and bring you to justice."

Asha noticed that two of the teens were still missing. "Oh no..." she whispered in horror.

Safi seemed like he caught on. "You don't mean that...there's no way that Bazeema would do this!" for the first time he finally spoke up without sneezing.

"I'm actually right here." Bazeema whispered as she popped up from behind Safi as if by magic. She actually managed to spook the guards.

"Would you stop doing that?" Gabo grunted, grabbing his chest. "You're gonna give some of us a heart attack! Shy girls... Oy..."

From behind Amaya, someone else stepped forward. Someone with a familiar crutch: Dahlia.

"I'm sorry, Asha. I just want to protect the people I love too." the baker said, with a hint regret in her voice. She hoped that Asha would understand and it wouldn't result the kingdom's destruction. "We can help you too."

Asha didn't answer back, but her eyes were filled anger towards her former friend. This was why she didn't trust others.

"I thought it was always the quiet ones you had to look out for." Dario glanced at Bazeema hiding behind Safi. "No offense, Zee." he sheepishly replied.

"None taken." the shy girl whispered.

Amaya stepped forward. "So what will it be, my dears? Hand over the traitor, or join her as accomplices?" Her tone shifted to make clear the of the consequences.

Upon on the queen's shoulder, the lynx could see Mouse!Star poking out from the inside of Asha's hood. He was ready to pounce as soon as his master gave the signal.

The air grew tense as everyone waited for an answer.

Asha looked around, all eyes on her now. The people looked scared. They had no idea what was coming, nor the influence they were under. To them, she was the threat.

She heard a noise from Gabo. "Psst. When I make the signal, you run with the rest of the guys."

Neither Asha or Star knew what he was planning to do, but went along.

"All right, you asked for it!" Gabo stomped over to one of the guards and put up his fists, looking ready for a fight. "COME ON, I'LL TAKE YOU ALL ON!" His voice was so high and raspy that he sounded like an angry duck.

At first Asha wanted to hold Gabo back, but then quickly realized that this was the distraction. She let a small smile show before she quickly ran off, with Valentino right behind her.

"I like your confidence and all, buddy," Hal commented. "But, uh, I'm pretty sure that even you can't beat all these guys." She looked on at the guards, beginning to inch closer.

"Your highness, please show...." Safi started, but then felt a twitch in his nose. "show....AAAAACHOOO!!" he sneezed so hard that he nearly fell over.

"For goodness sake, cover your mouth." Amaya scoffed. "We don't need a plague to break out."

Sabor noticed Asha suddenly was gone. He looked over the teens and saw her getting further away.

"RRRAWRRR!!" Sabor roared as his fur bristled.

Amaya was concerned something was bothering her sweet pet when she realized he was warning her. The queen quickly noticed Asha had vanished.

"The girl is getting away!" She clenched her fist. Obviously these other bothersome teens were covering for her and the star. How many more traitors were running around this place?!

Sari scrambled to his feet and ran after Asha in fear and Bazeema quietly followed. Simon jerked himself awake and grabbed Gabo, carrying him under his large arm. "Thanks, for a second there, I thought I was going to the dungeon!" the grumpy teen said, relived.

"You four, go after Asha. The rest of you take these remaining traitors away. They'll answer to the king for their crimes." Amaya ordered without hesitation.

The guards split into two groups and did as instructed. The remaining ones closed in on the remaining teens.

"They're not going to get hurt, right?" Dahlia asked, earnestly. "You promised you wouldn't treat them like criminals."

Amaya smiled at the poor trusting girl. "Of course, dear. I just need to use a little force to remind them who's in charge here. Everything will be taken care of before the ceremony."

The queen would prefer that the star is captured in secret, but things were getting rather complicated and more people were getting involved. Perhaps more drastic measures must be made...

While the queen was talking with Dahlia, Hal and Dario attempted to slip away, but the dopey teen had an idea to stop the other guards from getting Asha.

Dario jumped in front of the guards path. "Hey there, gentlemen! You want to see a trick? I've been working on it all week!" He took five colored balls out his pocket and started to juggle them like a circus performer.

The guards ran passed him as if he wasn't even there, kicking up a cloud of dust. "Come on, I barely got started!" Dario shouted to them, disappointed.

"You can sulk later, we gotta go!" Hal told him as she raced behind the guards. Dario soon followed after.

As the guards started to get closer to the rest of the group, an idea sparked into Asha's head. "Star, I know its risky, but can you-"

As if reading her mind, Mouse!Star grinned. "Go for it!"

Asha turned to face the guards, let Star crawl into her hand and swiftly tossed him forward. Before he landed on the ground, a blinding flash appeared and in place of the yellow mouse, the star had become a large grinning bull. And he was CHARGING TOWARDS THEM.

(Fun fact, Disney made a Ferdinand short in 1938, they own two versions of the character now! 😆)

The guards screamed and scrambled over each other trying to get away from him, only for a couple of them to get bucked clear back where they came from. Dario and Hal jumped out of their way just in time, and could see the poor guards soaring over their heads.

When the rest of the guards were far away enough, Bull!Star skid to a halt. "Ha! That's right, you mess with the bull, you get the-gasp-" His attention turned towards a pot of flowers sitting on a nearby windowsill. "Are those daisies?" He trotted over and took a big sniff of them.

He hadn't been able to take much more of the beauty of Earth for a little while and got distracted.

"STAR, STAY FOCUSED, WE GOTTA GO!" Asha's voice echoed to him as the others started to get farther away.

Star was shocked back to reality. "Right, right. Sorry!" He ran back towards Asha and the others, with Hal and Dario finally catching up.

That bought them some time, but Simon looked over his shoulder and saw a new batch of guards-now even bigger looking-coming for them. One of them was his own father.

"We can't keep running forever!" Simon told them, now he was beginning to get tired himself. He normally didn't run this long outside of knight training. "We have to find a place to hide and fast. This whole place like a maze!"

"You all are not going to fit inside my hideout. Especially not Simon." Gabo warned them. Asha and Star seemed to be his exceptions to staying there.

"I'm pretty sure they've raided your place now thanks to Dahlia." said Asha, still bitterly reminded of her betrayal.

Gabo's eyes widened in horror. "THEY'RE GONNA TELL MY MOM ABOUT IT, AREN'T THEY?! She's gonna kill me!" One of the rare times he remembered he's only fifteen years old.

Dario attempted to reassure him. "Nah, I think the king will kill you first before she can even be mad!"

"SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT!" Gabo shouted back, hitting him in the arm.

Bazeema looked nervous, but she had an idea. "Um, I have a place we could-"

"Wanna try just skipping town?" Hal suggested as they came across a two way path. "If star can move fast enough like he did before-"

"He nearly destroyed half the city yesterday." Asha cut her off as she signaled them towards the left route.

"I said I was sorry!" Star defended himself. He was a bit slower since he in a rather large form and the path was getting narrow.

"Don't be, that was glorious!" Gabo laughed, reminiscing about that day of terror.

Eventually, they turned a corner down the alley and were met with a stone wall.

"Oh great! The biggest cliché that could ever happen, A dead end!" Gabo exclaimed as he kicked a rock that hit the wall.

"I'm too young to go to jail, man!" Dario panicked, pulling on the ends of his hat in fear.

"I knew this was going to end bad- AAACHOO! AAACHOO! AACHOO!" Safi sneezed uncontrollably.

The impact budged the wall slightly. Gabo didn't notice, but Valentino did and walked over to it. While the others were arguing, Bazeema noticed him getting curious and followed him.

Valentino followed the scent on the ground all the way to the wall. There were several planks of mahogany wood in front of it. The scent was coming from behind the wood, so the goat tried to move the wood himself, but it was too heavy.

(Yes, I had to change the literal ass scene, who even approved of that-)

Bazeema realized he found her secret entrance. Now they could escape easily! "Good boy, Valentino! You just saved us!" She praised him as he patted his head.

"Maaaa!" He replied, his tail wagging happily.

The shy girl turned to her arguing friends to tell them the good news, "Asha, your friend found my-"

"I'm telling you, I can just take my dagger and-" Gabo began to pull out his weapon.

"Gabo, for the last time. You're not stabbing anyone!" Asha's scolded him.

Bazeema tried again. "Um....its okay, really. Valentino found-"

"I could throw my balls at them! They didn't even stick around to watch my juggling trick." Dario chimed in.

"Oooh, you're doing your magic trick again?" Bull!Star perked up.

"Now's not the time, fellas..." Hal attempted to get them to focus again.

Clearly they weren't getting anywhere and for the first time in her life, Bazeema was getting frustrated. Everyone could be caught at any moment, and they were all busy arguing (or sneezing in Safi's case). So she did something she thought she would never do...

"PLEASE BE QUIET AND LISTEN!" she shouted. Yes, actually shouting!

That finally caught everyone's attention and silenced them.

Bazeema immediately coveted her mouth and returned to her softer voice. "Valentino found another way out. Its behind this." she gestured to the blockage. "But I can't move it."

Asha could hear the sound of horses approaching, followed by a man shouting orders. "We need to hurry. Simon, can you break that down?"

Simon wondered why the literal bull couldn't do it, but there was no time.

Bazeema took Valentino away as Simon stomped over to the wood. He cracked his knuckles and raised his fists over his head. "Better stand back, I'm gonna wreck it!" He warned them.

With a loud grunt, he smashed the area with ease. Simon gestured for everyone to get inside, quick.

Star transformed back to his human form and used his glow to light the way in.

As the teens made their way inside one by one, Bazeema gingerly apologized to Asha. "I'm sorry I yelled."

Asha smiled. "Don't be. You found your voice after all."

Bazeema returned the smile and was the last to enter the hole.

Gabo's voice echoed from inside. "By the way, how are we going to cover our tracks?"

"Oh, I got it!" Star replied.

A small wave of golden dust swirled around the fallen debris and everything put itself back into place, right before the guards passed by.

Back in the heart of the city, some of the people were murmuring amongst each other. They were in shock of not just one, but several traitors were right under their noses. The Queen calmed everyone down with a soothing spell. Soon, they were back under control and carried on about their business as if nothing happened.

Dahlia did feel a bit bad about scaring everyone, but at least it was only temporary. Everyone would be at ease again. Sure, she ousted the traitor, but made it clear to the queen that she didn't want Asha's hurt. If she could see Magnifico really was a generous man, Dahlia knew she could help both sides.

Amaya gave Dahlia an assuring smile. "Don't worry, my dear. You've done a great service to Rosas and the people." She said in an almost motherly tone. "Thanks to you, the traitors will be brought to justice. Magnifico will be delighted to meet the hero of Ross and give you what you deserve." The last sentence sounded rather odd to phrase, but maybe Dahlia was slightly put off by the way Sabor grinned at her.

Dahlia had mixed feelings about this, even though she shouldn't. The baker was absolutely certain that bringing Asha to the royals would not only keep Rosas safe but also clear up a misunderstanding and Magnifico could help her family. If she really was helping her friend, why did it feel...bad?

Perhaps the king would ease her mind...

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

FINAL THOUGHTS

IT'S FINALLY DONE, HOORAY!! 🙌 I know it took me forever to make this, I'm glad it was finished! One part was because I was really busy with work and this chapter wouldn't leave me the hell alone to finish, and the other is that its been pretty difficult to write all the teens lines. As someone who grew to like the idea of a Seven Drawves styled group, I thought they were pretty bland in the movie. And from the art book and deleted scenes showed, they were meant to be much more but got cut down. So I really wanted to show them all having distinctive personalities, could banter with one another, and actually grow in their friendship with Asha and each other. Which brings me to my next thing...

YES, THE TRAITOR IS FINALLY REVEALED IN HERE, AND I CAN TALK ABOUT IT, I'M FREEEEE!!!!!

So yeah, instead of Simon, its Dahlia! I've been keeping this plot twist a secret for almost a year because I really wanted to do something different with the traitor idea. I chose this because during one of the deleted scenes, Dahlia was sent to work in the dungeon, while everyone else sneaked in. Simon was with the group, so that means in the original film, he wasn't a traitor. He was helping Asha. Dahlia mentioned she saw Magnifico's true nature and that she was being punished "for what they did". Which got me thinking, what if Dahlia was the traitor in the original movie? She's the one that believes in Magnifico the most and refuses to see the truth, so what if she ratted them out, thinking she was doing the right thing? What if Asha was betrayed by her best friend? From there, I rolled with it.

As for the story itself, strap yourselves in, because the next few chapters are gonna be WILD! And I'll finally get to the juicy stuff I've been wanting to write for months!

And yes, the poster is nearly done, ITS JUST TAKING FOREVER-

Thanks for reading!

@oh-shtars @tumblingdownthefoxden @chillwildwave @your-ne1ghbor

@annymation @lazytitans-world @thesafireartist @natsuki208

@snackara @kenihewa @mythartist21 @uva124

@spectator-zee @cocoapowderpictures @emptyblog7

@pinkninja0708 @gracebeth3604 @ishadow246 @jojo-ker06

[mommyslittlebird]

Fairytale

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

Request: i had a thought of where wanda / step mom wanda comforts reader after a bad day and a lot angst and fluff too

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, themes of depression, spoilers for the Disney movie Tangled (??)

Word Count: 2k (whoops this was supposed to be a drabble. Whatever.)

A/N: Thank you for the request! This takes place when R was 18 before she left for school, so a prequel to the main story of Her Special Girl.

A/N: Fuck my original A/N here that said this one isn't good. This one is cute and I like it.

It was pouring when you finally got home from work. You walked into the house in your uniform, soaked from the rain.

You saw Wanda in the kitchen, fixing dinner. She’s a wonderful cook, but in your current state the food made your stomach turn. You felt nauseous. You hadn’t eaten all day at work, but you still couldn’t imagine eating anything.

Your dad was at the table reading a newspaper. He didn’t acknowledge you’d come home.

“Hey, little love!” Wanda chimed excitedly, but her face falls when her eyes meet yours. You looked terrible, eyes sunken in, dark with exhaustion. You couldn’t even bring yourself to give her a smile. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You didn’t respond, trying to escape to the privacy of your bedroom before the emotions of the day spilled out of you. You dashed up the stairs.

Your dad set down his newspaper with a frustrated thud. He moved to get up and reprimand you for ignoring your stepmother, but Wanda stopped him.

“Vis, you just make sure my pasta doesn’t burn. I’ll take care of it.”

————

She found you in your room, curled up in the center of the bed. You were still wearing your wet and dirty work clothes, but you’d thrown on one of Wanda’s hoodie. It practically swallowed you with how big it was. The sight melted Wanda’s heart.

“Sweetheart?” She called into the room. You turned over in bed, hiding your face in the hoodie. She came to sit next to on the bed, rubbing gentle circles on the back you’d turned on her. She could feel then that you were crying. You were silent, but she could feel the erratic way you were breathing as your chest heaved. “What’s wrong, baby? It’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s got you honey. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know,” you cried weakly. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s just… everyday is like this. I just wake up with this feeling of despair, and then I go to work and everything is so loud and there’s too many smells and I have to pretend to be happy while I make everyone’s coffee, but I’m just so so tired. I feel like my mind and body are screaming and crying for someone to help me, but this is just my life and no one is coming to save me.”

Wanda pulled you into her lap, not caring that you were still soaking wet. She shushed your cries and rocked you back and forth, letting you ramble and sob into her arms. She tucked your wet hair under her chin, pulling you to her chest so you could feel the gentle beating of her heart. “Shhshsh, let it all out honey. You’re home now. Mama’s got you.”

“All I can do is escape to this white knight fairytale where things are different, and I have friends again, and I don’t have to go on like this. But I’m just being repeatedly ripped out of that fairytale and pulled back into this awful reality I have no choice but to live in. I’m a high school drop out, all my friends left me, I hate my job but I’m just going to hate any job that takes up so much of my time. I can pretend all I want that things are or will be different but this is real life and I’m miserable! I’m miserable and I’m going to be like this until I die!” You sobbed, breathlessly heaving into Wanda’s chest.

Wanda felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. She wished she could be your white knight, take you somewhere far away where you didn’t have to worry about all of the awful things happening in your life. She couldn’t imagine what your situation must feel like right now, hopelessly trying to claw your way out of a well you’re stuck at the bottom of. There were things she was working with you on. You were going to get your GED at the end of the year, but it was still going to be another year before you could even start applying to colleges. The road was going to be long, but she was confident you’d pull through.

That wasn’t what you needed right now, though. You didn’t need to hear her say that just maybe, in a whole two years, you might be able to get your life back on track. You needed something now. You needed something to get you through the night.

“How about this,” she proposed, holding your teary face in her hands. “You take a nice warm shower and get all nice and clean while I go downstairs and finish dinner for your dad and the boys. And then I’ll come back up here with some mac and cheese and some chicken nuggets and we have a special girls’ night?”

You sniffled hesitantly, unsure if you could handle it all: the shower, the food, the company. But in the end, you nodded. Your only other option was to sit in here, alone, withering away in your cold work uniform.

“That’s my sweet girl,” she cooed, pinching you lightly on the cheek. “I’ll pick out some pjs for you and get your water running. One step at a time, angel. I know it’s hard, but you can do this.” She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and walked off to start your shower.

It felt insurmountable, but you got up, washed yourself off in the shower, and dried off before putting on the pajamas Wanda set out for you. On top, there was a fresh one of her sweatshirts for you to wear. You threw it on, inhaling her sweet scent with your arms up to your nose. You made your way back into your bedroom.

Within five minutes of you getting back, Wanda came knocking on your door with some mac and cheese and microwave chicken nuggets. Your stomach turned at the sight of the food. Even your safest meal felt nauseating.

“I know you don’t wanna eat, love, but you’ve gotta try and eat at least a little bit for me, okay? We’ll start with two nuggets and half of the mac and cheese,” she says.

You nodded, reluctantly taking the plate and working on your mac and cheese.

“Now, I think it’s time for a movie and some cuddles, don’t you think?” Wanda asked, already setting up the pillows and blankets on the bed. “What would you like to watch?”

You shrugged, unable to think of anything helpful while fighting your stomach for cooperation. “You pick.”

Wanda gave you a soft smile of understanding. She understood the inability to make a decision, and she was more than happy to make one in your stead. She ended up putting Tangled on the small tv in your room.

She sat against your headboard, legs spread and tapped the space in between, welcoming you to sit. When you did, she threw your favorite blanket over your shoulders and set your favorite stuffed animal, Thomas, in your lap. You rested your chin on his head.

“Do you want me to braid your hair like Rapunzel’s?” She asked once you’d gotten to the hair brushing scene.

You buried your face into Thomas. “I-I didn’t wash it in the shower,” you admitted shamefully. It needed to be washed after being in the rain, but you were out of energy.

“That’s okay,” she assured without judgement, starting a French braid on your dirty, wet hair. “We’ll put some dry shampoo in it in the morning.” She braided your hair with you curled up between her legs, tying it off with a little pink ribbon.

“If I were Rapunzel, I’d let you climb up my hair,” you said when she finished, leaning back against her chest.

She wrapped her arms around your waist, giggling at your silly antidote and kissing the back of your head. “You would?”

You nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah. Not dad though.”

Wanda smiled and giggled again. “You just want your tower to be me and you? No one else?”

You shook your head. “Just me and mama, in our tower together.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Just you and mama in a tower, huh? I can definitely get behind that. What would we do in our tower all day?”

You shrugged. “You could braid my hair, and we could sings songs, read books together, paint the walls, snuggle in our bed. We could do whatever we wanted really.”

She smiled, noting that you had said ‘our bed’, implying your dream castle only had one bed for the two of you to share. “So they would be no one to stop me from doing this?” She turned your head with her hand and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

You looked at her for just a moment before chasing her lips again. And again. And again.

She giggled. “Okay, honey. That’s enough.” She certainly didn’t mind the kisses, but she knew you’d spend the whole movie kissing her if she let you. And she still had plans.

You curled back up in her lap. Right. You were letting yourself get lost in fairytale again. You weren’t in a tower in the forest with no one else. You were in real life, with your father and step-brothers in the rooms surrounding you. Wanda wasn’t your handsome rogue, she was your stepmother. This wasn’t a quirky pairing between a theft and a princess. This was a disgustingly taboo relationship that would ostracize you from everyone in your life if they found out.

Wanda wrapped her arms back around you, pulling you close. “Hey, princess,” she said, kissing your temple. She sensed your discomfort and could immediately tell what you were thinking. She wanted to stay with you in this fairytale for just a little longer. It couldn’t be forever, of course, but you could play pretend, for now. “We don’t have to leave our tower just yet. We have until morning, just the two of us.”

“M-morning?” You asked. Wanda always had to leave early in the night. She had to go back her room so your dad wouldn’t get suspicious.

She stroked your hair, slicking back the frizzy hairs that escaped your braid. “I told your dad that you’re not feeling well and I was gonna stay in here tonight.” She pointed to the packed air mattress on the floor. She had no plans of sleeping on it, of course, but she needed to make the lie believable.

You looked at her with wide teary eyes, unable to believe she’d do such kind thing for you, even when the risk of it was so high. She just returned the look with a soft smile and redirected your attention to the movie.

The movie was nearing the end, specifically when they finally get to see the lanterns and light on of their own. Wanda leaned forward and kissed your neck, using her hand to direct your head up to the ceiling. She turned on the fairy lights that lined the ceiling. They’d been there since you were a teenager, but you never turned them on. Most days you forgot they were there. She turned them to a setting with a gentle twinkle.

You were so overcome with love, you flipped yourself around in her lap so you were straddling her legs and wrapping your arms loosely around her neck. You felt like your entire body was buzzing with electricity when she pulled you down by the back of your neck into a kiss. A real kiss this time, not just the pecks she was giving you earlier. You whimpered against her lips.

“Shh, angel,” she whispered against you, advising you to quiet down before she had to stop. You slipped your hands under the hem of her shirt, tugging on it in a silent request. “Sweetheart, we can’t…” she said sadly but firmly. There was no way she could fuck you while everyone else was still home, no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I know,” you assured. “I don’t want to. Just let me feel you. Please.”

She looked in your pleading eyes, now twinkling in the fairy lights. She sighed. She couldn’t deny you anything. She slipped the shirt off over her head, leaving her bare under you.

You smiled, lying down on top of her and rubbing your face against her soft exposed skin. She smiled down at you, affectionately wrapping her arms around you to rub your back.

“I love you, mama,” you said, nuzzling your face into her chest with the first genuine smile you’ve had all day.

“I love you too, baby,” she said, squeezing you into her and kissing the top of your head. She couldn’t fix everything for you, but, when you needed it most, she could give you your fairytale.

[ariahmichelle]

Seeing Red

JJ Maybank Imagine

Summary- When a wealthy Kook starts flirting with you at a party, JJ cant hide his jealousy. After an argument, he finally admits how much he cares about you.

A/N- my requests are currently open

The party is in full swing, music blasting through the speakers as people dance around the bonfire. The air is thick with the scent of salt, smoke, and cheap beer. It’s a typical Outer Banks night—loud, wild, and chaotic.

But JJ Maybank isn’t having fun.

He’s standing off to the side, beer in hand, jaw clenched so tight he swears his teeth might crack. He’s barely heard a word of whatever Pope’s been rambling about for the past five minutes. Because across the bonfire, in the middle of a group of Kooks, is you.

And some guy is all over you.

A rich, preppy-looking asshole with a perfect haircut and a smug grin, standing way too close, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh.

JJ doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

“You good, man?” Pope finally asks, following his line of sight. His expression shifts when he sees what—or who—JJ is staring at.

“Shit,” Pope mutters. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

JJ scoffs, taking a swig of his beer. “I’m chill.”

Pope raises an eyebrow. “Dude, your eye is literally twitching.”

JJ ignores him, his grip tightening around the bottle. He’s not jealous. He just doesn’t like Kooks. And he sure as hell doesn’t like watching one try to sweet-talk you like he’s got a chance.

And then it happens.

The guy tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

JJ sees red.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s moving, shoving past people with a determined stride. Pope calls his name, but it’s drowned out by the roar of the party.

By the time you notice him storming over, it’s too late.

JJ doesn’t hesitate—he steps right between you and the Kook, forcing him to take a step back. “Alright, Casper,” JJ sneers, tilting his head. “You can go now.”

The guy scoffs. “Uh, I was in the middle of a conversation.”

JJ grins, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “Yeah? Well, it’s over.”

“JJ,” you warn, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving you,” he replies easily, still glaring at the guy. “You’re welcome.”

The Kook rolls his eyes. “Dude, chill. We were just talking.”

JJ lets out a humourless laugh. “Oh, is that what you call it?” He crosses his arms, stepping even closer. “See, I know your type. You think just ‘cause you’ve got daddy’s money and a trust fund, you can get whatever you want. But she’s not for sale, man.”

Your eyes widen. “JJ—”

“Whatever, man,” the Kook mutters, backing off with a scoff. “Not worth the trouble.”

JJ watches him walk away before turning to you, expecting a thank you—maybe even a look of admiration. Instead, you’re glaring at him like you’re ready to throw him into the fire.

“What the hell was that?” you snap, crossing your arms.

JJ blinks. “What do you mean? I just saved you from—”

“I didn’t need saving! I was handling it!”

JJ scoffs. “Oh, come on. That guy was a dick.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Don’t have to,” JJ retorts. “I know how guys like that work. He was trying to get in your head.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “And what? You think it’s your job to protect me? I can take care of myself, JJ!”

His frustration boils over. “Maybe I don’t want you to have to!”

The words hang between you, heavy and unspoken for too long. JJ’s chest rises and falls, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Your expression softens, but your voice is still firm.

“JJ…” you sigh. “Why do you care so much?”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking away. He doesn’t want to say it—not like this, not in the middle of a party. But he’s already too deep in it now.

“Because it drives me insane watching other guys look at you like that,” he admits, his voice lower now. “Like you’re something they can just… win.” His jaw tenses. “You’re not a fucking prize, Y/N. You’re… you’re you. And they don’t get to have you.”

Your heart pounds. “And you do?”

JJ freezes, eyes snapping to yours. The firelight flickers against his face, shadows dancing across his sharp features. For once, he looks uncertain.

“I don’t get to have you,” he murmurs. “But God, I want to.”

The air between you crackles, thick with something unspoken. You swallow, your anger melting into something else entirely.

“Then maybe,” you whisper, stepping closer, “you should stop acting like an idiot and do something about it.”

JJ searches your face, like he’s trying to figure out if this is real. If he’s allowed to want this—want you.

And then he does it.

His hand finds your cheek, and before you can think, his lips are on yours. It’s messy, heated, desperate—like he’s been holding this in for way too long. And maybe he has.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans against your lips, like he’s finally found something he’s been searching for. When you finally pull back, breathless, JJ leans his forehead against yours, his hands still gripping your waist.

You laugh softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Took you long enough, Maybank.”

JJ grins, pulling you back in. “Better late than never, sweetheart.”

[sashaaababy]

Candy - Che Ecru

Authors Note: This is a Toji fanfic;) Ive been saying i was working on a fanfic so here it is? i hope its up to standards, and for all you horn balls ill highlight the first word of where the smut starts

Summary: Reader is a young and broke dropout who was offered a job as a bartender at a strip club since she was friends with the owner. toji is a divorced single alcoholic

Wc: 2,621

Cws: Oral, rough s*x, An*l, creamp!es, p in v, nsfw, smut, dacryphilia, doggy, age gap, spit, c*m play, tummy bulge, size kink, toji is BIG, daddy kink, headlock, biting, choking, slight p!ss, reader has daddy issues, Not proof read!!

Being a drop out college student meant being on bad terms with your family, not contacting them for months, and working as a bartender at a strip club. Which also meant dealing with creepy old men wanting to fuck you on the daily, but it was the only way for you to pay for your cheap lower class apartment. You had daddy issues mommy issues shit, all kinds of issues, you hated your life and would kill to change it. but you cant, so you get dressed putting on your work uniform (a skirt and white collard shirt) and look in the mirror straightening yourself up and brushing your hair, throwing on whatever makeup fixed your eye bags. You grab your keys and purse and walk out the front door, and down the stairs of your apartment, "y/nnnn i feel like i never see you, you work late yeah?" the creepy old man at the front desk always tried to make small talk with you and you always tried your best to ignore him and walk faster out the broken revolving doors that lead into the apartment complex. Once your out you scramble for your keys in your purse and unlock your car door.

The drive feels short but you wish it felt long, you dreaded work but once again the bills aren't going to pay there self. You get out of your car and walk to the more expensive revolving doors that lead into the strip club, unlike the ones to the apartment complex these one actually work. "y/n! omg i feel like i havent seen you in forever" one of the girls run up to you and give you a hug squeezing you so tight you feel like you actually cant breath "didnt you see me yesterday?"you let out a soft giggle patting her back slightly as she lets go of the tight hug she had on you "hmmph yesterday was a long time" she pouts "i have to get working ill see you later yeah"

you set your stuff in the employee locker room and walk out to the bar table serving people there drinks and receiving tips from people who are probably to drunk to even drive home but is it bad you couldn't care less? "can i get the cotton Candy margarita" you hear a deep raspy voice from behind you as you were putting away a few bottles you turn around and see the man who was talking to you, he looked like shit, i mean no he was attractive but he looked like he had just been through the worst moments of his life "you gonna get me my drink, sweets? or no" you scramble for your words "o-oh yeah sorry about that" you turn back around embarrassed for staring make him his drink and hand it to him and like every start of some cheesy romance show, your fingers brush and you try to think nothing of it until he try to make small talk with you "you look pretty young to be working here ma, how old are you?" you stare again, not because he looks like shit but because this guy is huge like muscles that could crush you on accident without even trying, "your staring" you snap out of your gaze "oh- uhm I'm sorry, I'm 22 recently- my friends owns the place so he gave me a job here since i was kind of looking for a job" you stop yourself before you go on a ramble about how your a drop out low class apartment living failure "ahhh i see" he takes a sip of his drink looking around the bar and back at you, this time up and down like he's checking you out, you look away and clean a cup to act like your distracted or busy. "do you dance?" your eyes snap back to him giving him your full attention "dance?", "yeah like on the poles and shit" of course he meant that, gosh you feel so stupid "oh- uhm no I've never tried it before, I'm to shy for that kind of stuff." your eyes go back down to the cup you were cleaning "thats a shame" thats a shame? what does he mean thats a shame? does he wanna see you half naked on a pole? no you don't even know the guy. thoughts rush through your mind completely distracted to the fact that the guy has already left and also, left a $100 bill on the counter, your a bit disapointed you didnt get to say bye but whatever.

You walk back to to the locker room to grab your stuff, you walk outside in the cold fresh air and get inside your car to drive home, but this drive felt long, unlike it was driving to work, driving home you couldn't stop thinking about the interaction with that man, yes yes you have spoken with many people at work serving them drinking, shit you even have regulars who come in everyday and speak to you, but this guy was oddly mysterious and come on the way he just left?the $100 tip? way weird. But before you can stop thinking about it, your already home stepping out of the car and into those broken revolving doors that you need to push to get past, luckily that weird creepy guy isn't on his shift and its a lady who's about to fall asleep, i mean it is roughly 2am so its completely valid, you take the elavator all the way up to your floor and walk down the eerily quiet hallway, you dig for your keys in your purse and unlock the door and sigh as you step into your sad embarassingly small apartment, you set your stuff on the counter and sit on your bed to count your tips, you go through them when you come across the $100 bill and see something on the back of it, his phone number, you look confused not knowing if this was an accident or he meant to do it. you ignore it and put the cash away in your nightstand and stand up to take a shower and get ready for bed you turn on the shower and strip off your work clothes waiting until the shower is warm enough to step in.

You step out of the steamy hot bathroom and dry your body off scrambling through your drawer to find some pj's, once you do you climb into bed and stare at your ceiling not able to get that man and the phone number off of your mind, you grab the $100 bill from your nightstand drawer and text the number, only to see if he meant to put it or if it was an accident of course, "hey, this is the girl from the strip club, the bartender who served you your drink, did you mean to put your number on the bill or?" send. you set your phone down not expecting him to respond to the text immediately since it is 2am at night, *ding* your phone goes off just as your about to close your eyes, you reach for your phone and see the number pop up as a message notification "Hey sweets, you can start by saying thank you for the tip" you read the message slightly annoyed "thank you." you type back and hit send before falling asleep not being able to stay up any longer.

You wake up to your alarm and check your phone to see no reply back from him, you notice you don't even know his name but you move on with your day as that was just a random thought, when the time arrives to get ready for work you do your usual routine and grab your keys having that creepy guys at the front desk try to make small talk while you quickly walk out, the get to work and start taking peoples orders, and it is BUSY your exhausted as the night drags on, but then that same man comes by "hey sweets" you look up at him "you didn't answer my text" you say in a softer voice than usual, you hate to admit you were a bit sad he didn't text you back, even though you didn't even know him or his name, your life was insanely boring and he made it slightly interesting "what was i supposed to say to a thank you?" he pouts and you almost believe he was actually sad you didn't start a real conversations, you change the subject "i don't even know your name" you say softly looking at the empty glass in your hand pretending to be occupied so you don't have to look him in the eye "Toji". "Toji" you repeat feeling the way it rolls of your tongue "it sounds nice coming from you sweets" he says resting his chin in the palm of his hand, and you cant help but feel your face heat up a bit "im y/n, your weirdly comfortable to someone you don't even know" you say with a smile finally making eye contact with him, "let me take you out" your face visibly heat up at the sudden ask, take you out? he doesn't even know you but how could you not, i mean look at him. "okay" you say acting unbothered trying to hide the fact your screaming inside "perfect, ill pick you up after your shift" he says it so calmly like none of this is new to him.

Next thing you know you're getting into a mans car you barely know, "you buckled up ma?" you nod nervous for what your getting yourself into "where are we even going, its super late i doubt anywhere is open." he shakes his head "don't worry that pretty little head of yours alright?" and you listen obediently sitting patiently in the passenger seat of his car. he pulls up to an expensive looking building and thats when you realize its a penthouse, your at his house, on the first time going out with him? i mean your already here and you cant change your mind now. He gets out and runs to the other side of the car to open the door for you before holding his hand out to help you out of the car, you look up at the building as you step out, you have butterflies swimming in your stomach, you hands are sweaty your scared if he can feel it, "cmon ma no need to be nervous" he kneels in front of you putting his face in your hand looking up at you "i have sum good food, games, i don't expect anything from you i just want you to have a good time ma" oh this man is down bad which is surprising for how scary and big he looks, but you give in feeling more comfortable and not as he gets up and leads you inside and into the elevator you both walk into his dimly lit penthouse and your shocked, food on the island table, a pool table, being a broke drop out you never thought you could ever step foot in a place like this or breath near a place like this, you look around fascinated and excited at the food "did you make this?" Toji wont lie to you he didn't make it, his house keeper did "hah, no i have a house keeper she's a great cook" you look around at all the sweets and eat a cupcake happily, he comes up behind you hugging your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder "is this okay ma?" you nod slowly shocked but comfortable having the man twice your size hold you like this, in some way you felt safe even though being here with a man you haven't even known for a week is probably insanely dangerous.

And it was, because next thing you know your getting your brains fucked out on the living room couch, he's putting you in doggy style forcing your back in a arch you didnt even know you could do, pounding his cock into your warm cunt, bullying your cervix with his fat tip kissing it and your g spot making you feel that deep stretch with his girth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as wet *plap plap* noises fill the room while you gush all over his cock and balls, "f-fuck baby your pussy's so h-hah tight" he's digging his nails into your hips you swear it will leave marks in the morning, he leans forward putting his weight and chest on your back as his arm reaches around putting you in a headlock that makes your brain feel fuzzy and your vision go blurry, all you can feel is his cock drilling your pussy "h-hnngh T-toji s-stop -i need to -pee" he thrusts even faster you swear he's just being mean "h-hah i don't care" you whine and try to squirm away from his cock but the headlock he has on you keeps you in place "T-toji seriouslyyy" he uses his other hand that was on your hip to reach under you and push on your bladder "i s-said i don't care" you whine and piss on his cock and his thrusts only get faster "f-fuck your such a dirty fucking slut on my c-cock" he bites down on your neck trying to muffle his whimpers and grunts, he moves his hand towards your lower belly feeling the bulge in your tummy "f-fuck you f-feel that baby? thats d-daddys cock drillin your belly" you start crying from the overstimulation and the orgasms hes taken out of your body "f-fuck baby your so small compared to me, i don't even know how this small little hole is taking me s-so well- oh fuck!" you feel warm thick spurts of cum fill your hole shooting directly at your cervix as he pumps it deep into you with long slow thrusts making sure you get your fill, "fuckkk baby just like that- milk daddy's cock cmon sweets don't s-stop" he flips you over onto your back as he slips out of your gaping pussy so he can watch the mix of juices run out of your hole and onto the bed sheets "fuck baby your beautiful" he climbs closer to you hooking his arms under your legs spreading them wider as he settles his face between your thighs licking his dry lips before leaning in and looking up at you with his gorgeous eyes. Sucking on your clit flicking it with his tongue before giving your hole attention, sticking his two thumbs inside and spreading it wide so he can look inside, "fuck i filled you up good huh baby?" he sticks his tongue in fucking it in and out tasting the mix of you both combined spitting on your pussy and playing with it "fuck baby, tastes js like Candy" he uses 2 fingers sticking them inside while he sucks on your clit while your a crying whiney mess trying to push his head away but it just makes him flick his tongue faster on your clit, "T-toji s-stop it i cant-" tears stream down your face from the overstimulation "your so pretty when you cry baby, you have no idea" and once you cum one last time for him he kisses your clit before crawling back up to you and hugging your waist pulling you up close to him and kissing all over your neck before having you fall asleep on top of his massive body that you barely cover half of.

[rueharley]

"I can help you baby"

~Rafe Cameron x Anxious Reader Girlfriend~

-Rafe notices you're nervous at a party and he helps.. In more ways than one.

(Contains detailed descriptions of anxious overthinking)

........ 18+ minors DNI........

The party was buzzing, alcohol and lust fuled the air of the cramped, hot rooms. If you managed to look in between the packed crowds of intoxicated people, you'd catch sight of the few who are subject to the drunken blues.

I was with Rafe, or, more accurately, I was with Rafe and his loud, erratic, friends. They bounce around, their testosterone on the verge of implosion, and with the calmness of a puppy in an open field (basically non existent).

Always spurring things about various topics that felt insignificant or confusing to me. Shouting, blurting, and rambling over each other.

I tried to listen, to focus, to imagine the context and circumstances of the memories repeated. But the stories, jokes, and recollections were all lost on me.

The soft touch of Rafes hand on the small of my back brought me comfort. It soothed the anxiety that was tangled in my mind.

I've been a bit more anxious than it is appropriate to admit. I had no reason to be either nervous, scared, stressed, scared; or however else you can describe anxious.

I'm here, with Rafes friends that I know well. I know them, they know me, but I'm still praying that they'll ignore me.

I'm wishing that I'm invisible because one comment in my direction might result in me spiralling.

Spiralling down, down, into the abyss of overthinking and anxiety, one I'm good at staying out of.

I've always been on the more timid side, but I hold my ground. I always reply, I always try to contribute, but I've never been a natural at it.

Sometimes it feels that if someone asks me a question, or even gives me attention in their gaze, I might combust.

I panic sometimes from the mere act of communication and clearly now it is particularly bad.

"I'm gonna get a drink.." I say to Rafe, having to lean closely and practically shout due to the noise level.

"I can do that, baby," he says, his mumbled tone being almost entirely lost in the sea of sound.

I instantly thought 'no let me do it, It is a reason for me to get away from this social circle that I am miserably struggling to function in'.

He stands up before I had the chance to reply, he never let's me have to get my own drinks. He thinks it is his responsibility to do those things for me.

He leaves, dissappearing into the crowds of the annihilated party people.

Alone. How did I end up alone? This wasn't the plan. I don't even want that drink anymore, I've suddenly noticed I feel nauseous.

I give my attention back to Rafes friends, they thankfully remained partially distracted in their own mingling. Not sparing much of their focus on me.

I began to bite my lip, Rafe going was a tip of the iceberg although I tried to deny it.

I exhaled slowly, glancing down...

The ground.

Solid, sturdy, insusceptible to understand the reason for my devoted attention.

I found it hard to think of anything but the dull, carpeted floor and the slight fog of my anxious mind.

I know time is passing but I have no idea how quickly.

That's the thing with anxiety, it trys to consume you. It subjects you to it's distorted views when in reality your mind just needs a minute to breath. To realise it's going to be okay. That I'm in control if I can just clear my head and find out if it was two minutes or two hours that passed.

"here you go, baby," Rafes voice suddenly appeared besides me, his hand going on my waist.

I didn't realise how much time passed and I instantly felt guilty and embarrassed for my distant behaviour.

I look up to him, taking my drink from him. I gave him an appreciative smile, one he reciprocated.

His focus went back to his friends, his gaze going onto them and their antics.

I tried to focus on my drink, still not wanting it anymore. Neither it's coolness, it's soothing, or it's distraction seemed to intrigue me. I'm becoming to feel frustrated with myself.

I need to get out of my mind.

I continued to hear their chatter. Something about one of their friends getting put into a jail for a night. I didn't care for it much.

I put my drink down on the table. The glass making a dull thud as it made contact with the smooth, dark, wood.

I fiddled with the rings that were on my fingers. It caused a temporary distraction which gave me a lot of relief.

I heard them all laughing resulting in me looking up and sharing a smile to show I was paying attention.

Why did everything feel so glitchy?

I spun my ring on my finger. The metal wasn't cold anymore proving how long I've been doing this.

I inhaled deeply. 'Stay calm' I tell myself.

"you okay, baby?" Rafe says from besides me, pulling me from my trance at an alarming rate.

I look to him, taking in the way he dipped his head to catch my gaze, his icy-blue eyes already knowing the answer.

"I'm fine, just got distracted," I say, smiling to him, I glanced to his friends who I knew were watching this interaction.

"hm," was his simple, short, kurt response. His gaze returned to the chit chat emerging from his friends once again.

I could tell he wasn't really paying attention.

My fluttery tone was taken in a distasteful manner by him. He knew something was up, of course he did.

My hand, which still spun my rings aimlessly, were suddenly met with Rafes.

He slipped his hand to mine, intertwining our fingers before he looked to me about to speak.

"you should have told me you wanted to play with something," he says, a small smirk on his gorgeous lips, "play with me, baby, you know how much I like it,"

I felt a rosy tint to my cheeks. I felt his gaze was on me, waiting and reading my response.

I was unsure how to reply feeling slightly flustered by his scheme of calming me down.

He leaned closer to speak to me, to whisper in my ear, ensuring only I'd be able to hear him.

"you anxious, baby?" his caramel voice spoke, his hot breath fanning my neck.

I nodded in response, not having energy to have to project my voice when a simple gesture would work.

The was a pause as he registered my response.

"wanna get out of here?" he spoke, pulling back to look me in the eyes.

"yeah" I say, noticing how his eyes flickered to my lips to lip-read my response in the loud room.

A smile met with his lips, as if he took my response as a compliment. I knew he was probably glad to be able to get me alone.

He turned to his group of friends "we gon' be heading out," he says in his usual confident tone.

There was a few vocal objections but Rafe was already leading me away, his hand holding mine.

Once we began to walk off Rafes hand gestured a wave to the crowd once their objections stopped. They soon shout bye in our direction, Rafe seemingly more focused on getting me out of there.

He protectively guided me through the crowds, I would lie if I said I didn't get a little flutter in my heart when he treats me this way. I feel so safe as he ensures I get through the crowd with no disturbance to my mental or physical state.

The second we left the building the chilly night air tickled my skin. I inhaled deeply letting my lungs fill with the fresh air, a shocking contrast to the air in the party.

I glanced up to the starry night sky. The sky might have been more crowded than the rooms of the party. Filled with a special type of beauty, decorated in constellations.

We began to walk across the scarce car park. Rafes hand was still holding mine as we walked towards his car.

Everything had began to calm down now. My anxiety turned into a gentle fondness for being with Rafe in such a beautiful night like this.

We reached the car and Rafe stopped besides it and caught my eyes.

"why were you shy back there, baby?" he asked, his hand going up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

I smiled slightly, mostly due to slight embarrassment from my previous behaviour.

"I just felt a bit anxious.. Overwhelmed mainly," I respond, looking away from the fact I didn't want to admit it out loud.

He chuckled softly before walking towards me causing me to take some steps back till my back reached the side of the car.

I looked to him, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Just where I want you," he says, his voice dripping with a certain level of lust, "well, not quiet, I'd prefer you to be in.. 'different' places,"

I knew what he was implying. He wanted me alone, in his bedroom, his bed-

I took my mind off that trail of thought. His eyes were piercing my own.

His hand met with the hemming of my shirt, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric and onto my soft skin.

A sly seductive look sparked in his darkened eyes.

His fingers on my skin began to dance in random, tracing patterns. My breathing became a bit more controlled, he noticed this and smiled slightly.

He leans forwards to whisper in my ear, "you should have told me you felt all those.. Big.. Overwhelming feelings.. Should have told me it was too much to 'handle,'

His words were like sex, all mixed with his cologne. A dangerous, intolerable mix.

"I could have made it better, hm..," he spoke, pushing his hand further up, trailing over my ribs, "could have given you that relief that you crave so, so much.."

My body trembled under his touch, unable to think of anything but his curious hands.

My anxiety was gone now. Insignificant and irrelevant. Nothing mattered more than this touch. His touch can evaporate my nerves.

"but you didn't baby.. No, you stayed quiet.. Made me worry 'bout you. Hm, that, well.. It just isn't going to work now is it, baby,"

Trying to focus on his words took all the willpower of every cell in my body. The way his hand was now playing with the edge of my bra, the way his voice dripped in seduction.

"see, what I want is for you to tell me, only so I can help, I only want to my help my baby, don't want he keeping all that in her pretty little head,"

His hands, his sexy, slow, seductive fingers sliding over my skin, my stomach, my ribs the underside of my brea-

He laughed, his signature smirk on his perfect lips. He loved the sight of me so effected by his touch and his words. If he wasn't proving a point this would be going somewhere else.

"can you tell me what you'll be doing next time, baby?" he said, his hand moving to trace up and down my waist. This gave me some more control over my focus.

I contemplated his words for a moment. He wants to know when I feel that way and I think l could promise to tell him when I feel that way.

"I'll tell you how I feel," I reply, my tone honest.

It was as if my words were asking him for his satisfaction. As if asking if I did well, if he'd give me approval, and he heard this.

He smiled again, "hm, that's my baby,"

His voice rolled of his tongue in a threateningly seductive way. I was right where he wanted me.

Wanting him.

He wanted me to want him, and I did. I wanted to taste his addictive flavour. That was his best way to show his love; through his irresistible, lustrous gaze, that consumed me every single time.

......................................................................

(Might make a part two..? What you think?)

[samuraionyourmom]

Been thinking about my Android Dazai AU lately. I've been asking myself a couple of questions about it since no one else seems to 😒 /lh (if you have any questions, please send them in, I beg. I yearn to yap). I've been mostly asking myself these questions to help me flesh out this AU better, and I thought I'd share my process.

If you haven't heard about it, you can check out my other posts about it here as well as the fic I made for it!

So, anyway, onto my ramblings. Prepare for an info dump and a half.

I'm sticking with the main question I've been asking myself for this post, and that is:

Why did Mori create Dazai? Why not just stick with Elise? What are his motivations?

This has been one of the toughest questions I've been faced with when I imagine this AU. It stumped me for a long while, so I just ignored it for the time being. But after a deep analysis of Mori's character, I've come to a conclusion.

Right off the bat, I'd like to make it clear that Mori has no creepy or pedophilic reasons for creating Dazai in this AU, so throw that thought away. I don't want to hear about it.

For starters, I'd like to lay out who Mori is as a person. Or how I view him, anyway. Deep down, Mori longs to take care of someone. We see this in Beast when he's free from his duties as Boss and is able to open up an orphanage. He states that he wishes he could have saved Dazai instead of manipulating him like he did.

But as it currently stands in the main timeline, Mori is unable to indulge in this desire. He is a slave to the organization, as he puts it, and he has a duty to go with the most logical solution as its leader. Facts over feelings and all that. Whether that means pushing Yosano to her limit despite his own hatred for using fear as a way to control people or sacrificing Oda, someone who he knows is very dear to Dazai, for the sake of obtaining the permit.

All this to say that Mori is very repressed. Personally, I say that these secret desires manifest themselves in Elise. She has some of Yosano and Dazai’s characteristics, both people Mori wish he could've cared for properly, and he spoils her openly, almost as if he's trying to make up for lost time.

Now, back to the AU. Elise's existence allows Mori to indulge in his fantasies, yes, but he wants something tangible. Elise is a manifestation of his own wants, but she's not real. So Mori decides to make an android. Maybe it's in a moment of weakness, so desperate for something, anything, to care for to make up for the pain he's caused.

Why not just adopt a child? Well, as much as he would like to, having a child in the Port Mafia isn't a wise decision, morally or logically. So he settles for an artificial one. It's different enough from Elise because it's something that can just vanish into thin air like she does. Something physical.

He works tirelessly to design, engineer, and produce an android that can give him as close to what he wants as possible. Not a baby, though. He couldn't bear that. He settles on a young teen for the design (again, not for creepy reasons, you weirdos). Something that he could care for, but isn't entirely helpless.

I imagine the first thing Mori did was create the AI for this thing before working on the body, and suddenly, this AI just starts yapping at him from his computer. The android takes on a life of their own. Starts calling themselves "Osamu Dazai." Orginally, Mori was set on creating a feminine-leaning android (his failures with Yosano are still haunting him at this point), but Dazai's like: uh, hell no. I am Osamu Dazai. I am a boy. Fix my body, u stupid doctor. (I love transzai)

Anyway, Dazai helps Mori design the body he wants. It's more androgynous than before, which Dazai enjoys. He's implemented into it shortly after it's finished, and voila, our favorite little bandage boy, is born.

Sure, Dazai isn't exactly what Mori had envisioned when he first started the project. He had imagined something more docile, easier to project his desires onto. But Dazai is what he is, and he won't be changed now. He's here now, and he's here to stay. Very human, despite how he came into this world or how much he denies it.

I may or may not have been influenced by the recent release of the Stormbringer Manga with that last bit. Anyway, Dad Mori is real. He's just not very good at it.

[batheir]

there's a novel long word vomit she could re-spill all over again and again, she furiously wants to, fighting back the terrible urge with everything in her that her petite body can muster. not even marcel proust's world record longest novel could compete with the word count of her rephrase on everything he's done to her tonight to stir up such a reaction out of her like this. "i've said everything i needed to say to you." not her fault he decided to have amnesia, when he was covering his ears up while she's yelling her lungs out prior to this blow up. "mhm." mumbled response comes to his rambling and ridiculous accusations, continuing to stride forward. absurd sounding hearing him claim things such as she 'tried to tear it all down' on purpose. he should have thought about that before he betrayed her just then.

"it feels like i'm talking to someone who isn't listening... you only hear what you want to. you ignore everything i do respond or demean it. i'm exhausted speaking, i'm exhausted with you– after everything you've done tonight and to top it off, being a backstabber. turning it on me, like you just did to your ex-girlfriend. you aren't someone i trust anymore." so much that she's keeping a check on her taser when hand dives under her seat for it when he pops into her car, causing her heart to jump and skip a few beats. "i'm not crying." despite tears sticking to her tanned cheeks, turning her face to stare at her steering wheel. burning a hole through the mustang emblem in the center. "and even if i was, i was crying before all of this." not that she needs to point it out, he remembers. he's just playing ignorant, possibly attempting to cause her more frustration, to provoke another screaming reaction out of her. "i'm going home." to rest her mind, her body, her painful puffy eyes. "i don't want to hear your manipulation tactics any longer." hand lets go of the taser under her seat, jabbing the volume button until it shoots up to eighty, drowning out the sound of his voice with radiohead. creep blasting through the stereo. starting the sports car, helena checks the road before the tires slowly move out of the space. warm mocha eyes typically iridescent in shades of optimism and bubbliness, now only enchanted by gloom as she blankly stares at the street. hollow– apparently like alex's heart.

alex catches up to helena just as she’s climbing into her car,  his breath fogging in the cold air,  anger tightening every muscle in his body,  but seeing her tear-streaked face cools his rage a little bit.   he doesn’t care about her assumptions or her misplaced righteousness,  and he genuinely doesn’t take any pleasure in hurting other people’s feelings,  but god…   why is she crying when she’s the one who started it all?   “helena,  stop!   you had plenty to say just a few minutes ago,  why won’t you talk to me now?”   his voice comes out sharp,  and he doesn’t bother softening it.   “you think you know everything,  don’t you?   you think you’ve got it all figured out,  but you don’t know me,  and you definitely don’t know what’s been happening between poppy and i.   and yet you just couldn’t wait to tear it all down.   why?”   he runs a hand through his hair,  the cold biting at his fingers.   he hesitates,  but then reaches for the door handle anyway,  slipping back into the passenger’s seat.   he hates giving up control and thinks she might kill them,  after all,  but what does he have to lose?   “what did you think you’d gain from this?   you could’ve talked to me,  asked questions,  anything before lighting that match and watching my whole relationship go up in flames.”   he shakes his head,  exhaling sharply.   “maybe i messed up,  okay?   but you don’t get to act like you’re the one holding the moral high ground.   you crossed a line.   and i’m not going to let you walk away thinking you’re justified in what you did.”   he watches her,  knowing nothing he says will change her mind.   he’s the bad guy in her story now.   “what are you crying for,  anyway?   you’ve got what you wanted.”