#at the time it's understandable and wasn't as much about whiteness but searching for a new identity post an insular culture

[breadvidence]

" [. . .] il se sentait je ne sais quel fond de rigidité, de régularité et de probité, compliqué d'une inexprimable haine pour cette race de bohèmes dont il était." [LM I.V.V]

What did Hugo mean by this phrase? This is a question with a clear answer, in my opinion. Also in my opinion, this does and doesn't matter: it matters to understanding how Les Mis engages (or fails to) with the literary tradition of race and ethnicity in Europe through Javert, and it doesn't because most of my readers here are bent fannish in their style and do as much enriching of the text as reading of it. What I'm saying is: Javert is not a Romani man in the Brick, but there's no damage to making him one in your fanwork.

Hapgood translates this line as " [ . . . ] he was conscious of an indescribable foundation of rigidity, regularity, and probity, complicated with an inexpressible hatred for the race of bohemians whence he was sprung"; Donougher has it as " [ . . . ] he was conscious of some underlying inflexibility, steadiness and probity within him, compounded by an inexpressible hatred for that gypsy race to which he belonged."

So, bohème: at the time, you have this idea that the Romani people in France came from Bohemia, from which also bohémien, right? And because white Europeans had (and have) a complex, hateful relationship with the Romani people, caught up in exoticization and prejudice and xenophobia, unsure whether they were (or are) more enamored of the idea of free travel and "unconventional" lifeways (from which the entire "Bohemian" art movement) or repelled by stereotypes of criminality (for which see the modern American slur-derived phrase "to gyp"), by the 19th century the word is tied up in complex dual set of associations and is so frequently used in those two-steps-removed senses from the ethnic group it initially described that you can't in any specific case know which of those three meanings is intended without context cues. This is why we have Magloire relate the people of Digne calling Valjean a bohémien--in this case, this means "criminal, itinerant", not "Romani". In contrast, when in I.III.IV we are told "toute une bohème de papillons s'ébattait dans les achillées", these aren't Romani butterflies or imports from Bohemia, the intent is to evoke that positive (so to speak) set of associations.

What cues do we have here that point to the derogatory meaning rather than ethnic?

Within the chapter itself, Javert's hatred is elaborated on as "la haine de la rébellion", where rebellion is crime: this use of la haine, to my reading, is the same la haine as referred to in the earlier sentence, and the phrase "tout ce qui avait franchi une fois le seuil légal du mal" describes the same people as "race de bohèmes". In the header quote for this post, Hugo describes Javert's perception of himself; in this later section, the narrator elaborates and confirms the point. There's no ethnic specificity in the narrator's phrasing. Further, when we get to which class of criminals are particularly terrified by Javert, we're told it's the "gens sans aveu", rendered by Hapgood and Donougher as vagrants: an itinerant class associated with criminality; the point isn't re-iterated that he shows particular antipathy or suspicion of an ethnic group, but of a specific criminalized class.

Hugo never mentions it again. For how Hugo talks about Romani characters, we quite helpfully have Notre-Dame de Paris, and when I say that he cannot fucking stop talking about Esmeralda being la bohémienne, l'égyptienne, fille bohème: he cannot. A search for these word pulls up hundreds of hits for the novel. It's more than central to her character, it's central to how the narration refers to her, and it's key to how she's conceived of bodily and in temperament. Now: you could write Javert as so vigorously working against what it means to be a bohémien that none of these come into play in the narration, or that he wasn't raised in that culture and thus doesn't have any of those influences on his attitudes or habits, but (1) this is not present in the text (2) the reading "his mother is Romani, but this has so little impact on him outside racial hatred that it never comes up again" doesn't really do it for me (3) I would be surprised if Victor Hugo could parse the idea of being ethnically Romani and not temperamentally Romani.

While race and ethnicity are obviously an inextricable part of societal power structures, Les Misérables? It barely fuckin' cares about that (and to be quite honest I'm glad Hugo didn't try harder than his sort of confused gesturing with Thénardier's slave-trading in the end; he's not the man for the job). Javert's character is centrally about Law as an artificial, immoral tool that maintains a bourgeois power structure to the detriment of Society as a whole and the misérables in particular: introducing the question of race/ethnicity alters that one-note to the point of needing to be nested in a different novel. The topic of criminality and race is a whole fucking rodeo, and if it would be an interesting addition to the concept of "society does not include criminals; criminals are a class you can become by committing crime; criminality is an ambiguously heritable trait" that's going on here, it's not in the text. The fact that the idea of criminality as heritable has faded in our culture (it's certainly no longer considered scientific or acceptable to be explicit about, in any case) means that Javert's focus on the idea of being somehow constitutionally impacted by the crimes of his parents reads a bit through modern eyes as racial, but in my opinion that's crossing two streams that are related but not in fact identical.

A minor point, and one I'm less confident of, but: Donougher's use of the slur with a lowercase g feels sharp, precise, and deliberate in this context, particularly given she's European. In my experience, Americans tend to be far less sensitive to it--hell, I've got a friend of a friend who named her tortoise G****. Our racial hatreds focus elsewhere. The implication, here, feels the same as the blanket use of the n-word to refer to anyone dark-skinned. It's a matter of denigration, not a way to identify someone's ethnic/racial background.

Again: fanwork exploring what it would mean for Javert to be a person of color is both a fair place for the fandom to have hared off to based on the multiple meanings of the word bohème and a deeply intuitive step to take given how race and criminality are intertwined in the modern consciousness. What there isn't is textual support for the idea.

[multch]

Thoughts.

Art the clown x reader [18+]

CW: actually smut \ afab masterbation

Your boss admires your dedication to staying back late to finish off repairing most nights. What he doesn't know is affiliation with the ‘Miles County Killer’.

Who knew sewing pays in a good view…

You whipped back as the bloody black and white suit whacked you in the face. If art was anything- it certainly wasn't subtle. The smell was revolting but what did you expect? Daisies? Of course he’d smell like a dead animal, he’s a murderer for Christ's sake! Still, you would've appreciated it if he at least let you set down the jacket you had to repair first- or had the decency to cover up a little instead of walking around the studio with everything out on display.

Tonight marks the 3rd year since you had first encountered this killer clown. You worked at a humble costume shop- Often very late to scramble enough of a paycheck to pay rent, utilities, whatever, ect.

On the strange night you two met, he had walked in- completely skipping past you- and searched for some sewing supplies. He went so far as to have even checked out the staff room you had accidentally left unlocked. Regardless, he eventually waddled up to your counter and dinged the bell on your desk several times. He had waved his hands around like a maniac trying to make sense until you realised he was gesturing towards the sewing needle in your hand. If he wasn’t so charming, maybe you would’ve called the police on him right then and there.

Maybe you should’ve...

Since then, you always patched up his ripped and tattered clown costume and he would repay you by helping out around the shop when you worked late. Repairing shelves, moving boxes and pestering you incessantly while doing so. 

It was a shock when you had first discovered his more malicious side. The ”Miles county killer” plastered on every television screen for miles. You couldn’t tell what had scared you more; Art’s heinous acts or the simple fact that he seemed to spare you.

But why?

The question haunted you. Your moral compass never seemed too correct however you understood the evil that seemed to possess him was devilish. What you couldn’t understand was what a being so sinful could've thought about a seamstress that made him show not only mercy, but companionship…

Honk! Honk!

Art could’ve killed you with how well he’d scare you. They didn’t call him the ‘Terrifier’ for nothing you thought. You were just minding your business- lost in thought- until Art practically made you jump out of your skin from his infuriating infatuation with his stupid little hand horn.

He had crept right up behind you and placed himself close enough to feel the cold air escape his lungs. You didn’t know how you didn’t notice but his horn was practically touching your ear. The sound it let out was more than enough to make your eyes widen. It had startled you so much you fell backwards on your stool. Luckily for you though, Art was there to catch you.

His skin was smooth and frigid. His hands having responded by grasping your waist with his rough hands- You were accidentally pressed right up against his naked chest. 

His touch felt electric. The contrast between your human heat and his icy exposure was a feeling like no other. He helped you back up onto your seat but by then it was too late. Fuck.

Seeing him naked was one thing but feeling his bare touch was another. Your minor interest in him had easily turned into obsession over the course of the last few years. A mysterious stranger showing up out of the blue. Saturated in blood. Torn up and often mutilated.  How couldn't you be intrigued?

It felt like there was no one else in the world he treated like you.

You felt special.

Protected, even.

You tried your best to resume your repair but by the time you reached the hole by the gusset of his suit, you had lost it.

*

Maybe excusing yourself to “go to the bathroom” might’ve been a bit overkill but there was no way you wouldn’t melt in the heat that you felt just simply looking at him. His playful taunts. The way he bats his eyelashes at you. Even his disgusting black smile!

These ‘normal’ acts of his felt misconstrued into one big flirty mess. 

Despite your efforts, you were clearly just too horny to stop. Every time you think about him in this moment, you couldn’t help but remember how he’s outside right now in nothing but a mask and his flimsy little top hat. In times like this, you couldn’t help but shake your fist in the air at Art’s infamous refusal to wear anything under his suit.

(You tried to convince him once by buying him a pair of boxers, but in retaliation he had ripped out the crotch and walked out- giving you the full view of his “pencil”)

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation talking but deciding to work one out sounded great right now.

You lent up against the red tile wall of the staff bathroom. It was cold. Perfect.

Slowly fondling yourself, your hands snake around your skin. One climbing up your stomach to slip under your bra. The other sneaking down the waistband of your shorts.

God, he made you so wet from just one touch. You slid in one finger first- wincing back at your contraction around so little. It made you only more hungry for what your eyes had feasted on so often yet you had never been given the chance to taste it yourself.

Seeing it made you understand why this clown always went commando because he really was hiding away a whole balloon animal. It was BIG.

Imagining it made your mouth feel empty..

You slip in another 2 fingers. Thrusting into yourself enough to make you press hard against the wall behind you. You were so cold but inside was a warmth you wanted him to feel so badly.

Your eyes squeezed down hard. You wanted to see him. His face. His body, as he thrusted into you.

You wanted him to trap you beneath his form with his inhuman strength.

To be scared he'd rip you in half if you ran away was a major turn on for you -the idea of becoming less than a victim of his by becoming a slave for his enjoyment.

Imagining it made your pussy throb, feeling empty despite your aggressive movement…

You tried to muffle your moans but the more you indulged in your fantasy, the more you struggled to show some self restraint.

A fourth finger, then a fifth.

Pounding harder and faster into your core, you thought back to all the toys you brought reimagining them as his girth. 

Art was more than a friend to you. You ached for him nightly. You felt him in your core. You've dreamt of his touch and woken up in a hot, sticky sweat because of him.

You wanted to be honest with him but only Hell knows what he'd do to you if he didn't feel the same.

The possibilities made you salivate. Being his victim would be an indulgent death for sure..

You feel yourself very quickly feeling your release build as an air of tension fills the room. It's sickly sweet.

Rubbing your pretty little pussy until it's puffy and squirting when he's in the room outside was your tipping point.

You let out one final wince before your knees give out- causing you to crouch down on the frozen tile floor. 

You can't help but imagine it's him holding you after a scene of absolute passion.

*

It's only been 10 minutes since you had excused yourself but once you had made your way back out, Art was nowhere to be seen.

You're embarrassed to say the least but you decide to push forward with your plans for tonight. 

You turn around to close the bathroom door behind you only to find a familiar face greeting you instead.

There stood Art the clown, leaning up against the wall with a shit eating grin- All while still being fully naked.

Oh god no…

[brick-van-dyke]

Yeah, no, Jews are already killed by Zionists and have been killed by Zionists. There has been more revulsion towards Jews who are anti-Zionist or simply who don't recognise Israel as part of their faith than any pro Palestinian I've ever met, especially seeing as many of the pro Palestinian protesters I've met ARE Jewish.

In the 1920s, Zionists attacked Jews and Arabs indiscriminately in Palestine, as well as in the Nakba of 1948 which has not only been recorded but echoed by many survivors (the latest whose testimony I heard a few days ago in Canberra, the great-grandmother now spoke and told us how her Jewish neighbours in Palestine were killed by the Zionist military group that attacked her village). It's why I say it's so important to understand Israel's history, not by the government or official manuscripts taught in Israel, but by those who were there when Zionists killed Jews alongside the Christians and Muslims, or even targeted Jews like Jacob Israël de Haan.

Historically, again, it is the left who have defended Jews, the socialist French Revolution for example being the first push for recognising Jews as equal citizens in France, then Karl Marx who backed Jewish Zionists at the time. There is a complex history when it comes to allies; Muslims have both defended Jews out of a sense of comradery due to how similar their religious practices tend to be compared to Christians who are the most different and the primary belief used by the Romans and European powers (such as France during the crusade) to persecute Jews, meanwhile certain Muslim majority nations like the Ottoman Empire forced conversions to Islam out of force. Meanwhile, many Muslim rules countries before the Ottomans had a strong connection to the Jews in their countries where they were given equal opportunities as Muslims in these nations. Modern (post Ottomans) Palestine itself had a similar solidarity between indigenous Jews (before European Jews settled) and Muslims having strong solidarity and a community built out of the Ottoman Empire post its fall, meanwhile Zionist Jews pushing for a separate economy and state with the backing of Europe in the 1920s (which would lead to the Arab Revolt) often dominates this discussion despite the solidarity existing beforehand. Overall, there's been a lot of historic solidarity with the left when it comes to Jews, as well as a mixed relationship between Arabs due to the ruling powers and depending on the political alignment. It's more modern Zionism that has led to this divide which, again, uses propaganda and history denialism to back it and push "weak Jew" or "self hating Jew" if they go against the Zionist political agenda.

Understanding this history of solidarity and support, as well as Israel's political history itself, really highlights how much Jewishness is defined by far more than the nationalist political identity that Israel (and Zionism) has assigned it through westernised expansionism and militarisation (which uses the Roman Empire, Europe and specifically Germany as a reference).

https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780197623589.003.0005

Unfortunately, you may need to have a university login to access the full article, but I could try and get a pdf if anyone wants the full thing? Here's the abstract for now:

"This chapter examines how Israel wrestled with the legacy of the Holocaust over time. In so doing, it theorizes a variant of trauma-based identity called victimhood nationalism, which refers to political leaders’ strategic redirection of grievances. It applies this new concept to Israeli prime minister David Ben-Gurion’s re-narration of Israel’s foundational collective trauma according to his government’s priorities during the 1961 trial of former high-ranking Nazi Adolf Eichmann. Ben-Gurion strategically directed grievances away from Germany, with which he had pursued a rapprochement, and toward Israel’s Arab adversaries, whom he portrayed as the leading forces of global anti-Semitism in the decades following the fall of the Third Reich. This victimhood nationalism had a lasting impact on Israel’s international orientation, helping to integrate hundreds of thousands of Jewish immigrants from the Arab world while also framing security discourses in the lead-up to the 1967 Six-Day War."

There are many other sources, especially those that analyse the case of Eichmann, that go into Israel's usage of propaganda to divert blame towards Germany and Europe's complicity in the holocaust and uses "Arab colonisation" as a reason instead, which also holds little evidence (unless you use Iran, which tbh has nothing to do with Arabs or Muslims but an imperialist government type, just like how the US, China and Russia are imperialists and Japan was an imperialist nation during WW2). The resistance of expansion into pre-existing territories are used as a reason, but this is very obviously a bad faith arguments based on the almost "self fulfilling prophecy" mentality of "if I attack first and they attack back they are evil" as a reason to justify preemptive punishment.

TLDR; yeah, no... If we're talking about hatred towards Jews? That's not existent in any of the pro Palestine spaces I've ever been to, and have actively been welcoming of Jews. The only hatred I've seen are from refugees who are actually scared of Jews because of Zionism and the war crimes them and their families have been subjected to. Which...isn't about Jews, it's about the war crimes and the fear that instills which very quickly can become anger and hate towards those who hurt you. Even then, that's a minority, most Palestinian refugees I've met are extremely hospitable to Jews and welcome them in their spaces. They're obviously scared and don't like Zionists who say "death to Arabs" when they are Arab, for very obvious reasons. Even the chants, all of them are about land back to the way it was pre Israel; aka no Zionism or ethnic states that prioritise one racial group over another; meaning Jews and Arabs are treated as equal and that ethnicity plays no part in existing on the land. Which is directly at odds with Zionism which claims "Greater Israel must belong solely to the Jews" and even that becomes messy when it comes to Christians, Muslims, atheists, etc. with Jewish ancestry and Jews who don't recognise the state of Israel in their faith/ beliefs irrespective of the political ideology of Zionism.

Further readings:

https://www.historytoday.com/archive/feature/herzls-troubled-dream-origins-zionism

https://assets.press.princeton.edu/chapters/p10098.pdf

https://crossculturalsolidarity.com/examples-of-jewish-muslim-solidarity-in-world-history/

I don't believe to be possible because leftists can't even cooperate building a Lego, but if this "Glorious Revolution" ever happens, I guarantee you guys that they will commission a genocide against Jews. They will disguise it as "antizionist dismantlement," but they will target every Jew and its institution that gets even a whiff of "zionism." Anf because they associated anything Jewish with Zionism, they go will after everybody.

[ashtheketchum]

● Bad girl ●

Daryl Dixon X FEM.Reader

Era: Season 2, farm

Summary: Daryl had been badly injured while searching for Sophia and your daddy had ordered Daryl to stay overnight in your house. The archer had his own room with a bed and you took care of his wounds. But one time you had sneaked a peek into his room while he was jerking off and he caught you.

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, FEMALE Reader, spanking, fingering, AGE GAP (Daryl is in his late 30s, Reader is 20 years old), teasing, perv Daryl, masturbate, Reader watches Daryl masturbating

Words: 2.5k

Masterlist!

___________________________________

PoV (Y/N):

The world was ending and, as my daddy would call it, "sick" people were running around. But suddenly a group of survivors came to us and they brought an injured boy to us. Apparently Otis had shot him and another girl was missing. My daddy took care of the injured boy and meanwhile the survivors were allowed to live with us in the front yard. They were not allowed to enter our house except for Rick and Lori, the parents of the injured boy.

I was the middle daughter of the Greenes. Maggie was my older sister and Beth was my younger sister, but I still wasn't allowed to do much with the survivors. It kind of annoyed me, but I could understand my daddy, after all we didn't know these survivors. But one survivor seemed very interesting to me. I think his name was Daryl, but I didn't see him very often. He looked for the missing little girl every day and only came back late at night. Inside, I already gave up hope of getting to know him better, but one day I got my chance.

One day Daryl came back badly wounded and he had also been shot by Andrea. Apparently he had also received one of his arrows in his side. My daddy took care of his wounds and now he had to lie in our guest room. While my daddy took care of his wounds, I brought him food and towels to wash himself with.

But while I was with him, I hardly spoke to him. I came in with a "Hello" and left with a "Ask if you need anything.". But not because I was afraid or because I didn't want to talk to him, I just didn't dare. Even though he sometimes looked at me with a non-grumpy expression on his face, I didn't dare say more. But it didn't seem to bother him, he actually seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet. But I really wanted to talk to him.

But today I wanted to do it differently. I had some food in my hands for Daryl and I was about to knock on his door when I suddenly heard a soft moan coming from his room. At first I thought he was moaning because of the pain, so I quietly opened the door so it was ajar. I quietly looked in to see if Daryl was really moaning because of the pain. But when I saw why he was really moaning, I turned bright red and my cunt started to throb and tingle.

Daryl had his back turned to me, I could see his bare back, which was covered in scars. I had noticed these scars many times, even though he constantly tried to hide them. Sometimes I had to come into his room when he was sleeping to bring him new clothes or leave his food there. My eyes sometimes fell on his broad back and, accordingly, on his scars.

Daryl's right arm moved up and down very quickly, while in his other hand he held a white cloth. He pressed it close to his face, probably to muffle his noises. Although I didn't have much experience with sexual things, I knew enough to know that Daryl was jerking himself off. Although I couldn't see anything, his noises were enough to make my panties wet. I put the food I wanted to bring him on the floor and then my hand wandered between my legs, under my skirt. I slowly pressed my middle finger against my clit, through my panties, and a quiet gasp escaped me. I did my best to be quiet, since everyone was still near the house. Not inside the house, but close. And Daryl was still behind the door.

The sound of skin slapping against each other became faster and faster and Daryl's breathing became faster too. As his hand moved faster, my movements on my clit also became much more faster. I closed my eyes, completely lost in the feeling of masturbation. My panties became wetter and wetter and my legs began to shake while I wished and imagined Daryl was moaning my name. My legs eventually gave up and I slowly knelt on the floor. On the other hand, I could briefly hear Daryl moaning very loudly before I heard nothing more. But I couldn't stop touching myself and imagining Daryl moaning my name, his rough fingers massaging my clit and stroking my skin. With my eyes closed, I gasped a little louder, his name also escaped my lips sometimes.

God, I was so lost in thought that I actually heard him say my name. "(Y/N)?… Hey…" But soon I was surprised by reality when I felt a rough hand on my shoulder. I immediately jumped and looked up at Daryl, his cheeks bright red. He looked at me confused and a little annoyed and I already knew that he knew what I had just done. But he also seemed uncomfortable, because his cheeks were bright red and his hands were shaking slightly. Maybe this was just the aftereffects of masturbating. "D-daryl…!?" Shocked, I pulled my hand away from between my legs and looked at his plate, which was next to me. The food had probably gone cold by now.

"I-i…! I can explain…!" I stuttered harshly, while I held my hand that had been satisfying my clit until recently. My fingertips shone slightly from my arousal seeping through my panties. But I didn't want Daryl to see them, even though he probably already knew what I was doing.

The archer remained silent, he just looked between my legs. There was something sparkling in his blue eyes before he turned around and looked down at me. At first I was afraid he would tell my daddy and I would get into so much trouble. "Come with me." Daryl then said suddenly. Without waiting for my answer, he went into his room and sat down on his bed. Swallowing hard, I got up anyway, taking the plate with me so that no one would get suspicious. Once inside the room, I put the plate on the bedside table and stood in front of Daryl. He looked down briefly before looking up at me, I couldn't even read his expression. "Ya were watchin' me, righ´?" He asked suddenly.

I didn't think it was possible, but my face turned even redder than it had been before. Swallowing hard, I looked down at the floor, feeling incredibly uncomfortable that he was now confronting me like this. The last time I had felt so pathetic was when Maggie had caught me kissing a picture of my favorite actor at the time. But this situation was a whole new level. But I didn't wanted to lie to Daryl, he was a good man. "Y-yes… I-I'm sorry, I didn't want-!" "Lay over ma lap. Now." His words confused me even more. Had he just told me to lie on his lap so that my butt was in the air? But I didn't contradict him, I just nodded silently.

I moved hesitantly towards him and knelt down on the bed next to him. At first I looked at Daryl quietly to make sure that this was really what he wanted. But his dark blue eyes looked at me stubbornly, as if they were telling me even more forcefully that I should finally lie across his lap. So I nodded slightly before I lay across his lap, my hips now over his thighs and my butt was stretched up a little. "'S yar family in yar house?" He asked as he lifted my skirt. Now I felt completely naked in front of him and my shame grew more and more. Daryl could now not only see my ass, but also my wet panties. "N-no…" I answered his question anyway. "W-why-!? Ah!” I gasped loudly when I felt him slap my left butt cheek.

It wasn't a hard slap, but he wasn't gentle either. It was hard enough to make me gasp and whimper, but not hard enough to hurt me. Another slap, this time on my right ass cheek. Whimpering, I dug my nails into his bed cover that was underneath us. "Yar dirty, ya know tha'?" He suddenly asked. I couldn't even answer his question before he slapped my ass again. I pressed my legs together tightly, even though these slaps hurt somehow, they also aroused me at the same time. I felt myself getting even wetter and my lower abdomen tingled strongly as I felt his slap on my ass again.

Whimpering, I pressed my face into his bed, but this was also a mistake. The bed smelled like him. How could it not smell like him, he was lying in this bed the whole time. Daryl's smell made my eyes roll back slightly and my whimpering turned into a quiet moan. While he slapped my now red skin with his right hand, his left hand held my legs down, as I sometimes lifted them out of reflex. "Dirty girl… ya like tha'?" He asked suddenly. A quiet whimper escaped me again, but I didn't answer him. Yes, I liked it, but I didn't want to admit it. Daryl remained silent for a while before he lifted some of the fabric of my panties and let it slap against my skin again. "Yar so goddamn wet…" He growled quietly.

Before I could react, Daryl pushed my panties aside, now he could see my wet pussy. "D-daryl…" "Shhh… be quiet." He said, in a stern but at the same time gentle tone. I hadn't known Daryl for long, but I believed and trusted him. It was dumb, yeah. But I didn´t really care. I could have pushed him away at any time, his grip wasn't firm or hurtful. He slowly let his finger slide through my wet folds before he pressed his rough finger against my clit. Panting, I pressed my legs together tighter and whimpered a little louder. For a while, Daryl massaged my clit in circular movements and I kept moaning and whimpering quietly. "D-daryl, please…" My voice came out quietly. At first I thought he hadn't heard me, but when he slid his fingers to my entrance, I got a cold shiver.

"Ya wan' it here?" He then asked, circling his finger around my entrance. Breathing heavily, I nodded slightly before pressing my face into his bed covers. His scent immediately filled my nose again, and he slowly pushed his finger into me. "Fuck, yar tigh'…" Daryl murmured quietly as he slowly began to move his finger. I was wet enough that he could start right away and I didn't feel any pain, it just felt weird. "D-daryl…~! G-god…" I murmured quietly as my grip on his bed covers became tighter and tighter.

Daryl just growled softly before he curled his finger slightly. He gently pressed his fingertip against my wet, tight inner walls and the hairs on my neck stood up. At some point Daryl added a second finger and he moved his fingers much faster now. Moaning, I pushed my ass even further towards him, which made him slap my ass with his other hand. Little tears of excitement came to my eyes, the mixture of his fingers inside me and his slaps on my ass provoked an orgasm in me. My breathing became faster and stronger while my legs trembled more and more. "Ya cumming?" The archer asked as he slapped my ass again.

"Y-yes…! P-please~…!" "Please wha'?" "P-please, make me cum~!" I moaned loudly and trembled even more. Daryl moved his fingers as fast as he could and pressed his fingertips against my special spot, which made me see black for a moment. Daryl slapped my ass once more and hit my special spot once more before I moaned loudly into his bed and came around his fingers. My head was spinning as Daryl slowly pulled his fingers out of me and gently stroked my ass. "'re ya good?" I heard Daryl ask in a soft voice.

Humming, I nodded slightly, but I was still trying to recover from the orgasm. I had touched myself before, but I had never been so overwhelmed by an orgasm, if I ever had one. "Yeah, yeah… I'm good…" I murmured quietly. I lay still for a while, Daryl adjusted my panties a little and pulled my skirt down again so that it covered my ass.

When I finally got myself together, I slowly climbed down from him. My face was still bright red and my legs were shaking a little. Daryl just looked up at me quietly before looking down at his food. "Can we… do this again?" I asked uncertainly and then looked at him. Daryl remained silent for a moment before turning back to me and looking at me again with his unreadable expression. "If ya wan´? Jus´… don´ tell yar old man." A certain joy and hope spread through me, but I didn't show it, I just nodded. Then I left his room again and closed the door behind me.

Somehow everything went a little too fast for me, but I didn't regret it for a second. So I went back to my room with a big grin to change my panties.

PoV Daryl:

I stayed in bed for a while before looking at my fingers, which were still wet from her orgasm. Something stirred in my pants again as I hesitantly put my fingers in my mouth and tasted them. God, she tasted as sweet as she looked. Of course I knew that she had been interested in me for a long time, but I never dared to speak to her properly because of our age difference. But this situation that happened recently made my heart beat faster and I could now dream about it every night. How her pussy wrapped tightly around my fingers, how her ass slowly turned red with every slap and how she moaned my name. God, I was already looking forward to the next time.

[calumfmu]

spread thin

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades-long relationship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie

2.9k+ words

The boy in front of you was beautiful. He was everything that you had pictured in a man, yet nothing of the sort that you imagined yourself to be with. He was handsome, charismatic, funny-- every good thing that could come with a boy.

But he wasn't yours.

Steve was everything and everyones before the label of yours could be applied.

"yn?"

His voice sounded throughout the fluorescent room, it's white walls allowing you to be caught in the midst of your thoughts. You met his eyes, his dark brown searching for clarification in the color of your own.

"Sorry, just..." your hands tightened around the broom, glancing down at the foot of tile you hadn't realized you were sweeping repeatedly for the last ten minutes. "A lot on my mind, graduation and all."

He stood there for a second, nodding as his hands graced the cash register in front of him. He had a hint of something on his face, something you couldn't recognize from his normal expressions. He suddenly shrugged, shaking his head to himself as he paid attention to the machine.

"Well... I'm just about done here," he supplied before closing the drawer. "Whenever you're done, I was thinking that we could head to mine? Movie night, drinks?"

You nodded, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was normal between the two of you. You have been best friends since kindergarten, it was always SteveandYn and YnandSteve.

He smiled back at you, walking around the corner.

"Well, let's get out of here, then." He took the broom from your hands, placing it in its respective supply closet. "I found a copy of that new horror movie on VHS, and you're going to love it."

As you two closed up shop, you made your way through the mall. His car was parked in the back of the lot, giving you ample time to think of what had been plaguing your mind lately. These feelings for Steve hadn't came out of nowhere, they had been building for the last couple of years as he became more popular. King Steve as they called him. You held back the eye roll of the remark, knowing that people didn't understand the true character of the man.

Calling him something like that only emphasized his woman-user ways, but did not touch on the sweetness he had to him. He was painted as a player, someone that did not care about women. Deep down, you knew that wasn't true.

His shoulder bumped into yours, shaking you of your thoughts. Steve opened the passenger door, holding his hand out as he did a faux bow.

"M'lady."

Giggling, you rolled your eyes and settled in the car as he made his way over to the driver's seat. As he got situated and started the vehicle, he glanced over at you.

"What's going on? You've been so... distant lately."

Sighing, you turned your head towards the window.

"'S nothing, Steve."

He pulled out into the main road, leaving the mall further and further into the distance. "You've been so weird, it can't be nothing."

"I'm fine." You smiled through your teeth, covering the true gnawing at your heart that plagues you. He spared a glance in your direction, huffing as he knew you were lying.

"Sure."

The rest of the car ride was quiet, only the sounds of the radio quietly buzzing some song in the background. Steve tapped his fingers to the beat as you focused on the drive in front of you, cars passing as he made his way to his house. With every block, the dim street lights hit your face, exposing more and more of the true emotional state that you were in. It was becoming too much to hide now.

You hadn't noticed as he pulled into his driveway, a dark house with no one home in front of it. Your passenger door suddenly opening startled you.

"Jesus, Steve," you mumbled, getting out as you smoothed down your work uniform. "Give a girl a warning, yeah?"

"Oh, quiet. 'S not like you would've heard it anyways," he had a grumpiness to his voice, something that only confused you even more. What was wrong with him?

You followed him through the front door, lights turning on as he made his way to the kitchen. A beer was placed in your hand, and you looked down to inspect it. The cheap kind, PBR. So it was going to be one of those nights.

Steve loosened the collar of his uniform, letting it hang open as he cracked open his own drink. He was still staring at you, as you leaned against the counter.

"You're really not going to tell me?" His brown eyes were huge at this point, his bottom lip jutting out as he pouted in your direction. "Please, yn?"

You took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage.

"'M just stressed about graduation," you answered, twirling your drink around as you focused on the exposed part of his chest. A tuft of hair poked out there, you imagined what it would feel like between your fingers.

"What about it?"

You broke the focus, walking closer to him so you could take a seat on the counter beside him. He turned his body towards you, forearms leaning on the white tile as he looked up into your eyes. This angle allowed you to see into the deep brown of his irises, the overhead light hitting in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. They were the same eyes you remember from childhood, his long lashes that framed them always so right.

You took another sip of the drink in your hand, thumb playing with the tab at the top of the aluminum. His hand reached out, touching the top of your thigh where your navy blue shorts ended.

Nervousness settled over you as his thumb began to rub small circles on the exposed skin.

"Come on, you could tell me. Anything, remember?"

The look in his eyes and his begging was hard to resist. You had always told Steve your secrets, your worries, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to be.

You sighed, ready to let this burden off of your chest. Now or never, yn, what's the worst that could happen?

"I'm just worried about what's coming next," you said, finishing off your drink this time. The empty can hit the tile next to you, ringing throughout the kitchen. "Things changing, people growing, leaving."

His brow furrowed, confusion crossing hit features. He stood up, settling in closer to you. His eye level was right below yours this time. You could smell his cologne mixed in with the faint smell of ice cream. So enticing, yet you had to ignore it.

"Are you talking about us?" His hand left your thigh, moving to place his hands on either side of your waist. His waist sat in front of your crossed knees, body leaning slightly as he looked into your eyes. Heat settled into your core, your body reacting to the proximity of him between your legs. "You know, nothing's ever going to change between us. We've always been best friends, always will be."

And there it is. The pit of your stomach gnawing as that realization settled over you. Best friends.

A familiar sting hit your eyes as you began to blink it away. You thought you were being inconspicuous, but he noticed.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice was a whisper now as he stepped closer, pushing your thighs apart. His hand reached up to touch the side of your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

Concern was etched all over his features. He searched your eyes for an explanation, his calloused hands rubbing over the delicate skin of your face. He was so close now, you could lean in and kiss him. Feel the true pout of his lips against yours.

"...Steve," you muttered, shaking your head. "I was just hoping tha- you know, what, nevermind."

He was patient, waiting for your words to come out as the two of you sat in silence. Your mind was racing, thoughts of King Steve with a million other girls floating around. Why tell him when he can whoever? You've been friends for years, why would he want to hear this now when there has been years where something could have happened.

"Tell me."

You sighed, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. It was easier to think with them shut, the beautiful boy in front of you no longer being a distraction.

"I was hoping things would stay the same between us," you blurted out. Your heart was racing, word vomit on the tip of your tongue. "Things would stay the same in college, but I know they won't because you're going to be focused on the next interesting person, the next beautiful girl who's not me and is so much better than me."

He didn't answer, but you felt his hand leave the side of your face. The pit at the bottom of your stomach growing more. You kept your eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

You chose to continue, "I just hear everyone talking about King Steve this and King Steve that, and I just can't help but think about how much worse it will be once you're no longer forced to be friends with me."

Suddenly, you felt a mouth on yours, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours quickly. Your eyes flew open, staring at the boy in front of you.

Steve had a smile on his face, eyes drifting over your shocked face. Your mouth opened and close as you find yourself at a loss of words. You found the words, a single syllable escaping your lips before he shushed you.

His hand returned to his cheek as his lips found yours again, moving with a fever that was missing previously. He seemed more urgent, needy in this moment as his hands began to explore your body.

Before you knew it, your legs were opening wider, inviting his body even closer to your core. You felt drunk, despite the single drink running through your veins. It was intoxicating, feeling his mouth against yours and his fingers in your hair.

Is this real life? You couldn't help but think you were imagining it all.

Steve breaks the kiss, fingers dancing at the bottom of your shirt, threatening to lift the hem there.

"Can I-?" He began to lift it as you nodded vehemently, lifting your arms. It came off your frame, exposing you in your white bra. The cool air hit your body, quickly replaced with the heat of his body.

His lips finds your jaw, slopping making his way down your neck. Pants escape your mouth, your vision becoming blurred as his fingers find your waistline. His thumb dipped into the band of your pants, teasing to expose your edge of your panties.

"S-steve, please."

All you saw was a flash of his hair as you were pushed back slightly, the pants beginning to slip down your hips. You adjusted the way you were sitting, allowing Steve the ease to free you of the restriction. He leaned down slightly, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses to your chest bone, hands returning to their residence of your hips.

You placed a hand in his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips. He smiled through the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him even closer as you felt his bulge rub against your heat.

You muttered a fuck as he began to rub against you, cock hard against the restriction of his own pants.

"Want more, baby?" He whispered, hand coming up to grab at your breast, squeezing in all the right places. You threw your head back in ecstacy, hips shooting up to rub against him even further. Your hands found his own waistline, pulling as you struggled to get them off.

"Patience now, my love."

His sweet words made you ache even more, grinding your heat against the shape of his cock. The free hand remaining on your hip moved, brushing over the wet spot you were making in your panties. A small shout escaped you, nerves throbbing at the feeling of his thumb brushing against your clit over the thin cloth.

You looked at him, all his glory as he stared hungrily down at your panties. This thumb was brushing over your clit through your underwear, watching as the wet spot increased.

"Is it that, baby," he breathed, glancing up at your spent face. Nodding, you spread your legs further, mewling as his index finger dipped them to the side. He brushed over your fluttering hole, paying attention to the way you arched your back.

Eyes closing involuntarily, your breath hitched as you felt his two of his fingers playing at your entrance. Your thoughts jumbled, focusing only on the feeling of his digits slowly pushing in. You mewled, white heat crossing over your body as they pushed in further, beginning to slowly pumping in and out of you.

"Fuck Steve, m-more." You couldn't hold back anymore, your hand reached up to grab his at your breast. Blinking your eyes slowly, you stared into his hooded ones, watching as he removed himself from you. He fumbled at his waistline, pushing his pants low enough to free his cock, swollen and dripping with need.

You reached out to it, pulling him closer. Your lips met again, a desperate connection of the moment as his fingers rake through your hair. He tasted like spearmint and the remnants of his beer, breath heavy against yours as his cock rubbed against your center.

He pushed your white panties to the side, his cock in hand as it rubbed against your wet entrance. You couldn't get enough, arching your hips so you could feel him closer, hard and firm.

He guided himself within you, stretching you wide. You couldn't tell if it was him or you at this point, throbbing with desperation as your hips bucked wanting to feel him closer.

Steve stopped at the hilt, hips flush against yours as your legs locked behind his thighs.

"Good?" He asked, breath heavy at this point and words incoherent. He went back and forth between squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stare into yours. Your tightness throbbed around him, clouding his thoughts with the feeling of wanting to take you fast and rough.

"Yes, baby, more."

You pulled him even closer to you, the hook of your ankle rubbing against his pants bunched up at his thigh. Only now did you realize, he was still wearing his uniform, wrinkled and bunched up, exposing only his groin and the bottom of his stomach. The desperation of this moment fueling him to see you in your glory, wanting to have access to you as fast as possible. You watched as he reared his hips back only to push into you once more, slowly but feverish in their movement.

He began to roll his hips, urging moans and pants out of your mouth. He kisses them away, swallowing them as you become louder with each thrust of his hips. The pleasure fills your body, drawing you closer and closer towards that breaking point as his hips continue.

His hands are at your hips, fingers gripping your ass as you sit on the counter, sliding back and forth with each movement he makes. His nails leave little half moon marks as his knuckles grow white, fucking into you relentlessly.

Ah, fuck and yes, baby and you like that escapes his mouth, mouth agape as he watches you unfold in his grasp.

You're almost pissed off at him, at yourself, for not doing this sooner. But the thought escapes your mind, the feeling of euphoria dripping over you as he brushes over something deep inside you. Shock waves took over you as a white heat came over you, exploding and tingling throughout your spine.

Your mind was clouded as you rode through the shock waves, pulsing around him as he thrusted deeper, closer towards his own peak. A low, guttural noise escaped him as you felt him release deep inside. His chest heaves as he rides through it, burying his face into your shoulder. A bite mark was left in its place, the feeling of stickiness between your thighs as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a small moan.

He brushed over your slit one more time, over stimulation coursing through you with a small yelp.

Steve's face was buried into your shoulder, nipping and kissing at the bitten skin there as the two of you struggled to catch your breath. His skin was slightly damp from the high, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"Can I tell you something, yn?" His voice was in a whisper.

You nodded, losing all words. He chuckled, leaning his head back so he could look you in your eyes.

"I knew you felt that way," he supplied, coy smile on his face. Your eyes widened as you hit his chest, laugh erupting out of him. "I felt the same."

"Steve!"

"I was just waiting for you to make the first move. I can't be King Steve when I'm with you."

[midnightbluebells03]

Abby coming home to you after awhile apart because of a business trip or a long patrol

I'LL CRAWL HOME TO HER

CW - fingering (R receiving), mentions of blood/death

WC - 1.6k

I saw Hozier live and work song is so Abby Anderson coded I just had to

Leave me any Ellie or Abby requests x

Patrol.

A six letter word that made your jaw tighten and your grip white knuckle against your palm. Indents from your nails in your skin when you finally let your fists relax for a second.

It had been months. Scratch that years since you started dating Abby. Top scar killer, built like an ox, a human tank in the eyes of the WLF. An unstoppable solider, who's hands have done unspeakable things.

But to you? That's your baby. A soft girl who let's her blonde her cascade down freckled shoulders as you massage her scalp. Someone who babbles about her coin collection for hours while her fingers trace each engraving. The girl who kisses your forehead in the morning and sneaks you back trinkets from her patrol.

Patrol.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in the quiant space you and Abby shared you can't help how your leg is bouncing. Fingers fidgeting as you try to steady your breathing. Her group was supposed to be back hours ago. Nothing more than a standard search, an easy day in Abby's own words when she had rushed out this morning. Yet here you are, lip caught between unforgiving teeth as your mind runs a mile a minute.

What if she was hurt?

What if she was dead?

You shoot anxious glances towards the door every so often like you could manifest her presence. And sure enough after what felt like forevwr the handle turns. In walking a roughed up Abby sporting a new bandage wrapped around her bicep as she rubs the back of her next with a deep sigh. Your feet work before she can even mutter an apology, rushing to wrap your arms around her waist like you could crawl into her ribs. Her fingers run through your hair as her chin rests on your head.

"Sorry baby" you can hear the exhaustion in her voice. The slight rasp from a day of yelling that makes you frown. "Scars"

You hum in response, face buried in her chest as you rub circles into the small of her back through the fabric of her muscle tee. Abby knows the routine, knows how badly you just need her to be with you. So taking careful steps forwards she leads you towards the bed, picking you up while bwing careful of her arm before sitting herself down on the sheets. Keeping you settled firmly on her lap with your face in her neck. You pepper kisses along the skin you can reach like you could ease the pain her body carries, and she swears you can.

"What'd you do today?" She whispers softly hands playing with the hem of your shirt, that's really her shirt. Incasing you in faded black fabric. Underneath you only have on your panties, your sleep shorts sitting in the washing basket since you were too distracted by Abby's absence to do laundry. "Dogs all good?". There wasn't a single time in your whole relationship where Abby hadn't asked how your day was, and on the days you beat her too it she would insist you go first.

"Mhmm" you forcefully pull yourself from her neck to look into the steel blue eyes you want to drown in. Placing a peck onto Abby's nose. "Alice misses you"

She gives you a soft smile before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Sure she does baby" brushing a few stray hairs out your face before her palm settles on your cheek. Thumb stroking over the skin gently. "I'll come see you two tomorrow before I go out okay?"

You give her a soft smile before your eyes wander down to her arm. Looking at the tight bandage around her bicep and swallowing hard before whispering. "How...how was patrol?"

She knows you wouldn't judge her. That you understand she isn't some kind of monster, that the world around you didn't allow for much morals. For much innocence. But sometimes you catch her in the bathroom. Staring at her blood soaked hands like she's disgusted with herself.

"Don't wanna talk about it" her other hand slowly creeps under your shirt, calloused fingers grazing across the skin on the small of your back. "Just want you" Abby leans in and her lips brush against your jaw before she starts to trail kisses down your neck. Pressure increasing as she reaches the spot just above the collar of your shirt.

You bite your lip, tilting your head back slightly but whispering softly. "Abs you gotta sleep". You don't really want her to stop, the way your hand moves to the nape of her necks show her. Your fingers practically itching to wrap around her braid. But you try to be the reasonable one here. Try.

"Please?" Her voice is warm against your skin. A gentle nip of her teeth making you jump slightly. "Always sleep better after"

"Abs" You know you should tell her to sleep, tell her that taking care of herself should come first. But when she pulls the collar of your shirt down to suck a hickey into your collarbone you cant help but moan. "F-fuck" with a wet pop Abby releases the skin, rubbing over the purple mark with her fingers before looking at you with pleading eyes. Eyes you've never been able to turn down before. "Okay but-". You don't get the chance to finish before Abby has moved you. Making you lie on your back as she positions herself between your legs. "Abby!"

"But I need to promise that I'll go to sleep right after and take care of myself tomorrow" she gives you a cocky grin as she pushes the shirt up until your chest is exposed. "I know the drill baby don't worry". With a wink that makes you roll your eyes Abby leans down, kissing across the plush of your breasts until her mouth lands on your nipple. Swirling her tounge around the hard bud as your back arches into her. She takes her time moving herself between each breast until you're biting your lip so hard trying to suppress your whimpers that you can taste blood. When Abby releases your nipple she frowns slightly at the sight of your puffy lip. Brushing her thumb across it. "I know you gotta be quiet baby but don't hurt yourself"

"Easy for you to say" you pout softly before Abby takes the hem of your shirt and hovers it above your mouth. Letting you take the fabric inbetween your teeth to try and muffle yourself. She smiles as you comply and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Good girl" Abby trails her hand down your stomach slowly until she reaches your panties. Pulling them down when you lift your hips and placing them to the side. Her fingers run through your wet folds and she moans softly. "God" her spare hand rests on your inner thigh, keeping you spread for her as she toys with your clit slowly. "Always so needy for me huh baby?"

You try to respond but it's barely audible through the fabric so you just nod. Eyes rolling back slightly as she applies more pressure to your clit. Making your hips jerk up in response. Abby hums as her mouth finds its way back to your chest, peppering a soft trail of kisses all over your body. She was always so gentle with you, like she was afraid you'd break.

The room is still apart from the faint moans coming from your lips and the slight creaking of the worn out bed under you. And for a minute it feels like the world isn't so bad.

Because Abby's got you.

You grip onto her wrist as you feel yourself nearing the edge, squeezing hard and earing a groan in response. Abby leans into your ear so she can whisper sweetly. "Missed you" her hand leaves your clit and you drop the tshirt from your teeth. Before you can complain her fingers are circling your dripping hole. "Missed you so fucking much" she mumbles softly. Pushing in slowly as you eyes flutter shut at the stretch. "Never gonna get sick of coming home to you yknow that right?" Before you can answer she starts pumping in and out. Only making soft moans spill from your lips instead of conherant sentences. "Don't care if it's infected, scars or even other WLFs, nothing-" she moves her fingers harder. Like she's trying to drive the point home as her fingers curl against that spot that makes your eyes water. "Nothing is going to stop me from coming back okay?"

You can't do anything but nod as your fingers find their way into the base of her braid. Tugging gently as you struggle to keep your eyes open. "A-Abby-"

"Sshhh" she kisses your forehead grntly as her fingers keep their pace, coxing you to your climax as she whispers "I've got you baby, give it to me"

You clentch around her thick fingers as you hit your edge hard. Eyes rolling back and your hand still gripping her hair hard while the other clutches the sheets. You whimper as she helps you ride it out, only pulls her fingers away once your breaths even out and yours eyes open slowly. She plops herself down beside you, watching as you regain your head and turn your face towards her.

"I missed you too" your voice is shaky, airy. Filled with more love than you could put into words

Abby smiles before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. She raises her eyebrow at you as her fingers trail back to your clit. You swat at her none injured arm playfully and reach for the lamp on the nightstand.

"Deals a deal Abs you gotta sleep"

She groans and reluctantly stips from her patrol clothes. Not bothering with pyjamas as she crawls under covers. Pulling you into her chest and kissing your head. Its quiet for a few seconds before she whispers. "Round 2 in the morning?"

"Abigail" you say sternly but with a clear smile in your voice.

"Okay, okay...goodnight baby"

Tag list : @lonelylocallesbian @st4rluvrr @boobdrug @thegreatandlvable @icedsimpsayo @madds19zxl @jupiter-502

[theamberfist]

Like Father, Like Child | Alastor + Exorcist! Reader

Familial! Alastor + Exorcist! Adopted Child! Reader

Description: You always had murderous urges, just like your adoptive dad. Of course, you didn't know he had them too; not until the day he died, when you swore to never act on them and end up like him. Now, you're one of Adam's exorcists, about to fight in the battle between heaven and the Hazbin Hotel.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of murder) (gender neutral reader) (reader is Alastor's adopted child from when they were alive) (Part 1 of 4)

Words: 3,317

You awoke to the sound of banging at your door and groaned, knowing it was way too early in the morning to be up. You'd been having a particularly pleasant dream, too, though you couldn't remember what it had been about now. 

Turning over in your bed, you attempted to ignore whoever was out there. Maybe, if you didn't acknowledge them, they would go away and leave you alone?

You were wrong. A few seconds later, the banging continued, making you shove your face deeper into your pillow. "Are you up?" A familiar voice called from the other side of the door but you remained silent. You could hear them huff in exasperation at that. "Come on, don't you know what day it is? Being late would be a really bad idea!"

You rolled your eyes. What could possibly be so important that you had to be up this early for it? This was heaven, after all, so it wasn't like most people didn't respect the fact that you needed your rest. Even if you were late to attend some pressing event, you were sure whoever was running it would be understanding. Everyone here was, except maybe one or two angels you could think of that would probably stab your eye out-

Suddenly, you remembered why today was so important and shot up with wide eyes. Why hadn't your alarm gone off already?

Scrambling across your bed to the little table at its side, you grabbed your phone and opened it to see that you had, in fact, set an alarm. Only, it was for the evening; not the morning. Some help that had been.

"Shit!" You whisper-yelled to yourself as you practically fell out of bed and raced over to your closet to get ready. Luckily, it seemed like the you that had gotten everything ready last night had foreseen this, because your uniform was laid out and ready to go, saving you the time it would have taken to search your closet for it. 

"Oh good, now you're up!" The voice outside called as you hurriedly got dressed and then flew over to your tiny bathroom to finish preparing for the day. You were already running ten minutes late, but maybe if you hurried enough, you could make it just in time. 

As soon as you'd finished getting ready, you raced over to the door with your mask in hand and threw it open, startling the pink and white spider demon girl on the other side. 

"There you are!" She exclaimed with a smile, "I thought I'd never be able to get you out of bed!" You couldn't stay long enough to hear much more of what she had to say though; taking off into flight as you headed down the hall. 

"Can't talk now, sorry Moll's!" You told the winner, feeling a little bad for ditching her like that when she'd been kind enough to ensure you made it to work in time. She seemed to understand though because she nodded, waving goodbye to you as you flew off. You resolved to take her out for ice cream when you finally did get back later in order to make up for this. After all, she seemed to have your back no matter how much you'd always tried to push her away. 

"Good luck, Jez! Tell me all about it when you get back!" You resisted the urge to cringe at her use of that name, though it wasn't her fault that it made you uncomfortable. Even if it was what everyone in heaven had called you for almost as long as you could remember, it had never been yours.

There was no time to think about that, though; you had to make it to work before your boss noticed your tardiness or he would surely take out your eye.

You waved to the people you knew out and about in heaven's streets as you went; of which, there were few since it was so early in the morning. You knew the way to the heaven's gates by heart, so it didn't take long before you saw them in the distance. Panting from flying so fast, you made your way down to where a huge crowd of other angels had gathered in preparation for what was to come today. 

The sight of them was enough to make you nervous but you quickly shook the feeling away, not wanting it to interfere with your job. If you messed up today, you might not be allowed down there again for a while and you weren't sure if your sanity could handle parading around in heaven for that much longer. 

Finally, you landed near the back of the crowd, hoping no one other than the few angels lingering there had seen you arrive. You put on your mask now so you would look more put together and then looked around to see if your boss had shown up yet. Hopefully he hadn't; then he definitely wouldn't have seen you arrive late. 

"Jez, nice of you to finally show the fuck up!" A familiar voice shouted behind you and you instantly deflated. Of course it would have been too much to hope he wasn't here yet. Still, you turned around, glad for the mask covering your face since it meant you didn't have to fake a smile out of politeness. 

"Oh, hi Adam!" You exclaimed and then noticed the other angel standing beside him, "...And Lute."

"You're late." The angel in question said, crossing her arms in disdain. 

"Yeah, so sorry about that!" You exclaimed awkwardly, "I, uh, accidentally slept in this morning! Luckily, Emily came and got me so now I'm here! I promise it won't happen again." You were over apologizing, but knowing these two, it was probably the only thing that would keep you from being too harshly punished for your tardiness. 

"If you weren't such a great asset, Jez, I'd have kicked you out years ago." Adam told you in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"Years." Lute added with a nod as she crossed her arms. 

"You're lucky you hunt down demons like they're fuckin' livestock." Adam continued, "Now, out of my way! I've got some bitches to hype up!" And with that, he pushed past you and through the other angels to get through to the front. 

"You'd better prove your worth today," Lute snarled at you as she followed after him, "This is hardly your first slip-up, and even our patience has its limits." You nodded quickly to get her off your back, but in reality, you were glaring through the mask. 

She headed up to the front and you let yourself melt back into the crowd now, wishing you could punch that smug expression right off her face. At the front, Adam now began his customary hype-speech you'd grown used to hearing before exterminations. 

"Extermination day is here, bitches!" He called, "We're gonna go down and exterminate demon ass!"

"Destroy that ass!" Lute added in agreement. You almost would have wanted to laugh, if you didn't hate those two so much.

"Prepare to slaughter every sinner in that shit hotel!" Adam continued. Now, after having heard what went down in angelic court a while back, you knew where this was going. "And you all remember Vaggie!" 

There it was. You winced at the mention of your old friend, whom you'd assumed had run away back when she disappeared on an extermination day years ago. As it turned out, she'd fallen from heaven and was now dating the daughter of Lucifer herself. You weren't sure how to feel about that news, but you didn't think you could get yourself to hate her for it, either.

Of course, it seemed the rest of the exorcists clearly could, because they all let out loud boo's at the mere mention of her name. 

Lute must have made a particularly unhinged comment about Vaggie because even Adam seemed taken aback now. "Anyway," Adam went on, "Whoever brings me Vaggie's head gets...I don't know, a million heaven bucks! How about that, huh?" The rest of the angels shouted in joy while you contemplated whether or not 'heaven bucks' were a real thing. You didn't think you'd heard of them before...

"Ladies!" Adam said now, gaining your attention once more, "Let's fuck shit up! ATTACK!" And with that, everyone took off flying down towards hell. Despite the fact that you'd done this plenty of times before in the last seven years since you'd become an exorcist, you still felt that familiar nervousness at the idea of going down there.

What if you saw someone you knew from back when you were alive? There were plenty of people you could think of that had likely ended up in hell, and seeing them wouldn't be particularly pleasant. 

 But who were you kidding? There was only one sinner you were truly worried about running into down there. It had never happened in the seven years you'd been killing demons for Adam, but that didn't mean it never would. 

What would you do if you saw him? You couldn't be sure. After everything that had come out about him after his death, you weren't even sure you considered the man a father anymore. But at the same time, did you have the right to shun him when deep down, you were the same way? It felt hypocritical but the betrayal of what he'd once done still clouded your judgement. 

You flew after everyone else now, taking a deep breath as you entered the portal through to hell. You'd done this before, so there was nothing to worry about, you told yourself. Still, there was one fear you couldn't get out of your mind as you flew towards the hotel.

What if you did see your dad, and you weren't strong enough to kill him?

..........

You had always been an...Abnormal child. But then again, what kid wasn't from time to time? You, however, had grown up with urges most people never experienced. They were occasional and you always pushed them out of your mind as soon as they entered, but that didn't mean they weren't there.  

You'd thought you were the odd one out for it; that no one around you ever felt the same way. For the longest time, you'd shunned yourself for it, only to later discover that in your case, it simply meant the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree.

The day you found out your dad was dead had been a shock. The man who had been ever-present in your life since the day he'd adopted you was now gone. But more than that, you'd been appalled to discover the kind of secrets he hid behind closed doors; ones he kept even from you. 

He was a murderer, they'd said. He'd killed and eaten the people that were thought to be missing from your area for years. That psycho killer he'd always used to warn you against staying out late at night? That mysterious figure that was always in the back of people's minds as they went about their lives? That monster who had been the talk of every newspaper in New Orleans for months?

He was your own adoptive father. 

After the shock came the feeling of betrayal. How could he do this? How could the man that had raised you into the person you were today have been such a lie? You'd always looked up to him; always tried to be like him in one way or another to make him proud. 

Why couldn't he have taken a page out of your book for once? It wasn't like you'd never thought of doing those things; like you'd never had the urge to kill too. But unlike your father, apparently, you'd had enough self control to never act on those urges. You'd thought he would consider it wrong; improper, even, if you did, but it seemed now that he never would have minded.

In fact, you might have gained even more of his pride if you'd just given in to your own tendencies. How ironic. 

Even knowing this, though, you never bloodied your hands when you were alive. If you had, it would have felt like you'd given up; like you'd let your dad win. You needed to prove to him, to everyone, that that was not the case. You wouldn't kill, no matter how much you felt that unsatiable itch in the back of your brain. You would prove to him that things didn't have to end up the way they did; that he could have chosen not to act on his wants like you'd been doing this whole time.  

You'd been a teenager at the time of Alastor's death; left alone in the world to fend for yourself as the child of a now-known killer. It had been an immensely lonely existence, which was why you were glad when just a few years into your adulthood, someone finally ended your misery by killing you off themselves in a way that blatantly echoed your father's previous murders. 

You'd expected it, and in the end, you'd been happy to say that you'd succeeded in never acting on your homicidal urges. You'd won in that regard.

Which, you supposed, had been enough to get you into heaven, because the next thing you knew, you were standing in front of the pearly gates being greeted by a peculiar looking man with wings and a halo. Not to mention the fact that you bore those things as well. 

After that, the rest was history. You knew Alastor hadn't ended up in heaven so there was no chance of running into him there. You had no one else that cared for you either in life or death, so you stuck to your own for the most part.

That, and the fact that your urges still hadn't dissipated. Every day, you held back from running all that you'd built here in heaven; stopped yourself from making the unfortunate mistake of killing another angel. You were still proving this point to your dad, you supposed, even after death. 

Even if he never knew about it. 

It took a few years for Adam to catch wind of you due to your reclusiveness, but once he did, he immediately saw the potential in you. 

The adopted child of a famous serial killer, whom had still somehow managed to stay clean enough to end up in heaven after it all? And, on top of that, you had no ties to anyone else in heaven that might hold you back or make you weak. Molly was the only other angel you really got along with, but even then, you'd always held her at arms length, just in case.

It was a backstory fitting of an exorcist, and Adam must have seen that for himself, because he immediately got to work recruiting you for his cause. It had taken a long time, thanks to the promise you'd made to yourself that you still kept up in death about not killing anyone. However, he knew how to appeal to your murderous nature, and eventually, he managed to convince you that killing sinners wouldn't be a breach of that promise; but a necessary way to protect the rest of heaven.

Or at least, that was what you'd told yourself. 

In a way, you knew you'd never believed it. Your dad was down there in hell; you knew he was. Despite everything, you couldn't say killing him wouldn't count as breaking your promise. 

Nonetheless, you trained to become an exorcist. The process was long and grueling, extending over many years. It tested you more than any other experience in your life or afterlife had; stripping away parts of your identity in order to provide you with new ones. Taking away some of that softness; that joy, to bring out your cold-hearted nature more instead. You didn't lose everything in that training, but it was certainly enough to make you harder to recognize by the end.

That was also how you'd gotten the name people now called you by. 

"If they're gonna be one of ours, they need a killer name!" Adam had exclaimed to Lute, who nodded in agreement.

"Right you are, sir." It was customary for him to name all the new exorcists as they began their training; whether they wanted him to or not. 

"Since you're a murderer's kid, ya need a name that sounds wicked as hell," Adam told you with a thoughtful look on his face. You just waited for him to make a decision already; knowing you were going to hate whatever he picked. Your dad had already given you a name you loved as it was; your name. Nothing else could compare to that, even after all that he'd done. "How 'bout Jez?" Adam finally decided, "That sounds pretty rad, and it reminds me of this one hot bitch I used to know. What was her name? Jezebel, or something?" Lute barked a verbal confirmation. 

You cringed at the choice but shrugged anyway. Adam seemed content with that because he took a step closer and slapped you on the back. "Alright, Jez it is. Welcome to the exorcists, bitch!" And with that, he and Lute had flown off, leaving you to come to terms with your new identity. 

..........

You flew towards the hotel with the rest of the angels now; feeling your nerves bubble up in your stomach at the sight of the huge black forcefield encasing it. There were tentacles coming out of the forcefield too that held angelic weapons, and it now dawned on you that that was probably how these sinners had found a way to harm your kind. 

Something about the forcefield felt familiar to you but you pushed the thought away. You didn't have time to worry about it; not when there were demons to take care of. So, when Adam brought the shield down using his own weapon, you flew in and readied your spear just as you had done many times before. 

There were a lot more sinners fighting back than you'd initially expected. Adam had made it seem like the only real threat would be the hotel owned by Lucifer's daughter, but given the huge army outside, that clearly wasn't the case. Where had they gotten so much manpower?

You fought most of them off with ease, noticing how they almost seemed to be...drooling? At the sight of you. It was like they wanted to bite a chunk out of you, and you weren't about to let that happen. 

You flew to higher ground now, breathing heavily from taking out so many of the odd little sinners. There was a distinct feeling of accomplishment somewhere within you but you ignored it; reminding yourself that you were only killing right now in order to protect heaven, not because you enjoyed it.

...Even though you did enjoy it. 

Now that you were higher up, though, you found yourself closer to some of the black tentacles you'd seen before, which extended off a nearby roof and now seemed to be coming your way. 

Gasping in surprise, you brought out your angelic spear to try and defend yourself, only for the tentacles to suddenly stop in front of you, as if their wielder had just realized something. Panting, you glanced to the roof, where a deer-like demon dressed all in red with a few black accents was standing tall. His eyes were fixed on you but they weren't what caught your attention immediately.

He wore a big, yellow smile across his face that you would have recognized anywhere. It sent a chill down your spine as the realization that the exact event you'd always feared was currently coming to pass dawned on you. 

Here you were, levitating above a huge battle between heaven and hell. Here you were, performing your eighth extermination.

And here you were, staring into the eyes of your father, whom you hadn't seen since the day he died. 

..........

Part 2

Part 3

[eu0n1a]

Pls I need more of yandere Izuku!!! I BEG OF YOU!!!! I 100% believe he is stalker material and would have that wall of pictures of you.

yandere prohero izuku breaking into your home (+more Stalking details)

your relationship seemed normal to you, he's your childhood best friend. after graduating UA and quickly rising to the top. you never escaped his mind. he misses you SO MUCH!

i mean you two have spent practically your whole lives together, and now what? nothing? he's so busy now, beating villains bloody, attending national TV interviews. if it's not the work then it's the media not giving him space to breathe. and you barely have time with all the pile of work your professors give you.

he would try his best to maintain contact with you. but everytime the messages would be hours apart. he felt you fading away and it upset him. he hasn't seen you in so long.

so he decides to visit you. issue is during his visit ...

he knows it's late at night. but something caught his eye. around the small space between the curtains and he saw YOU!

"gosh you're so cute," he thinks with heart eyes.

deciding to let himself in.

"best friends let themselves into eachother's houses, right?"

"i just want to turn off the TV, i'm doing her a favor."

taking advantage of the fact it's 3AM. passing through the white picket fence. in your backyard he opened the back door you forget to lock. Japan is one of the safest countries in the world. why lock it?

because of him. you'll learn soon.

exploring your house first, particularly your bedroom. rationalizing it by saying, "their birthday is coming up. maybe i'll find out what she likes."

of course he rationalizes every odd thing he does.

sniffing the pillows, a soft smile, whispering to himself, "mm strawberry shampoo" total lovesick idiot.

by the time, he finished learning things about you, he got to the living room. The TV radiating light on your face, everything else dark.

today was his first picture, his heart beating rapidly as he took it. gosh, how much he wanted to kiss you, hold you. you always lingered on his mind and he hates himself. hates himself for not confessing his love to you back in UA.

you could have been his. his honey, his lover. someone to dote on, someone to love, he hated how he wasn't able to caress your cheek.

but for now he had to return back home.

creating fake social media accounts. thank goodness you didn't have a private account. saving all your pictures, visiting your page whenever he could.

screenshotting pictures, making deep dives on the surroundings. who's that? he's searching up everything about the people around you in those pictures.

but he wouldn't talk to you, no. he needs to make sure he has all his facts straight about you. needs to make your reunion perfect.

instead he took pictures, videos. his phone had a whole folder dedicated to them. it was private, labeled as 'documents'. even bought a usb to upload it to his personal laptop.

pictures of you out on a walk, at a club, at home. he would dedicate his time simply staring, excusing it as "she's changed so much, i need to learn more about her".

it turned into something he couldn't help. secretly following her because 'a quirkless person must be protected. nothing will happen to them on my watch.'

familiarizing himself with you again as he opens one of his drawers. notebooks upon notebooks, all about you, from elementary to his UA years. reading through them either to give himself a good laugh or reminisce the past.

opening up a new notebook for a new era. once the pen hits the paper, he writes quickly, whispering gibberish at a rapid pace only he could understand.

(thx 4 the ask, I've literally never had one before💗)

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 20: I Don't Get You

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 4884 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

“My king!” You screamed desperately from the top of the tree.

The three-headed bear was rapidly climbing the tree. Its snout sprayed white foam every time it roared in hunger. Its claws tore at the trunk as it climbed, warning you of what it would do once it reached you. Your heart was stuck in your throat in the midst of panic of being a meter away from death. You backed away as far as you could to the last strong branch that could support your weight. Tears flooded your sight as you realized this was your end. You would die, you were sure.

“Jump,” your savior ordered you from the safety of the ground.

King Sukuna was waiting for you to obey him with his arms crossed. A smile appeared on your face before wiping away the tears as you realized everything would be okay. You gathered willpower and threw yourself into the abyss, falling with your arms outstretched, hoping that his strong arms would catch you, but something ended up breaking.

You let out a scream of pain that pierced the forest. You slammed against the ground, breaking your leg in two. You cried, in agony, seeing that the fibula pierced your skin, tearing the muscle completely. You begged the king to help you until you looked into his eyes. Those red eyes full of annoyance that forced you to shut up once and for all despite having a bone outside your body. You bit your lower lip in an attempt to control your terrible crying.

“Silly human.” Sukuna tilted his head in pity, pushing your leg with his foot in search of a reaction. “Why would I help you?”

Your heart fell among the dry leaves at those words. Your most primitive side was activated in the face of imminent danger. With all the adrenaline rushing over your body, you tried to get up again to flee from the beasts, but your right leg was so hurt that you only ended up falling to the ground again. Again and again, each attempt hurt more than the last. Sukuna passed by you, completely ignoring you. You crawled on the ground to follow him at all costs. Your arms could barely support your own dead weight. You screamed with all the desperation in your soul as you watched him walk away from you to return to the castle.

“But I…!” Sobbing, you barely crawled. “I hate you, you stupid fucking king!” You exclaimed before you felt the bear's hot breath on the back of your neck.

Your eyes snapped open, and you sat up in bed. You looked around, the bed with pink sheets, the wooden dresser, and the window with the bloody rose. You felt the length of your legs, making sure they were healthy and whole. You cupped your forehead as you calmed your labored breathing, one inhale and exhale at a time. It had all felt so real, but it was just a stupid nightmare. It was already the fifth time you had dreamed of King Sukuna betraying you in the last fortnight.

It had started the day the king had suddenly let go of you while you were dancing. You didn't understand how something as simple as that had shocked you so much, just as you didn't understand his sudden change of attitude towards you. He had defended you from your companions, saved you from a fearsome bear and given you all the luxuries he could give you, but he had purposely let you go in the middle of a ballroom dance. Something wasn't right, but whatever it was, you had to stop caring.

You didn't care about being liked by him anymore. You didn't care about seeing him anymore. You didn't care if he proposed to you anymore. You were still alive, surprisingly, and you were just doing what you had to do to keep going. You woke up early to practice archery, trained after breakfast, and studied the rest of the afternoon. You did enough to not be considered a hindrance, but the minimum to not stress yourself out for no reason.

The fresh air welcomed you before another day of archery practice. You breathed deeply, saving as much oxygen as possible in your lungs. You straightened your back to get into a T-position and pulled the string, tightening it against your fingertips. Your sight focused on the center of the target, as you had done so many times before, until you were tired. Your skills had improved quite a bit in the last few months, so much so that you could hit the center 9 out of 10 times you did it. You let go of the string and the pink-feathered arrow flew, landing perfectly in the center. A satisfied smile crept between your cheeks before you pulled out another arrow. A perfect shot.

“Good job.” You heard a voice behind you.

You didn't have to turn around to know it was the king, but you were surprised that he was next to you after 15 days without hearing a word from him. You gripped your bow tightly to find the composure to be in his presence. You looked up to see him admiring your shot.

“Good morning, my king.” You bowed, looking down again to avoid looking him in the eyes. “What is the reason for your presence at this time of the morning?”

“We're leaving.”

“We?” You asked in shock. “Where to?”

“To the Jogo Kingdom,” Sukuna explained.

“When are we leaving?” You were still processing what was happening.

“Now.”

Sukuna looked back as Kenjaku, Mahito and Mrs. Inoue left the castle being guided by Uraume. You approached the group, placing your bow across your body. Kenjaku and Uraume looked as fresh as a lettuce, while Mahito and Mrs. Inoue rubbed their eyes, trying to wake up the hard way.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted with a bow. Everyone responded to your greeting in unison. “Am I the only one who didn’t know about this trip?” You whispered, somewhat embarrassed.

“I was notified yesterday,” Kenjaku answered honestly.

“I found out last night,” Mahito muttered angrily while cracking his neck bones.

“I was just woken up,” Mrs. Inoue commented with a certain irritability in her tone of voice.

“Be thankful I woke you up. I’d rather wake up a rock than you,” Uraume complained, to which the Mrs. glared at them.

“In that case, I’ll go pack my suitcase,” you said, seeing that Mrs. Inoue had nothing on hand.

“That’s not necessary,” the king stopped you. “Everything you need is in the Jogo Kingdom’s castle. Just pack your bow.” Sukuna continued on his way to the castle exit. “Let’s go, I want to arrive by sunset,” Sukuna ordered.

“Yes, my king.” Everyone followed him obediently.

Uraume saw them off at the drawbridge, as he would be in charge of the castle while Sukuna was away from the kingdom. It looked like the servants were going to spend a good couple of months without the pressure of taking care of the king. Everyone got into the royal carriage to begin the journey. You and Mrs. Inoue were excited to see the inside of the vehicle. It had red satin-covered seats, black lace curtains, and small golden flowers decorating the window frames.

Sukuna, Kenjaku, and Mahito were sitting in front of you and Mrs. Inoue. As soon as the trip started, Mahito leaned on Kenjaku's shoulder to sleep a little longer. Kenjaku tried to shake him off, but his gray head fell back on his shoulder until the master got tired of fighting with him and let him take his nap. Sukuna watched you out of the corner of his eye as you looked out the window. Peace could be breathed in the town full of curses at 5 in the morning. The brick buildings, the endless streets and roofs burned by the sun. The wooden signs swayed in the wind, the supports creaked from how rusty they were. The big tires and the hooves of the black horses hit the stones. Nothing had changed since the last time you went out with the king.

"How exciting," Mrs. Inoue whispered to you excitedly. "This will be our first time leaving the kingdom."

"Ours? What are you talking about?" You asked her.

“Don’t play dumb,” Lady Inoue joked, but her expression returned to serious when you didn’t laugh. “Did you really leave the kingdom?” That question caught the attention of the three curses in the carriage, even waking up Mahito.

“I have left the kingdom. My mother used to take us to the Gojo Kingdom twice a year.” Everyone looked at you in disbelief upon hearing such a tremendous confession. You were lost because they had that expression on their faces.

“That is impossible, what about the Impossible Belt?” The lady asked in surprise.

In the world, there are places that are infested with curses, known as “impossible zones.” They are extremely difficult for humans to cross, so they can only be crossed with the help of a high-grade sorcerer in order to navigate such zones. One of them is the famous Impossible Belt, a long border of high mountains that separates the Sukuna Kingdom and the Gojo Kingdom. Many in the human commune have tried to escape the kingdom through there, but no one is known to have made it out alive.

“My mother, Yorozu, and I used to do it through the lower areas. It was a rather tedious two-day trip.” You explained as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

But Sukuna knew it wasn't normal because he was the one who created the Impossible Belt. 500 years ago, after he had colonized the kingdom he currently owns, he needed a way to make sure the humans didn't escape so that he and the village curses could keep their constant source of food. So he sent out all the curses possible so that no one from the Gojo kingdom would try to cross into his kingdom and no one from the commune would try to escape. For centuries, he was proud that the Impossible Belt was one of his best strategies and now, it turns out that three women crossed it like it was nothing twice a year for who knows how long.

Sukuna raised his eyebrow and gnashed his fangs. You explained, with a smile full of nostalgia, how they camped and ate berries to get through the belt as if it were a damn summer camp. You were making fun of him and you hadn't even realized it.

On the other hand, Kenjaku listened to you attentively. He was just as shocked as the king, but it only fueled his curiosity. By this point, he knew you weren’t an ordinary girl from a human commune without powers, but he didn’t know what exactly you were and where you came from. Every time you shared a personal story, he had more questions than answers.

You realized you had arrived at the bay as soon as the morning sea breeze tickled your nose. The carriage took you to the port on the shore that was west of the kingdom. The strong wooden planks creaked under your feet as you headed towards one of the king’s gigantic ships. You and Lady Inoue took a moment to admire it in all its colossal glory. It was so long that it seemed to be another castle. It had long, imposing black sails with bloody roses to announce the kingdom it represented. The ship’s hull had a giant window where the command cabin was. The body was made of different types of wood that could face even the wildest waves. It was a fierce titan ready to sail the seas.

They boarded the ship via a ramp. Dozens of curses were preparing for the journey back home. They all looked tough, strong and had unfriendly faces, true sailors who had seen everything in their lives. They loaded the ship with supplies, raised the sails and cleaned the floors to make the most of the daylight. They all bowed to the king as he walked around, making sure everyone was doing their job. Mrs. Inoue hugged you by the arm, surveying her surroundings from the panic of being surrounded by dozens of monsters.

“How exciting it is to return home!” Mahito exclaimed at your side. “I will take you to the beach, the hot springs and the ruins.”

“Sounds fun.” You smiled at him.

Every chance you got, you looked over the perimeter of the ship to see the sea. It was the first time you saw it, so it was normal for you to be curious. The waves lightly hit the sides of the ship, creating thousands of white bubbles that disappeared seconds later. The distant blue horizon looked dangerous but tempting.

They followed Sukuna into the ship's hull. Several curses cleaned and prepared the cannons on the sides to be ready in case of a surprise attack. In charge of the rudder and control system was a curse with a peculiar, almost cute appearance. It looked like a bright red squid. It had two large, round eyes, its beard had small black lines, and it wore white cloth covering its body and head.

“Ladies, may I introduce you to the captain in charge of this ship, Dagon,” Kenjaku, may I introduce you to the curse.

“Good morning, Captain.” Mrs. Inoue and you greeted, but he didn't answer them.

“Dagon doesn't know how to speak yet. He's still in the first stage of his development,” Mahito explained.

“He's a baby!” You commented tenderly.

“In simple terms, yes.” Kenjaku caressed his head. “He may seem docile, but it's the strongest curse among all sailors.” He clarified with a smile.

“In that case…” You bowed in front of him. “Take us safely, Captain Dagon”

“Yes…” Dagon answered, dragging out the vowel.

“His first word!” They exclaimed in unison with emotion.

“Attention crew!” Sukuna exclaimed. “We're leaving in 10 minutes!” The king ordered with his commanding voice, deeper and rougher than usual. All the curses answered “yes, my king” in unison. “Kenjaku, take them to my cabin.”

“Yes, my king.” The master obeyed instantly, taking the women with him.

Sukuna watched you leave, still upset by what you had said in the carriage. He was so angry that one of the veins on his forehead looked like it was about to explode. How could someone so docile, who had no idea that sorcery existed before entering the castle, survive the Impossible Belt several times? A true paradigm that he would have to find an answer to later.

“Someone is upset…” Mahito mocked the king.

“Upset…” Dagon imitated him, lengthening the last vowel of the word.

“Get to work.” Sukuna growled.

They returned to the surface and Kenjaku led them to a room at the back of the stern. You opened the door to reveal a large room with a giant bed, an elegant desk, and a small balcony overlooking the sea. Everything was nailed to the floor to secure everything in case of a wild storm that shook the ship completely. You left your bow and quiver next to a bookcase before stepping out onto the balcony to continue admiring the horizon that mesmerized you so much. Never in your life did you think you would see the sea, much less get on a ship as large as that. Deep down, you despised the king for the horrible actions he committed against your race, but you couldn't completely hate him when he gave you the opportunity to experience such unique things like that.

"It is estimated that we will arrive at the Jogo Kingdom in the afternoon, I recommend that you rest," Kenjaku told them before closing the door to return to the king.

"How elegant!" Mrs. Inoue said before sitting on the bed, making herself comfortable immediately.

You stepped out onto the balcony to continue admiring the horizon. Never in your life did you think you would see the sea, much less get on a ship as big as that one. Deep down, you despised the king for the horrible actions he committed against your kind, but you couldn't hate him completely when he gave you the opportunity to experience such unique things like that.

Even though they were living an experience worthy of a royal family, Mrs. Inoue wondered what the Jogo kingdom was like. Would it be the same as the Sukuna kingdom? Would it be cold or warm? Would there also be humans there? Also, what was the true purpose of the trip? A war, business, vacation...? A fourth option revealed itself before her eyes.

"Little girl!" She called you excitedly. "I think I know why the king hasn't asked you to marry him yet." She ran towards you. You looked at her with a curious glint in your eyes. "This is a romantic trip! He even waited to ask for your hand in a special place."

"He has a lot of faith in her." You sighed, looking back at the sea, at the disinterest.

“It's not entirely impossible!”

“I'm not saying it is,” you corrected. “But we're talking about the king here.”

There was a point where you came to consider Sukuna as someone romantic. The way he took you as his own, looked carefully at each of your features with others and protected you from others, made you feel as if you were worthy of that attention, special. But ever since he started treating you coldly, your point of view has changed.

“You have so little faith in him?” Mrs. Inoue asked, disappointed.

“I just don’t want to get any stupid ideas,” you said in a sigh. “I’ll go rest, taking advantage of the fact that I can sleep late.”

“Me too.” Your friend followed you, disappointed.

You lay down on the big bed and the lady imitated you. You closed your eyes to concentrate on the gentle swaying of the waves, the flying seagulls and the footsteps of the busy curses on the roof. You kept thinking about what Mrs. Inoue had said, maybe this time you could dream of a marriage proposal instead of a terrible betrayal.

You woke up to Mrs. Inoue’s snoring. Despite being an adorable old lady, she snored like a locomotive. You sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed your eyes, and remembered that you were no longer in the castle. The ship moved gently as it moved towards its safe destination. You jumped out of bed to explore the surroundings.

You left the cabin to venture around the ship. Everyone seemed too busy to pay attention to you. The sun was at its highest point so you figured it must be midday, you had slept almost 7 hours.

You approached the edge to admire the sea from the side of the ship. The white foam contrasted with the blue of the tide. There was nothing else on the horizon but water and more water. A feeling of uncertainty grew in your stomach as you saw no land nearby. It seemed like sailing was not for her. Your hair fluttered against the strong wind that crashed against the giant sails. You admired the view and then told Wasuke everything you had seen. In the distance, you could see a dark shadow. You placed your hands on your forehead and closed your eyes in an attempt to decipher what was beyond the immense body of water.

"It's No Man's Island," the king answered at your side.

You didn't know when he had arrived at your side, but you weren't surprised anymore. It was impressive how someone so big could be so stealthy. Sukuna noticed that your back tensed, and you avoided his gaze again, just like in the morning. This felt like déjà vu. He rested his lower arms on the edge to lean his body on it, lowering his torso to be at the same height as you.

I explain that No Man's Island was an island that was the reason why the Nanami and Jogo kingdoms almost started a war 100 years ago. Being in the middle of the two lands, both kingdoms constantly competed to prove who could conquer it first. There were several naval battles, death threats and a lot of stress on both sides. It wasn't until both kings realized that the Island was really useless. The land is mostly sand, the climate is dry, the vegetation is sparse and lacks fauna. Both kingdoms decided not to waste any more resources and time on it.

“Now it's used as a vacation land or a kind of stop in case of an emergency.” Sukuna finished his speech.

“Wow…” You blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

It had been so long since you had last been together, that you were starting to feel like the first time you met him. Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing with nerves, and you avoided his gaze at all costs. It was as if all the progress you had made in the last year had disappeared after a month.

Sukuna looked at you from the corner of his eye. It was more than obvious that you were nervous. Just like you used to be before, when it was clear who was the dominant king and who was the submissive servant. He was happy to return to that old dynamic where he was in control of the situation, but not satisfied.

“Why are you taking me to the Jogo kingdom?” You asked, still avoiding looking at his face.

“Five years ago I started my plan to colonize the Jogo kingdom, and just a year ago I killed the king.”

You remembered that week when the king disappeared from the castle. He had returned all bloody and tired, it was the day he stained your uniform with the blood of your coworkers. The memory of him wiping your face, taking care not to cut you by accident, rubbing his fingers against your cheeks flushed by the steam. You had to get that Sukuna out of your head. That Sukuna no longer exists, rather, he never existed in the first place. You remembered that moment as an act of love on his part, while he surely remembered it with disgust, a king bathing with a lapdog.

“I only needed to get rid of the resistance groups that were loyal to King Jogo to complete the colonization. That's where Mahito and the other commanders came in.” The king explained. “Since I have been informed that those groups have died out completely, now I only have to proclaim my position as the new king and name the land as mine.”

It was impressive how the king talked about conquering an entire nation as if he was recounting what he did on a day off. His tone was calm, and he didn't try to boast about his achievements. It was scary how calm he was about the situation. For him, it had been a piece of cake.

"That doesn't answer my initial question," you noted with a frown. "Why did he bring me?"

"To save me a trip. After we finish colonizing, we'll go to the Zen'in ball," he explained.

"I see..." You whispered, nodding your head.

That made sense. From the Sukuna Kingdom, there were two ways to get to the Zen'in Kingdom. The first was the route they were taking: Crossing the sea to the Jogo Kingdom and from there traveling through land to the Zen'in Kingdom. It was faster and more efficient for curses, since there are no obstacles in the way. The second route was much more complicated. That meant going east overland, crossing the Impossible Belt, traveling outside the Gojo Kingdom's borders, passing through the Kamo Kingdom, and then reaching the Zen'in Kingdom. The first route could be done in 3 days, the second in 6. Plus, if you came with him right away, it meant he wouldn't have to send another ship for two months to make the same trip just for you.

Silence ruled between you two. You stared out at the sea for a long time while the others worked in the background. You knew that Lady Inoue was wrong. This would just be another one of the king's trips to continue his plan to conquer the world. You fiddled with your fingers on the edge, deciding whether to mention the marriage he had promised. Sukuna sighed and was about to walk away until you finally decided to be direct.

"Why hasn't he asked me to marry him? He told me he would promise to marry me as soon as I killed someone of my race, and I did. Should I have done something else?" You asked with a small hint of despair for answers, looking him straight in your eyes this time.

“I haven't because more important matters have come up that I must prioritize,” he answered, now being the one to avoid your gaze.

They say that behind every truth, there is a drop of a lie. Even though in his mind he was telling the truth, his heart was lying. He knew perfectly well why he hadn't asked you to marry him, and that he should do it at some point if he wanted to have his heir before continuing with his plans. But I have preferred seppuku than telling you something as embarrassing as: “You make me nervous every time you look in my direction.”

You repeated that answer in your mind so that it would be clear to you. You weren't one of his priorities. Deep down, you already had it clear after he ignored you for a whole month, but you preferred to play at being his favorite as if you mattered to him. He didn't and probably never did. He only wanted to use you to give him an heir and nothing more. It was sad that you were still a lapdog in his eyes, like when you were his servant. Sukuna was going to back out of the conversation, but you stopped him again, holding him by the wide sleeve of his kimono.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked.

“If you had done something wrong, I would have already cut your throat,” he answered before breaking free from your grip.

You grabbed onto the edge to keep from falling to the ground. The glass under your feet began to crack from the weight. You knew you had to be careful, one wrong step, and you would collapse into the abyss. The luxuries, the studies, the archery… It had all been an illusion of safety that was never there. It never protected you, you just haven't done enough to kill yourself.

Sukuna returned to the cabin and stood next to Dagon to see the road in front of them. There were 6 hours left to reach the Jogo kingdom, so they were making good time, they would arrive just at sunset. He crossed his arms as he thought about the conversation he had just had with you. He was pleased, but not satisfied. He had regained control over himself, but it was harder for him to do so now than before. If he continued like this, he would propose to you at the Zen'in ball, as he had planned since the first proposal failed miserably.

It was mealtime, so several curses were handing out the food that the chef had prepared on board. One of them handed the king and the commander a plate with human parts seasoned with various spices that came from the Jogo kingdom.

Sukuna took a finger and put it in his mouth, but when he looked at it closely he realized something. It was a woman's finger. It was thin and long, just like yours. Those fingers that pampered him with caresses and fleeting touches. That skin that gave off warmth and affection.

He gulped as he realized that everything on the plate had your characteristics. Your ears, your eyes, your intestines… He knew you were upstairs, safe and sound, eating some sandwich that Uraume had prepared for you in advance, but the idea that it was on the plate had a strong resemblance to you, took away his appetite.

Cutting your throat, watching you bleed on the floor until the shine in your eyes disappeared and your inert body being carried by Uraume to the kitchen like a pig. That mental image did not please him at all. He loved eating human flesh, all humans only deserved to serve him as food or entertainment. But to try a bite of you. He couldn't…

An inexplicable feeling of disgust rose up his throat, but he managed to stop it by moving the plate away from his sight. He covered his mouth and closed his eyes until it passed. It was the first time this had happened to him. It must be seasickness, that must be it.

Dagon looked at the king's plate with interest, as the king hadn't taken a bite yet. Sukuna quickly noticed his interest and handed it to him.

"I'm not hungry," he said, feigning indifference.

Next →

Masterlist.

taglist:

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(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 11

MASTERLIST

By the time she touched down in Pensacola, all Delilah wanted to do was sleep for the rest of the month. This past week had been exhausting, both emotionally and physically, and as she climbed into the Uber she ordered, she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t get worse when she arrived home and had to lay eyes on Andre for the first time in a week.

Judging from the layers of guilt that had been padding in her belly since she boarded the plane, ‘worse’ seemed more inevitable than anything.

Walking into the trailer park home she didn’t realize she would miss so much, a voicemail appeared in her notifications. Seeing it was from Josh, she quickly shook her head and rid herself of any of the numerous X-rated visuals her brain could resurrect. Putting him on speaker, she dragged herself and her suitcase toward her bedroom, his low teasing voice bringing a smile to her face even though the memory of him swirled in her gut like a ship in the middle of a storm.

"Hey, baby. About to get on the plane back to ATL. I had the best time with you this week. Uhh…miss you already, girl. Miss everything bout’chu, and I mean everything…Anyway, call me. Yeet! Mwah."

Dude actually blew a kiss. So cute. 

Pushing open the door to her bedroom, her heart leapt into her throat, her eyes wide at the tableau before her. The bed she shared with Andre was perfectly made, something she wasn't sure it ever had been since they moved into the house together. The expensive white satin sheets they’d unwisely splurged on one random day years ago and never used since then, draped the bed. On her side of the bed, a single red rose lay on her pillow along with a piece of notebook paper, folded with her name on it.

With numb legs, Delilah managed to lower herself to the mattress and took the note slowly from its place. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper, which she realized he’d spritzed with his favorite cologne. To top it all off, one scan of his familiar scribble caused the tears to instantly fill her eyes.

My Dee-Dee girl,

You've been gone for six whole days and I think I went a little insane. I think this was the longest time we’ve ever been apart and it sucks ass. All week Khalid kept telling me that you’re all I talk about since you been gone and I didn't even realize it. I've missed you being home with me. I wondered if the tryout was everything you dreamed of and I really hope you had fun. I was gonna call you, but I didn't wanna mess up your flow. 

I know you’re home already and when I come back, we're gonna have a candid discussion about you probably getting called back by WWE. Something tells me you did and I can’t wait to hear all about it.

I love you.

Dre.

P.S. Did you see the video I sent you?

Reaching for her phone, she searched around for said video and her heart sank to discover he’d sent an email to her three nights ago. Her chest tightened further as she remembered exactly where she was – whom she was with – at that exact time. She tapped the video open and found Andre standing in front of the mirror in their bathroom. Then, he opened his mouth and began singing the first couple of lines from what she recognized as Justin Bieber’s ‘Ghost’, one of his favorite modern songs. 

As her fiancé’s melodic voice sounded around their bedroom, her arms dropped to her thighs helplessly with his note still in her hands. Her eyes looked to the ceiling and saw nothing thanks to the tears blurring her vision and spilling down her cheeks. This video, this letter, didn’t sound like the same old Andre. This was a repentant Andre. An Andre she didn’t expect at all. She had come home with metaphorical boxing gloves on, waiting to confront the guy who still couldn't understand why the woman he was marrying was pursuing such a wild, unattainable dream. She had come home ready to move on from him. She had almost convinced herself that it was his fault she had ended up in bed, multiple times, with another man.

That if I can't be close to you

I'll settle for the ghost of you

I miss you more than life

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

Sobs wracked Delilah’s body as she curled into the fetal position on the bed, her watery eyes resting on the video playing of Andre’s handsome face, his eyes closed as he sang his heart out to her. 

She fucked up. She fucked up so bad.

And the guilt was going to eat her alive.

----------------------

Five hours after some much-needed sleep, Delilah stood at the kitchen counter picking at the bowl of chicken salad she had made for herself. She had been disappointed to wake up and realize that the unscrupulous decisions that she made in Orlando were not one bad dream. She had gone to the bathroom to freshen up and winced as she was instantly transported back to said bad decisions, her mind replaying the visual of herself bent over the sink, Josh pumping away behind her. Same reason she was standing by the counter and not sitting down, as the image of her back arched against the countertop with his face buried between her thighs materialized the second she laid eyes on the table. Ditto with the majority of the furniture around her house and the numerous positions she’d been twisted into on each one. Long story short, she would never look at any of them the same way again.

The front door swung open, causing Delilah's stomach to lurch once again. She wished she could run away, and that notion did not waver as Andre bumbled inside the house, his trusty backpack on his shoulder and a big relieved smile on his face. "My baby is back!" he exclaimed, slamming the door with his foot as he made his way over to her. When his arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, she fought the urge to throw up on his flannel shirt.

"You're home early," she feigned a smile, crossing her arms defensively as she took refuge behind the counter once again.

If he noticed her strange behavior, Andre didn't let on. "I worked a lot of overtime this week when you were gone," he shrugged, grabbing her fork and stabbing it into her bowl of salad as he lowered himself down to the stool next to her. Even with his mouth full, his lips curled into that goofy little boy smile that always made her heart melt, and not for the first time, Delilah felt the bile rise to her throat.

"So how was it?" he asked her.

The simplest of questions, yet he might as well have asked her about quantum physics. How on earth was she meant to tell him that it was the greatest week of her life without telling him that she had cheated on him? How was she meant to admit that she hadn’t given him much thought because she was with another man? Could she bring herself to break his heart like that?

"It was good." Her answer was flat and curt, her gaze studying the countertop like it was the most fascinating thing in that moment.

Andre just laughed, his face still alight from the triumphant return of his fiancee. "That's it? Just good?" he asked. "So modest. C’mere." He stood and held his hand out. When Delilah took the invitation, he led her away from the kitchen, over to the couch and gathered her into his arms when they sat down. "Tell me. I wanna hear all about it."

So many times she had hoped for this, him finally showing an interest in the life she was pursuing. But instead, this abrupt personality turn of his was rubbing her the wrong way. His happy-little-camper attitude was grating on her nerves, and the guilt bubbling inside her was the reason.

"Why?" she demanded, the question spilling out before she could think it through.

Slightly taken aback by the question, Andre pushed on. "Why? Cuz you're my girl. Cuz I know how much you want this and I'm anxious to hear how it all went down."

Oh, he went down, alright, Delilah thought angrily. She understood that most of the rage she was feeling was directed at herself, but she couldn't help but what the hell had gotten into this man sitting before her. It was as if he knew he was on the verge of losing her, and now he was pulling out all of his famed charm to reel her back in. "Oh really? You care now? What changed?" she asked coldly, pushing out of his arms and crossing hers defensively over her chest.

The wounded look in his eyes made her heart sink. "Baby, I've been an asshole about this. I admit it," he said softly, taking her hand once more. "But I missed you so much, you have no idea."

"Oh riiiiight, I see. You didn’t have your fuck buddy for one week and now you’re all up in your feelings!" Delilah argued. She knew that she sounded bitter and wounded, but she couldn't help it. The emotions of the past week were rushing over her at such a dizzying pace and she wasn't coping well at all, struggling to find her footing on this rollercoaster that her life had suddenly become.

Andre, meanwhile, had had enough of Delilah’s antagonism. "Dee, what the fuck is going on?" he struggled not to raise his voice, scooting back on the couch a few inches. "I thought you wanted me to be more supportive!"

Delilah jumped to her feet. "I want you to be supportive because you believe in me, Andre! Because you're proud of me. Not because you got lonely!" Sometimes she wondered if he understood her at all, if he had heard anything she had said over the last several months.

But Andre was tired of this already. He had just admitted to being wrong and yet she was still berating him. "I can't win with you," he threw his arms out, standing to regain some sense of equilibrium. "What the fuck happened out there?"

"Nothing!" she answered, a bit too quickly.

“Well something happened!” Flinging his arm to the side, Andre was in fight mode. "Just days ago, you were talking about how I didn’t care about you, and now that I’m putting in some effort, you want me to just back off and drop the whole thing? What kinda bipolar bullshit is that?" They had been here too many times, all over this house, outside this house, arguing about anything and everything, specifically on one increasingly annoying subject.

"I want you to actually mean it!" Delilah lashed out, no longer able to contain her emotions. The tears threatened to fall again as she pleaded with him, arms extended helplessly. "I want you to come to one of my matches. Dre. Just one. I want you to see what I do, see why it's so fucking important to me!"

"How many times have I told you, wrestling ain’t my thing," he dismissed. "You don't like all the things I like, but you don't see me cryin’ and beggin’ you to like ‘em."

Crying and begging. He couldn’t even see that his nonchalance had forced her to confide in someone else, and she’d ended up doing much more than that with him. Maybe if he knew, maybe if she told him what his apathy had done to their relationship, his mind would finally, finally change. But she refused to feel guilty for following her dreams. She refused to settle. "I don't need you to be a fan of wrestling!" she argued, "I don’t give a flyin' fuck if you don’t know any of the moves or any of the wrestlers’ names!"

"Then what is this abou-" Andre interrupted.

"For fuck’s sake, Andre! I want you to be a fan of me!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she kicked their wooden coffee table across the tiny room, “I want you to know my name! I need you to support me, to care about my wrestling, dammit!”

An awkward silence fell over the room, punctuated by the heart-wrenching sounds of her sobs as the love of his life’s words sank into his soul. For nearly a year, he had watched her morph into someone he no longer recognized, and not liking what he saw, he distanced himself, hoping it would be out of her system in due time. But now it was clear that this wasn’t going away, and it was breaking both their hearts as what they had – what he thought they had – was starting to collapse before his very eyes. 

"You wrote me some letter and sang a song. Big deal!" she continued through her tears. "You're doing everything but taking an actual interest in watching me find myself, because that’s exactly what I’m doing, Andre, and you can't handle it." She shrugged, even more emotionally exhausted than she was before she returned home. "You laugh, and you joke, and you tease me about it. You laugh at me with your friends. You laugh with my mother." Letting out a sardonic laugh, she shook her head, relaxed her shoulders and met his eyes. If she was going to be honest, she was going to have to be completely honest. 

"You have never believed, not one time, that I could do this. You wanted me to fail just so your life wouldn't have to change. But I didn’t fail! They liked me out there! They want us to move to Orlando in three months so I can start training at the Performance Center. That’s another step closer to NXT, and from there, I could make it to the main roster. I went out there and I left it all in the ring and for the first time in my life I felt like I belonged somewhere and they agreed! The biggest wrestling company in the world wants me, Andre! It ain’t no dream no more and I’m sorry if that’s a problem for you."

Again, silence. Sniffling, she wiped her tears with her forearm and turned, walking toward the bedroom. She was done. And it had nothing to do with Josh, or with wrestling. She was just over it, and she was desperate to let off some steam because if she stayed this way she would most likely combust.

"Where are you going?" Andre asked, watching her change into her sneakers, which he noticed were brand new. Her suitcase was open and filled with more items than it had when she left. Things that, in real time, neither of them could quite afford. She wasn't lying. WWE were pulling out all the stops to bring her into their ranks.

Grabbing the keys to her motorcycle, Delilah responded, "To Tank’s gym. Need to work out." She was still a little tired, but she’d much rather be outside than stuck in this hellhole she was about to call her matrimonial home. She longed to talk to a certain someone but he was in faraway Atlanta and she really couldn’t keep running to him with her problems. Not anymore anyway. Not when he had become one of those problems.

Andre looked dumbfounded that she was leaving this unfinished. "We ain’t done talking, Delilah! You can’t just walk out on me!" 

With a bitter chuckle, she picked up her gym bag. "Damn right I can," she informed him, walking past him towards the bedroom exit. Just as she swung open the door, he grabbed her, his strong arm wrapped around her slender waist. Blushing as she glared hard at him, he cleared his throat. 

"A’ight. Gimme ten minutes to change. I'm coming with you," he said quietly, blushing harder when she raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I'm serious, baby. Let's take the truck. I wanna see you, see what you're all about."

--------------

THOUGHTS? Is Andre finally coming around?

🏷️: @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @femdisa @harlemblipster  @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @truefant4sy @mscarter213 @ariiaeltheedonn @sageispunk @xbriexx @shamaness11 @shantinextdoor @whatdoeseverybodywant

[samott]

Ez volt mar itt, olvastam, de nem talalom. Megkerestem a redditen, link lesz a vegen, de legyen meg itt egyben:

My missing husband came home, but I just know it isn't him

My husband went missing six months ago. Just... went out to work one day and never came home. It was a horrible shock to the whole neighbourhood, because things like that just didn't happen in our little slice of white-picket-fence suburbia. The police launched an investigation, and the neighbourhood watch sent out search parties, but no one ever found any evidence to indicate what had happened to him. Our families were devastated. Recently, the missing posters have been taken down or papered over. The updates from the police became less frequent and dwindled away. I accepted that, hard as it was to admit, my Rick wasn't coming back.

Until he did.

A week ago, I was in the back garden watering my petunias when I heard the garden gate creak open. I jerked my head in that direction and- there he was. Exactly the same as he was the day he disappeared. Same windswept blond hair and bright blue eyes, same curl to his pink lips. I was in shock. Our families had mourned for him, and yet there he was, standing in our garden like he had just popped out for milk or something. When I asked where he had been, he said he didn't know. He couldn’t remember anything about the last six months.

All our family and friends are beside themselves with joy. They almost can't believe it. But that's just the thing: I don't believe it.

Look, I understand how crazy this all sounds, I do. Our families would never believe me, and I can’t go to the police unless I want to end up in a straightjacket. But I just know that the man sleeping next to me isn't my husband. I don't know what to do. I know I should be happy, but I'm not. I'm terrified. I don’t know much about anything supernatural or paranormal, I don't even like watching horror movies. But something about this whole situation makes my skin crawl.

Just let me explain why I'm so sure. Once I've done that, hopefully one of you will believe me, and you'll be able to tell me what to do.

The morning after "Rick" came home, I made him a cup of tea. When I handed it to him, he gave me the brightest smile. Then he took a sugar cube from the dish on the table and dropped it into the cup. Our house was in chaos with his return, and I was still in shock, so I didn't think much of it at the time, but its been replaying in my mind ever since. I know it doesn't sound very significant, but my husband never put sugar in his tea. He was always adamant that it ruined the taste, and he'd get so frustrated if I ever put sugar in his cup by accident. And yet, this man had sugar.

Then it was the golf. A few days ago, when he was out visiting his mom, I recorded a golf tournament that was showing on the TV. It was one of Rick's favourite golfers that was competing, and he never missed it. Once, he even skipped out on an anniversary dinner just to watch a championship. Only, when he came home from his parents' and I told him what I'd done, he just seemed... unbothered? Like, he said thanks and everything, and then he asked if I wanted to get dinner. He didn't even watch it, and that’s just so out of character for him.

Then one night I woke up around 2 a.m. to see Rick's face inches from mine just... looking at me with these blank eyes. I kinda gave this nervous laugh and asked "Baby, what are you doing?" And he didn't answer. For like a solid thirty seconds. He just stared, almost like he was looking right through me. Then he suddenly smiled and said, "Sorry, honey. Sometimes I just can’t believe this is real". Then he just rolled over and went to sleep. I didn’t get much sleep after that, myself.

Yesterday, about a week after he came home, the neighbourhood threw a street party to celebrate his return. Everyone from our street and the streets on either side turned up to see him and tell him how happy they are that he's alright. When he wasn't standing with his arm around my waist, he was milling around chatting amicably to each and every one of our neighbours, even the little kids. Jackson, our next-door neighbour Sally's toddler, wanted to play peek-a-boo, and Rick happily played along with a smile on his face. Now, my husband never did that. Rick always said he didn't like kids - that's why we never had any - and so he never wanted to play with any of the neighbourhood children. Especially not Jackson: Rick all but avoided him. Before he disappeared, I had started to suspect it was so I wouldn't see them together and notice the subtle but unmistakable similarities.

The final nail in the coffin, proverbially speaking, was Sally. Just this morning, she came knocking on our door. Her excuse was the tray of brownies she carried, but I think she just wanted to push her way into our morning so that she could see for herself what the situation was. After she left, I called her a nosy busybody. Rick laughed, kissed my head, and agreed with me. That was when I knew for sure that it couldn't really be him. Rick always used to get so mad whenever I insulted Sally, like I didn't have any right to hate her even though she'd been fucking my husband for years. But today there was none of that. He didn’t even try to defend her.

I know what you must be thinking. If he was in an accident or something, he might’ve had some kind of traumatic brain injury that caused him to forget some things about his life, maybe even change his personality. And that's a valid, reasonable explanation. I have no doubt it's what the police would tell me if I reported all this.

But you know why I'm dead certain that man isn't my husband? He doesn't have a scar. If he was really Rick, he'd have a scar on the side of his forehead shaped like the golf club I hit him with. But there's nothing. Not a mark. Honestly, I'm this close to going out tonight and digging up my petunias just to make sure he's still under there.

I don't know what I'm sharing a bed with, but I know it's not my husband. So what the hell am I going to do?

innet

[m00nsbaby]

The invisible barrier.

(Jake Lockley x F!Reader)

Tags - Warnings: Jake doesn’t know about Marc or Steven. Angst, smut, fluff, everything. Most of Jake’s dialogues are in Spanish, most of reader’s are in English except in November - December. Word count: 4,9 k. (Lol, sorry) Summary: A whole year trying to understand Jake Lockley. (Literally)

January.

"¡Hola!" (Hello.) The sudden voice next to you made you jump as you made the most important and complicated decision of the week.

Would you choose pretzels with dark or white chocolate?

Reluctantly, you turned to your side to see a man standing just a few inches away from you. On another occasion, you would have probably jumped back or fled to another aisle in the supermarket, but the apologetic smile on his lips and the puppy-like look in his eyes told you that he didn't want to be in this situation either.

"Perdón, ¿Podrías decirme qué dice aquí?” (Sorry. Could you tell me what it says here?) The words came out quickly from his mouth and you furrowed your brow in confusion. Your fleeting and ridiculous Spanish classes had never been of much use, even less now that you had the opportunity to help an attractive man.

"I don't... Huh." You cleared your throat, searching for a way to say, 'Maybe I can't help you, but I'll move heaven and earth to try.' Dramatic? Yes, of course, but what more could be expected from a hopeless romantic? Many love stories began like this in your mind; this was a scenario you had imagined at least twice before falling asleep. "No hablo español." (I don’t speak Spanish.)

The man blinked a couple of times, as if realizing that he had gathered courage for about 15 minutes only to lose his dignity like this.

"Oh." He cleared his throat, nodding afterward. "Thanks," he said shyly, as if trying to hide his accent.

"No, no, let me help you. What do you need?" You turned the bag of Cheetos he was holding in his hands so you could see the list of ingredients on the back as he was asking. Both of you were guessing what you were saying. Your gaze scanned the list, nodding your head when you detected the problem. Everything was written in English.

Sure, your aisle companion had an extra problem on top of that. The letters were too small for his poor eyesight, and he would rather ask for help from strangers than give up on the idea of using glasses.

"Give me a second." Your fingers quickly handled your phone as you took the bag from his hands.

You took a photo and the app took care of the work for you, translating every word on the red packaging you held. You didn't hesitate to take a step forward and extend your hand far enough for your phone to be at the stranger's ear level, who didn't question your methods for a moment.

He just stood still, listening.

"¿Colorante rojo número 6?” (Red dye number 6?) He questioned when the voice function finished. And you quickly scanned the phone screen, trying to find the part on the list that seemed closest to what he had just said.

Well, seis = 6, that one was easy.

"Yes, 6." You saw him smile and take the bag back from your hands to shake it in a celebratory manner. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why 6?" He guessed based on how you tilted your head to one side what you were asking.

"Soy alérgico al número 4, o al menos eso creo.” (I'm allergic to the number 4. Or at least, I think I am.) He pointed to his throat. "Siento comezón en la garganta cuando como cosas que lo tienen.” (My throat itches when I eat things that have it.")

Did you understand anything he said? No, nothing beyond the number 4. So, you smiled and nodded, eliciting a warm laugh from him.

He was cute.

"Gracias." (Thank you.) It seemed like he understood the basics, just like you. It was better to use his words than to deal with the pronunciation of the "t" and "h" together.

"It's okay." You shrugged while continuing to smile in a friendly manner. It wasn't because the stranger was incredibly attractive; you always behaved this way with people, or at least you tried to. "Enjoy your Cheetos."

Another giggle. "Cheetos," he repeated, imitating the way you pronounced the brand's name.

You rolled your eyes playfully and went back to the pretzels without saying anything else.

Well, there went the potential love of your life. Both of you were too shy to engage in casual conversation. You were aware that pretending to have the confidence to do so would be a lie.

Silently, you paid for your pretzels covered in white chocolate, looking around in case the guy was still nearby. After a few seconds, you gave up. Well, it was nothing out of the ordinary, even with one more chance, you wouldn't have approached him. More than 20 dollars for a bag of chocolate covered pretzels? That must be a crime, the first time you bought one . . .

"Hola de nuevo.” (Hi again.) The leather of his jacket brushed against your skin as you bumped into him. He was in the exact same position as you, one hand holding his Cheetos, the other clutching the receipt he was trying to read with squinted eyes.

You almost had a heart attack.

"Hi." You smiled, your cheeks betraying you as they turned rosy just from being around him like this. You had to take a step back after the clumsy little push you gave him.

"¿Tienes cómo regresar a tu casa?” (Do you have a way to get home?) You frowned at the question. This only confirmed that your crazy fantasy wasn't going to work out; there was a huge barrier between you.

He could see the confusion on your face so he pointed outside. It was raining heavily.

"Oh." You had been so engrossed in your pursuit of him that you hadn't thought about that. It wasn't a terrible problem, though; you could just wait until it calmed down.

You could spend another $20 on an umbrella in the worst case. Or call a car to take you the 10-minute walk to your house.

"I'll just wait." You had to remind yourself not to get too deep into your words.

"Yo te llevo.” (I'll give you a ride.) He quickly said. "A ride." The way the 'r' rolled off his mouth was enough to make you dizzy.

"Are you sure?" This couldn't be happening. This genuinely couldn't be happening.

"Of course, I'm sure," he repeated, smiling. This couldn't be happening.

It couldn't.

That night, you ran together to his car in the rain, laughing. He opened the door for you, even though it meant a few extra minutes of water poured on him.

You gave him directions through your phone, and you learned how to say "cuadras" (blocks) to guide someone next time, and he kept telling you something you didn't understand, but he noticed you were just nodding for him to keep talking.

He said goodbye with a kiss on your cheek. He used a word similar to "custom" to justify it, ‘costumbre’ maybe.

Oh, and you exchanged numbers. It turned out the stranger, Jake Lockley, worked as a taxi driver most nights. You understood that because the words "taxi" and "noche" were in your mental dictionary.

February.

Your first date was a disaster.

You never considered that to spend the day together, you had to exchange more than 5 words, and Jake stained your beautiful pink sundress with an ice cream that didn't even taste that good.

Oh, at some point, you tripped too. You were so focused on trying to understand one of the anecdotes he was telling you that you ended up on the ground with a scraped knee.

That wasn't so bad, though. I mean, you had Jake on one knee, checking yours. He even had you step on his thigh so he could clean you up with his ice cream-covered napkin.

When the day came to an end, he took you home. You noticed he had memorized your address, making it easier for both of you. You hummed a song together to cover the silence of two people who had to resort to other means of communication than talking.

"I had fun." Lie, this hadn't been anything like you imagined a first date, not after reading books or watching movies.

He nodded silently as he got out of the car to open the door for you.

And even though the date was a complete disaster, Jake kissed you.

He kissed you against the closed door of your apartment, holding you by the waist as if you intended to escape from his arms, begging you silently not to separate from him.

"¿Repetimos la próxima semana?” (Second date next week?)

March.

Text messages flowed throughout the weeks. Depending on the day, one or the other used the translator to send messages that the other could understand.

Sometimes they were just silly pictures, mostly of cats. You found a silly liking for sending him videos and photos of different animals in romantic situations, hugging each other and such, with only the description 'us.'

Jake responded ‘nosotros’ with different emojis depending on the day. He liked the white heart.

His car became familiar to you, as well as the late-night drives with music. You wondered if Jake had started neglecting his work to spend more time with you, and although it sounded selfish, you didn't care much.

You enjoyed his company.

April.

Your fingers played with his curls while both of you rested comfortably on your bed, you on the pillows, Jake on your abdomen.

He was surprisingly interested in one of the old books you hadn't touched in a long time.

"Jake?" He immediately put the book down to look at you. "Can you help me with a word?"

"¿Ahora?" (Now?) he asked.

"Right now."

"¿Cuál palabra?" (Which word?) He closed his eyes as your fingers continued to enjoy playing with his hair. It was so soft that the gentle caresses you gave were enough to mess it up.

"Boyfriend."

"Novio." You stretched your free hand with difficulty. He opened his eyes again, looking at you with interest as you struggled in the least attractive way to open one of your drawers with one hand. Something cracked in it.

You put the bag of Cheetos on his chest, clearing your throat afterwards.

"¿Quieres ser mi novio?” (Do you want to be my boyfriend?)

May.

"Jake?"

The car hadn't started yet when he turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what was wrong. You stretched enough to touch his knuckles, which were marked with a purple tone and scraped.

Your gaze went to him. It was as if both of you knew how to communicate through looks.

"No sé qué me pasó. Mi teoría es que golpee algo mientras dormía.” (I don't know what happened. My theory is that I hit something while asleep.) He frowned as he extended his fingers to get a better view of them. It looked like he had beaten up someone, and he couldn't deny that it hurt, especially when he gripped the steering wheel of the car.

"Are you still having those strange dreams?"

"Weird dreams," Jake whispered to himself as a way to remember your words. "Sí, sueños raros.” (Yes, weird dreams.)

You pursed your lips without saying more as you brushed his knuckles with your thumb, as gently as you could.

"Let's go." You finally gave in, returning to your seat with an unconvincing gesture.

June.

"I don't understand football." You said as you walked hand in hand, leaning some of your weight against his body.

Technically, neither of you were drunk; you were just flushed from the heat of the alcohol, giggly and a little tipsy. Jake had mentioned how funny it would be to go to one of those bars where they show football games for fans, even though neither of you were fans. Choosing a team randomly to support, drinking things with strange names, and maybe sharing spicy wings sounded like a good plan.

That was your Friday night.

"Tampoco yo.” (Neither do I.) Jake was doing his best not to laugh. He failed miserably.

When you reached his car, you leaned your body against it, and your hands ended up on your boyfriend's shirt. He immediately knew what you wanted, bringing both hands to your waist and leaning forward, closer.

"Is it hot here, or was it the 4 margaritas we drank?" You whispered while trying to contain your smile.

"Debe ser ese vestido.” (It must be that dress.) His lips brushed against yours. The sudden change in his voice made you shiver, so husky. “O por lo menos es lo que me está poniendo caliente a mi.” (At least I know that's what's making me hot.) It was the last thing he said before kissing you as if his life depended on it.

You moaned into his mouth, pressed between his body and the car. The kiss was wet as his mischievous hands slid under your dress, squeezing your ass firmly enough for it to hurt. Not in a bad way. "Jake." You complained as you looked around to make sure no one was walking by to see you.

"Date la vuelta.” (Turn around.) Apparently, your Spanish only worked in moments of convenience because you obeyed immediately. You turned your body with difficulty, mainly because he refused to let go of you. You felt his erection against you as soon as your cheek collided with the cold metal of the car. He was rubbing against your ass while biting your neck to his liking, sucking and licking your skin until he marked it. "Fuck, Jake." You whispered with your eyes closed. You could have cum right there with just his kisses and soft touches. Fortunately, he was more considerate because one of the hands that rested on your waist little by little went between your legs, your dress was already raised enough to only have to worry about your panties, he brushed his fingers over your abdomen before sliding his middle finger between your lips. First he wetted it well before moving up to your clit. His touch made you tremble and hiss. "¿Un par de besos te tienen así, corazón?” (A couple of kisses have you like this, sweetheart?) You could hear the smirk on his lips as his finger traced circles against your most sensitive area. "Imagínate como será cuando esté dentro de ti.” (Imagine how it will be like when I'm inside you.) A shameless moan escaped from you. "Eso quieres, ¿No?” (You want that, don't you?) He kept talking in your ear while he distributed one or two kisses between your neck and your shoulder. “Sentirme duro. Profundo.” (To feel me hard. Deep.) He simulated thrusts between each word, his hip pushing yours harder against the car and against his hand that kept playing with your pussy to make you whimper. You nodded without opening your eyes. "Con palabras." (Use your words.) He said clicking his tongue.

"Yes please." You begged desperately while trying to get air through your mouth. "Buena niña.” (Good girl.) You swallowed the complaint of feeling him take his hand out of your panties, just because you immediately heard how he started to unbutton his jeans. "Escupe.” (Spit.) You could feel his girth between your legs, letting you know that there were no more clothes involved. You took a few seconds to be able to clean the fingers that were inside you before with your tongue, making Jake groan just by imagining what you would do with your mouth in another situation. When you were satisfied you spat into the palm of his hand as requested. He wrapped his hand around his cock, and covered it with your saliva. He used the same hand to accommodate it between your lips. A sigh of relief left your mouth when you finally felt it inside you. A muffled whimper accompanied the way your muscles suddenly relaxed, as if that was what you needed. "Mierda, amor." (Shit, love.) As Jake's forehead rested against your shoulder, he muttered under his breath. "Voy a terminar rápido si sigues apretándome así.” (I'm going to finish fast if you keep squeezing me like this.) His voice made you dizzy, you mentally thanked all those days you spent understanding each other because his words could have been enough to push you to the limit. It didn't take long for both of you to pick up a delicious rhythm. When he pushed his hip forward, you pushed back to make him go deeper. When he was pulling back, you were pulling forward almost taking his member all the way out to prepare for his next thrust. You were so close you had to bite the hand he put to your mouth to keep from screaming. "¿Vas a terminar para mi, mi vida?” (Are you going to finish for me, my life?) He whimpered. Oh god, he fucking whimpered. He had a desperate tone to his voice, almost like he was comforting you. "Déjame sentirlo, por favor, por favor.” (Let me feel it, please, please.) This time it was he who was begging. Your saliva had started running against Jake's hand. You were seeing stars from squeezing your eyes shut, and how close you were wasn't helping at all. The spasms had started around him, and without warning, the inevitable happened. He finished inside of you. His cum being pushed deeper inside you with each thrust he took to finish his orgasm was enough for you to reach yours. "Amor, carajo.” (Love, damn it.) His voice cracked at the sensitivity combining with your walls squeezing him every few seconds. You were milking him. "Te amo.” (I love you.) He whispered as his breath interrupted each of his words. That was the first time he said it.

July.

The only thing that relaxed you was that this 360° turn apparently had nothing to do with you.

Jake was someone else.

His flirty and playful personality was just a memory to you. Under his eyes, there were huge dark circles since his dreams had become crazier and more frequent.

There were unexplained wounds on his body, according to him. Or sometimes there were none, but he felt the pain throughout his body, as if a truck had run over him, he said.

He became silent, as if he felt he was talking too much when he started to let out words about what was happening. He still hugged and kissed you, still spent afternoons with you and continued to respond “nosotros" to your silly animal photos.

But something wasn't right. There was something so... strange.

You did what you could to work on it, to let it pass.

Even if it cost you the trust in your relationship.

August.

Your hands trembled as you dialed his number for the tenth time that night. Maybe you were being dramatic, but Jake always made sure to let you know when he had returned home.

The sudden change that had occurred in him over the past 3 months didn't help at all. You wouldn't last a lifetime without wondering why his body kept producing wounds he claimed not to remember, or about those days of complete dissociation on his part, when he swore you were playing with him when you told him it was Saturday and not Wednesday.

"I just want to know you're okay." You whispered with a broken voice to the voicemail. "Please, just tell me you're okay."

There was no response that night. You couldn't sleep either.

The next day, when he showed up at your doorstep with the dark circles you had learned to get used to over the days, your body's first reaction was to push him with all your strength. It was only enough to make him stagger.

"You're an idiot." You spat the words, your eyes flooded with tears.

"Me quedé dormido anoche, perdón.” (I fell asleep, I'm sorry.) He didn't even seem to believe the words coming out of his mouth, but how could he explain to you what was happening in his life if he didn't even know what the hell was going on?

"How much longer do you plan on lying to me?" You didn't care that people passing by on the street saw you both as crazy. You in your pajamas, him leaning against the car as a method of protection.

"No te estoy mintiendo." (I’m not lying to you.) He raised his voice a little, letting out a lot of the feelings he had been suppressing for a while.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" The worst part was that you also had things bottled up inside you, the worry for him being the thing that choked you every day, squeezing tighter and tighter.

"Creo que no quieres entenderme.” (I think you don't want to understand me.) He was angry. You had never heard him like this, especially not directed at you. "Creo que ni siquiera estás intentando.” (I think you're not even trying.)

Damn the day you started to understand his words.

"I'm not understanding you, Jake?" You had already broken into tears. Your finger collided against his chest in an accusatory manner while he seemed unaffected, even though inside he was falling apart.

It was too much for him. Everything was too much.

"I've been trying for months to ignore what you're hiding from me." It was so difficult to argue in this way that frustration was suffocating you.

"¡No te estoy ocultando una mierda!” (I'm not hiding shit from you!) You snapped.

With fear.

Mid-sentence, Jake had reached out a hand to push you. Not with much force, just enough to separate you from his chest.

In seconds, he became aware of what he had done. If the car wasn't behind him, he would have moved even further away from you. He was overwhelmed by fear too.

He was losing himself as he had suspected.

"Me tengo que ir.” (I have to go.)

"Jake Lockley, if you leave, I don't want you to come back." Tired of seeing him run away from the problems, you resorted to the last card you would have liked to play.

You were foolish to think he would risk hurting you again. The last thing you heard was the sound of the engine accelerating to get away from you as fast as possible.

September.

The first part of September is blurry. You did your best to survive without him, but the days passed so quickly that you began to question if you were alive or just living in a bad dream that had lasted longer than necessary.

It was as if Jake was dead to you, without any sign, without any notice, nothing.

He simply disappeared.

The clear countdown of the days begins on the 13th, when your phone lit up to notify you that he wasn't doing much better than you.

✉: ¿Podemos hablar? (Can we talk?)

✉: Estoy perdido. (I'm lost.)

It hurt not having him, but it hurt more to see Jake's well-being. Not knowing how he was, where he was, what he was doing after that tragic day tormented you.

You replied, and the most important relationship in your life turned into a series of midnight calls where you tried to understand what your ex-boyfriend was mumbling from the solitude of his car.

You had friendships that had started in stranger ways than this, you could endure this.

Make it work.

October.

"Trick or treat." Mentally, he slapped himself for how ridiculous his way of reappearing was.

A half-smile appeared on your lips as you opened the door and came face to face with an embarrassed Jake, wearing your favorite leather jacket and both hands in his pockets as if he was waiting to be scolded by you.

"I doubt any of these things don't have artificial coloring number 4." That was your only response as you leaned your body against the door frame. With one hand, you held the huge container of candies that came out of hiding every Halloween.

"Estaba por aquí.” (I was around here.) Jake pointed back, the path that led to the supermarket, or at least that's what you assumed. He had a very lame excuse to see you, but that worked for you. The interest was enough. "Y pensé en venir a saludar.” (And I thought of coming. To say hi.)

"I'm watching Friday The 13th." You looked behind him. Children approached with shyness, seeking candy. "Come in, let me finish with the candies."

Your smile was so genuine that Jake's heart skipped a beat. How had he lasted so long without you? Those lost 3 months would always be present in the multiple mistakes he made.

That night, you kissed until it hurt. Until your lips hurt from bites, until the skin of his neck burned from love bites, until his fingers became imprinted on your waist. "I love you." You said between moans as the movie gave you an almost unreal vision of who the love of your life was. Flashes in white, in red, even in black showing you how beautiful he was from any angle or lighting. He made your sofa creak as he raised his hip toward you, thrusting into you even deeper if that was possible. "I love you, Jake." You repeated with a broken voice while your little jumps gained more strength. Your body was already exhausted, your legs were shaking and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck from sweat but emotionally you refused to get away from him. "Te amo. Te amo. Te amo.” (I love you. I love you. I love you.) His whispers mixed with his panting. You both seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Don't go away again." Your fingers tightened on his chest, scratching at his skin as you had done many times before. "Don't ever leave me again, Jake." The way you said his name burned in his heart. He brought a hand to one of yours to squeeze them on his chest, making you feel his agitated heartbeat. There was no need to say more, not while your kisses, movements and moans spoke for themselves. That night, as you rested on his chest after an orgasm that made you both shake from head to toe, he promised you never to leave. "Mi vida.” (My life.) He repeated as his fingers untangled your hair and your weight on him increased as you drifted off to sleep. "Mi cielo. Mi corazón.” (My darling. My heart.) He whispered in your ear. "Mi todo." (My everything.)

November.

Everything with Jake was stupidly easy.

Laughing, singing, existing.

As easy as in the romantic comedies you used to love watching before you met him. And it's not that you had forgotten about those because of him, but now you enjoyed watching action movies, those that allow you to get distracted without losing track of the plot.

You didn't press him to talk about what happened in those months, knowing that there were still a thousand secrets between you because you still saw strange bruises on his body, marks on his knuckles, or felt him getting up in the early hours of the morning when he stayed over with you.

"Leave me alone!" You ran down the hallway, laughing with him trailing behind. Probably restraining himself because it would be impossible for him not to catch you with his eyes closed.

He wrapped an arm around you to press you against his chest and used the other to prevent both of you from crashing into the wall. He was laughing too.

"Do you give up?" He squeezed you tighter with his arm.

"Never! Let me go!"

The laughter almost made it difficult for you to speak.

"Come back to me, and I'll let you go."

The seconds of silence churned his stomach.

"What?"

"I mean..." He cleared his throat. "Officially. Would you be my girlfriend? Please?"

It almost seemed like he was begging you.

You reassured his fears with a kiss.

December.

"I don't understand how you can eat these things." You took a deep breath through your mouth, sticking out your tongue, already reddened by the red dye number 6, to seek some relief from the burning sensation.

Jake was setting down a fifth box from his arms. He sighed, tired.

"No puedo creer que no me estés ayudando.” (I can't believe you're not helping me.) He approached you to steal one of the Cheetos from your bag while you licked your fingers. "Te dije que uses palillos chinos, así evitas el polvo.” (I told you to use chopsticks, that way you avoid getting your fingers dusty.)

"The dust is the best part." You popped your thumb out of your mouth.

"Disgusting." He feigned a look of disgust as he settled between your legs, resting a hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze.

"You didn't say that when..."

"¡Dios mío!" (My God!) He gasped, biting his lower lip to suppress his laughter. He leaned forward, stealing a chaste kiss from you. "Compórtate.” (Behave.)

"Are there many more boxes left? I didn't think you had so much stuff in your apartment." You pushed the box aside as you leaned forward to prolong your kisses.

"This is my apartment." He whispered with a smile against your lips.

"Touché." Your fingers slowly roamed his shirt collar before pulling him closer with a tug on the fabric. "What if you take a break?"

Jake's hands were already on his pants, figuring out how to unbutton his jeans without separating from your body.

"I'm never going to stop unpacking." He complained as his lips began to descend towards your neck.

Ok now that I have written happy endings for the three of them I’m sick of them, lol, I’ll try to get angst-ier with these thingies

[blueweaver1]

This is part 2 of my Oathbound AU

Click here for part 1

I been working on this AU some more, as you can see. Above are the different forms that Impulse and Skizz can shift in-between. I just realized I forgot to add Skizz's scruff, please pretend he has it. Below has more details about forms, the environments they grew up it, and how this AU interacts with the Life Series.

--Forms--

Impulse prefers his human form. He works a lot with redstone and machinery so lots of tight spaces and moving parts. So while having horns and wings is cool those parts are more likely to get stuck or pinched.

Skizz prefers having at least his wings out. However, he doesn't like it when random people clock him as an angel. To remedy this, while he has his wings out he'll store his halo in his inventory. If anyone asks what type of hybrid he is, he'll just saying some type of white hawk. Impulse would say Skizz is a type of pigeon.

--Places--

So the places that Angels and Demons are form aren't new dimensions, but more like extensions to existing places. The placeholder names are The Upper and The Under. I thought about using the Aether name, but ultimately decided against it.

The Upper is a place far above the sky. Past the limit where fireworks refuse to ignite. Past the limit where elytra start to freeze and shatter. Past the limit where even the sturdiest avians refuse to go. That is where you'll find the angels.

The Upper is a very cold land. Water isn't a thing up there only ice. However, it's no winter wonderland given that it's much too cold to snow. Angels are built for this type of environment, because while they can eat food most of their energy comes from light. Shelter and tools are made from stone and wood-like materials. Although most angels are perfectly fine just finding a nice, flat, floating rock and sleeping on that. The air up there is very still and quiet.

The Under is a place far below the Nether. Beneath the lava lakes of the Nether, in netherrack that is partially baked from the intense heat and weight, you'll find the demons.

The Under is a very hot land. Winding tunnels and caverns that were dug out connecting with chaotically formed ravines all of which is only lit by lava that has snuck through the cracks. Demons are mostly fire proof, because of this they are able to crawl up from the lava lakes are search for food on the Nether floor. There are things they can eat in The Under, but almost all Demons prefer the stuff from the slightly above. The tunnels are often quite noisy.

If it wasn't clear: The Upper is above the overworld, The Under is in below the Nether.

--Who did the Oath first?--

This was answered in the comments of part 1, but I also wanted to put it here.

So if you asked them directly they would probably give you a different answer time. 1: because it's very personal 2: because it's funny. So what actually happened is both Skizz and Impulse thought of the idea independently, but it was Skizz who brought up it up first. However it was Impulse who did the oath first. Of course it took multiple years for him to psyche himself up to do it, not because he didn't trust Skizz, he was just very nervous about it.

Impulse is also just a "tiny" bit competitive and wanted to go against the demon stereotypes. While Skizz would've preferred it to happen sooner and was will to go first, he understood that this was important to impulse. He does have fun needling Impulse that it took him soooooo long, but it's all in good fun

--Life Series--

I personally like seeing that the Life Series started as a fun hardcore series that turned into a death game due to outside forces. Impulse and Skizz (in their human forms) understand that things are going wrong when the second game starts. While everyone's hybrid abilities are being suppressed by the outside force so no one get too much of an advantage. Yes, they could brute force it by going Eclipse mode and getting everyone out they don't know if that would help in the long run. I mean what if it happens again but since they outsiders how of their powers they don't take Impulse and Skizz and the two of them completely lose track of their freinds?

So they settle for trying to pick up clues and win at least one of the games...

....

...

.... why are they so bad at this ....

(though it sounds like angst, it's probably going to end up as a comedy if I'm going to be honest...)

[ronance4everbrainrot]

Just one more hour before school is over and the holidays starts and Chloe can finally go back to her dorm and talk to Red. She had a surprise for red and she's been dying to tell her about. With all that time traveling stuff and the changes, it can get overwhelming sometimes most of the time, to not know which timeline is true and which is false. Since Ella and Bridget had stayed friends in this timeline, she'd known Red since childhood. Which is really cute but she can't help to feel sad knowing she doesn't have the memories of this timeline.

Which is why she has been looking through books for a solution for the memory problem. The Charmings aren't a magical family, so Chloe wasn't really keen on potions and spells. And while she was searching in the books, she came across something called "Memory Restoration". She wasn't sure if I'll work or if it does that they'll lose their other timeline's memories. That's why she has been hesitant about it and hasn't mentioned it to Red, not to get her hopes up and all.

Speaking of Red. She still has her distance with Bridget, even tho she very much changed and was more kind-hearted than cruel. But Chloe knows to some extent what the Queen of Hearts was like and she understands that Red needs time. But even with time and however many times Bridget showed she was kind and loving to her daughter, it may also never fully go away. The Trauma the tyrant caused has been done, it can't just be taken away by changing the past, creating a new timeline. It still happened.

Chloe was not paying attention as the Teacher was wishing them a nice holiday as the Bell scared Chloe out of her thoughts and made her jump up. As she jumped, she accidentally shoved her seat-neighbour's arm which caused them to pour too much of the ingredient into the small cauldron, as well as let the glass vile fall into it. As her classmate cursed and ducked down fearing the worst.

They were taught here in this potion class, to not let the glass vile fall into the cauldron/potion. Chloe never understood why, and also was confused that they never told them what would happen. Or maybe they did but she doesn't have the memory of it anymore. But she was pulled from her thoughts as there suddenly was a sound of a small explosion and Chloe was getting hit by the potion flying everywhere. She squeezed her eyes shut, her body clenching afraid of what will happen next.

After a while she opens her eyes slowly, the first thing she notices is her teacher, Mrs. White checking on her, she seemed relieved as she had asked the student what potion they were making and it wasn't anything harmful (which fortunately wasn't a surprise since this is Auradon. Why make a harmful potion, especially in class?). She looked around hoping no one else got hit by the potion, since it was her fault and she'd hate to be the cause of someone's discomfort when it's unwarranted Luckily everyone got away quick enough and Chloe finally let herself breathe. Mrs. White asked if she is okay or she feels weird. Chloe thought for a second and said "Alles okay, Frau Wittchen, und überraschenderweise fühl ich mich eigentlich ganz normal." Mrs White looked at her somewhat surprised and also a bit amused but she understood her "Chloe, you're speaking German. The potion was a language potion, well more like being able to understand and speak the language for a duration of time. But since something was changed in the formula, you can only talk in your native language. But it should wear off in one or two days"

Chloe's eyes grew wide "Was!? Wirklich je-" she pauses. Now noticing the words leaving her mouth not being English. "Ach schei-...benkleister" Chloe almost curses and Mrs White. Raises an eyebrow but she can't help but chuckle "Off you go know. If you have any negative symptoms or start to feel weird. Go to the nurses office" she walks back to her desk "Auf Wiedersehen und schöne Ferien" said Mrs. White in German. Chloe let out a short laugh "Danke. Ihnen auch" she sighs and walks out of the classroom after she packed her things.

When she was out of earshot she cursed

Scheiße

------

Part 2

Part 3

Ok this is it. I may write more. But not right now. I mean I definitely want her to

Also the teacher was Snow White and I'm German she's called Schneewittchen and Snow white is from Germany lol.

Also also the first time she's about to say shit she changed it to window glue? lol. It's like a kid friendly swear lol. Like wanting to say shit but changing it to shoot "sh-..oot"

Too lazy to translate the other stuff rn.

Ask nicely if I should write the translation at the end 😙✨ but you'll have to still wait

Byeeee

[aphrmoosun]

Helaegon; An heir [One-shot]

Show.

House of the Dragon

Pair.

Aegon & Helaena

Tags.

Targaryen incest, smut, aegon suffers, helaena on top, dreams, making heir, helaena discovers her body power, more specific her mouth on aegon body, improving their conversation skills, writer is not English native speaker, etc.

Sipnosis.

Aegon and Helaena have just lost their first son, the heir and after days of trying to breathe or eat to continue their lives, Helaena starts having those dreams again now seeing a new baby body in her arms. But how could they have another son if they haven't spoken for days.

My fanfics.

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

An heir [One-shot]

She had dreamed it. Not once, not twice, not three times. Every time she closed her eyes to rest, she had seen it. Every dream, more realistic, clearer than the last. But when it felt real was when she lived it in reality.

Those assassins had infiltrated the castle, into her room, and no one had stopped them.

It had happened to her before. At first, a strange sensation would appear in her hands. She would become clumsier, and her mind wouldn't pay attention to reality. She would have dreams about people or objects she had never seen. And her dreams would become more realistic and clear when she couldn't do anything to stop the event.

Her brother Aemond had lost an eye, and she knew it, she had felt it for days, but even she herself didn't understand sometimes what her mind was showing her or making her say.

Helaena could have done more. It was no longer just a dream. Now she had to live with it. Her little one had been murdered in front of her, and she couldn't do anything.

No mother should be in that position, pointing to her child like that. But her own body, for survival and because her daughter was also lying next to him, moved instinctively.

Now she had to live with it. She didn't eat, didn't sleep, and didn't think. She continued her life as a mother, as a woman, and as a queen on autopilot. But her mind kept working on its own.

She was going to go crazy.

Again, she was becoming clumsy, and she had started dreaming. Her dreams were short, since the queen didn't sleep at night, the queen would fall asleep for half an hour or an hour a day while sewing or staring at her food.

A child's cry took her out of her thoughts, out of her memories. Helaena looked around the room, she was alone. The girl was with her grandmother. And Jaehaerys was no longer with her.

But that moment of lucidity gave her time to understand what she was doing. She was sewing a small monkey, baby-sized, with green and black colors.

She didn't understand how she had gotten there until one of the servants told her.

In front of her, she saw a small bed, smaller than the twins' bed, which was behind her. It looked like a cradle.

"You told us to bring it."

Had she said that? Helaena didn't remember that conversation, but she had that feeling of being controlled by her own mind again.

The sound of a baby, the cradle, and her recent dreams told the queen that soon there would be an heir. But it couldn't be that soon.

She was lost in her own world, unable to bear her own.

And the king, her husband, wasn't much different.

Aegon wasn't like Helaena. He had screamed, cried, and searched for their son's assassins all over King's Landing, managing to avenge one of them, called Blood.

So it was impossible, a second child... The king and queen weren't thinking about it now.

She also found the king waiting for her in her own room, sitting on her bed, when she was determined to go to bed to dream about her son again. This time, the second one.

Or so Helaena thought. Because since her last dream, it was all she could think about. In it, she had seen a baby in her arms with white hair and closed eyes, so she couldn't see their color.

"Sit down."

"Aegon, what's going on?"

This time was the first time she had heard his voice addressing her, and in a way, it relieved her to know that he had come to find her when he was ready to talk about it.

Helaena didn't want to make him wait. For days, Aegon had only communicated with her through glances and gestures, almost nonexistent, but some remembered.

"There are duties as king that I must fulfill, and as my wife, my queen, you must fulfill them too."

"We're no longer children, nor are we newlyweds. At one point, we knew how to make an heir... but they took him from us."

"Aegon, I-I don't know what..."

Aegon didn't smell of alcohol, but he looked like he hadn't slept much. Maybe that was why this was the longest conversation they had had in a while. The king's eyes were red, and his hands were badly bruised from probably beating their son's assassin to death.

"I think you should rest."

Helaena managed to say a complete sentence without being interrupted.

"No, I don't want to sleep. We must make another heir, if not I'll have to name Aemond as my heir."

As much as the king spoke, he didn't move. It was rare, since whenever he had wanted to consummate their marriage in a more physical way, he had always taken the first step and never talked that much.

"Is something worrying you?"

He didn't respond immediately, Aegon had found a more interesting lint on the floor than her or her words, and only looked at the floor.

"Nothing will make us forget. He was... our child." -The queen placed her hand on the king's trembling hand that was on his knee.- "This time we can do it as you want."

"I don't want to do it." -She heard him whisper.- "If we make another heir, it won't replace Jaehaerys, it will only be at the level of the crown, but nothing will take away the fact that they murdered our first child."

The king was known for his roughness in bed, the queen knew about his mistresses not only within the fortress but also in King's Landing. She was grateful that her mother had convinced Aegon to be more traditional and simple with her, but that had happened in a distancing from Aegon, who was her husband and father of her children.

Knowing the king's unusual tastes in the most intimate matters, the queen offered a way in which they could forget what they were living through, even if only for a few minutes.

"No, you better..."

Helaena stopped him before he could refuse. She didn't interrupt him with words, but with actions. The queen lifted her skirt, kneeling in front of the king.

"Tell me what to do, Aegon."

She directed her hand towards the king's pants, which ended up inside them, searching for the king's virile member.

With her gaze, she tried to seek some reaction from him. She had never seen Aegon so still when they were about to copulate, but with her words and actions, she had left him planted, not knowing what to do. That feeling of power awakened in her chest, making the queen dare to take her next moves.

"No."

Aegon pushed her hand away, standing up from the bed. Helaena found herself on her knees, looking up at Aegon in a lower position.

"Not your hand, no."

Aegon grabbed her head, making her look up, not at him, but at his member, which was still covered by his pants. He lowered his pants, leaving it free, his member still a bit unhappy.

The queen looked away, not understanding if he didn't want her to touch him with her hand, what did the king want.

"Open your mouth!"

"Then, with what..."

Helaena felt the hardness of her husband enter her mouth, wondering how they could make babies like that.

By instinct, the queen opened her mouth, still confused. But that seemed to ignite the king, whose member had happily risen at seeing her immediate obedience.

"You're going to feel me until your throat!" -That ended up scaring her.- "I warn you so you don't vomit on my cock."

She finally understood that it was all about the king's pleasure.

It sounded more difficult than it really was. The tip of the king's penis touched her throat, but then came out and went back in. He was taking her, but instead of taking her through her most intimate parts, he was taking her through her mouth.

"Helaena."

The king's hips began to move along with her head, surprising her. His rapid and increasingly hard movements told her that he was going to finish soon.

She heard him whisper her name, making her close her legs tightly. She had never felt so wet down there. Not until now. It was Aegon who was taking her, but she felt like she was in control, he was holding her hair, but she was moving her tongue and mouth, sucking and licking what made the king sigh and moan. The control was hers for the first time in their bedroom, and that gave her pleasure.

"Ah, I'm going to..."

A hot liquid ended up pouring down the queen's throat, making her eyes water from the intrusion. At least, he had warned her.

"Aegon."

When he pulled out his member, Helaena sighed the king's name, seeing him sit on the bed with trembling legs.

"Come."

The king called her, pointing to his lap, and the queen sat on top of him, placing both legs on either side of him.

"Ride me, Helaena. Imagine I'm your dragon, tame me."

The queen unsheathed her claws, feeling the power she had gained with just her mouth, and directed her entrance towards the king's already hard member, penetrating herself with a moan.

Aegon grabbed her hips, making her bounce on top of him.

In other occasions, she had felt the intrusion of the member with some pain. This time, the wetness of her hole had facilitated the penetration.

"Faster... like that."

Helaena pushed him back, making his back touch the bed. He let himself fall back without complaining.

"Please, I'm almost there..."

The king's pleas provoked an electric shock in her lower belly, making her reach climax, and with her, Aegon came inside her.

From exhaustion, Helaena lay down next to him, trying to recover her strength to get up. But when she turned to look at Aegon, she saw him sleeping, and decided to rest beside him.

Her hand went down to her belly, wondering if that night they had created that small being she saw in her dreams and visions. Her third child, who would come to save the crown but also to save their parents from going crazy.

It had been six years since their first time, but that night had been the night of getting to know each other physically and mentally. If the queen had known before the power she could have over the king, she would have spent many more nights like that, making heirs or resting beside each other. They wouldn't have been so alone.

...END!

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 3)

3. A change of heart

Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa.

Warnings for this chapter: anxiety, tarot readings, canon typical violence, tension, mutual pining

Word count: 8k (um? It wasn't supposed to be that long, but I'm not unsatisfied at all)

Theme song: “Hoist the colors” by Bobby bass (click on the link)

A/N: I tried my best to add Zoro's perspective in this part. I don't know if I did a good job or not, but I'm experimenting with writing specific characters and personalities. I think I understand him a tad bit more than I did last time — in case you haven't noticed, I love psychoanalyzing my favorite characters and Zoro is one of them. The last chapter felt quick paced because of the fight, but this one is slow paced; I wanted to stretch the tension that way.

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

"He has quite the bounty on his head," the witch commented as she looked at Buggy's wanted poster. 

Zoro's fingers gripped tighter at the hilt of his white sword after he huffed. 

"I should've killed him."

"And how were you supposed to be paid for it when you're a wanted man yourself?" Luffy laughed at him. 

Another huff left the swordsman's lips and he averted his eyes with a scowl. 

"I guess that's also right."

He tore the poster from the wall and squeezed it in his fingers, the paper getting destroyed right in front of his eyes. 

"Stupid clown," he muttered. 

A light chuckle got his attention; the witch who stood with her arms crossed right next to him didn't seem lively at all. Ever since they stepped on land in the Syrup Village, color drained from her face and she was constantly fidgeting and playing with her fingers. It was weird; the swordsman didn't spend much time with the other three, but they weren't impossible to read. 

She didn't seem the type to be so awfully quiet. She had smart comments sitting on the tip of her tongue and it wasn't necessarily hard to make her smile; if anything, Luffy's smile was so contagious and it influenced her greatly, Zoro observed. The straw hat wasn't the only one in that situation — each one of them was. The witch somehow knew what to say and how to treat them, how to approach a topic. 

Maybe that's why she was called a witch. For the life of it, Zoro didn't like to read between the lines and his usual blunt personality drew people away because they misinterpreted it as rudeness. Did he care? Not really. So why did he suddenly think too much about it? Why was he thinking of ways to get a word out of her mouth? 

The woman his eyes were fixated on didn't hear Nami when she appeared, coming back to earth only after Luffy nudged her side with his elbow. 

"Let's go find a ship."

She only nodded and followed along, burying one hand in the pocket of her pants. He saw when she bought a pocket knife from a stand and hid it. Zoro guessed her fingers were always curled around the knife for safety reasons, even if her fear seemed irrelevant — nothing was suspicious in that village. 

They were the only suspicious people around there. A navigator who is a thief, a green-haired tall man with three swords attached to his hip, a pirate who wore a straw hat and a beautiful witch. 

Beautiful, indeed, even if that word alone didn't do the woman enough justice. Not only the way she looked was pretty, but the way she carried herself, how stable she was on her feet, the sparkle in her eyes, the taunting mischief of her gentle smile. 

A smile that has been gone for half of a day, now replaced by anxiety. Even a blind man could see the unsettling feeling she was carrying. 

Zoro didn't realize when he took the opportunity of looking at her hair bouncing with each step after he chose to walk behind them all. He shook his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, moving his gaze away. His mind shouldn't be wandering on useless things. 

Nami stopped in her tracks once they reached the dock. 

"We don't need something flashy, we have to sneak it out of here without anyone noticing."

"You mean we're gonna steal a ship?" Luffy furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Yes?" the navigator frowned. "Wasn't that obvious already? How else are we gonna get a ship?" 

"We can ask for one!" he beamed.  

"So you think that just talking with someone would bring us a ship?" 

The witch only sighed and shook her head at the other two's argument. 

"Fine," Nami gave in after looking for too long at Luffy's puppy eyes. "But if it doesn't work, we do it my way." 

"Deal."

Instantly, he walked away in search of a ship. 

"So, what's the actual plan?" Zoro asked nonchalantly. 

"You two look around and see how lax the security is around here. I'm gonna look for a ship and if we have enough luck, we will bribe Luffy into stealing one."

"I wish you luck," the swordsman smirked. 

That's how they split up, Nami heading in a different direction while the witch walked straight up ahead with one hand still in her pocket. He approached her after a few long steps, merely looking at her from the corner of his eyes. 

"If you keep walking around so stiff, people will guess we have something to hide."

"The only thing I have to hide is a pocket knife. On the other hand, you have three swords and no one looked at you suspiciously yet." 

Finally, she said full phrases. However, there was no change in her expressionless face. 

"What's up?" he fully turned his head towards her. 

"Hm?" 

Those beautiful eyes looked up at him curiously. 

"Is someone suspicious?" he asked. 

"No, just the air." 

Once again, she turned her face away before he was able to read what she was hiding. It didn't seem like something big or dangerous, but she was definitely acting shady. 

On top of it all, she wasn't exactly paying attention to her surroundings, since she didn't notice the two marines walking around the corner. Zoro wrapped an arm around her middle and placed a palm over her mouth, shoving the both of them between two buildings. 

Her fingers grasped at his wrist and if she wouldn't have reminded herself to let go of the knife, she could've cut him. 

"You could've just warned me," she whispered to him after she moved his hand away. 

They both noticed their situation way too late. Her back was pressed against his chest and his arm was holding her securely next to him. His fingers burned her skin even through the large shirt she was wearing. The air got knocked out of her lungs and for a moment, she remembered the second reason for her unsteady feelings — him. The pirate hunter she didn't like thinking of because it was better that way. 

When Zoro noticed the marines went away, he let go of her, even if too slowly. He let his suspicions get the best of him. 

"What are you hiding?" 

The witch — who just grabbed at his arm to move it away —  was in that moment frozen on the spot. 

"Nothing important."

From behind her, he couldn't see the way she frowned. 

"You're like a walking ball of anxiety." 

"I told you, it's just a shift in the air. Nothing important," she gritted her teeth, getting irritated. 

Why was she distant? Did she think he wouldn't believe in her intuition? — that's what she'd probably call it. 

She moved away after what felt like years, but her shoulders relaxed. It seemed like she figured out God-knows-what. 

"I don't like the energy. It feels like I'm gonna die soon."

"Did you see a black cat?" 

"No, I feel something crawling up my throat."

She resumed her walking and he kept up with her for the second time that day.

"Everything seems fine. I saw only those two marines and they were awfully relaxed," Zoro changed the topic. 

"Then, just like Nami guessed, the security isn't exactly top class," the witch responded. 

They walked around in silence, spotting Luffy on a ship with a goat figurehead. The swordsman could see the happiness bouncing around the straw hat who just called out at them. 

"Guys! I found it!" 

"Did you think for more than two seconds before choosing it?" the witch arched her eyebrow, amused. 

"Actually, one glance was enough to know this was the perfect ship for us."

"Why am I not surprised you were right?" Nami sighed. 

"He will sell it to us," Luffy pointed at a young man who walked behind him. 

"Um, actually, this is not for sale," he tries to smile, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

His golden-brown skin glistened in the early sun rays, which most probably meant he was working on something. 

"And I'm not a salesman," he added. "But my friend owns this ship." 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

They found out his name was Usopp and the friend he was talking about was a girl who was celebrating her coming of age on that day. Kaya not only invited them to dinner, but insisted they could sleep over, considering they were “Usopp's friends”. The witch was still getting used to being called a friend or comrade, since she doesn't remember the last time that word was met with serious intentions. 

The girl's mansion was… big. It was like a labyrinth and even if Zoro was bad at directions, she thought it started to rub off on her the moment she walked towards the dressing room after taking a bath. The lights weren't particularly bright and the sun was setting by that time. The curtains were tied together, leaving space for the warm golden lights to bathe the hallways. 

Mystery clung to each artifact and painting. It was beautiful, yes, but there was a certain aura of that place that unsettled her. 

Not to mention the staff — she never thought it would come a day when she'd say “these people are weird”. For the past two years she's been traveling alone around the Blue East and she met dozens of people, one more intriguing than the other. However, that butler was suspicious. She wanted to believe he was just a father figure for Kaya and he was protective of her, but she couldn't. 

From the moment when she entered the dressing room — she's surprised she even found it —, she decided to answer some questions of her own. 

She shuffled her tarot cards in her hands, meticulously arranging each card that fell, putting them in order. It was confusing her — it was the second time she does the same thing, with the same question in mind, and she received the same ambiguous answer. Why did the cards have to be particularly hard to guess on that day? 

She ran her fingers through her hair and ruffled it, accidentally tugging harshly enough to make her frown deepen, but she held back a hiss. Maybe some pain would help her focus, instead of letting her mind waver. Luffy, who sat cross legged on the carpet, just like her, was analyzing her reactions because he had no clue what she was doing. 

"What do you see?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Why are you whispering?" Zoro asked. 

The swordsman hasn't moved since he came into the dressing room and sat on a comfortable chair. He flexed his arms when he crossed them over his chest and threw one or two glances at the swords leaning against the armrest. 

"I don't know," Luffy whispered again, snapping his head towards him. 

She didn't pay attention to them at all. She had to admit that she felt better than an hour ago, before having the opportunity to take a bath, the reason why she was wearing a dressing gown only. It was so soft and the material felt perfect against her flushed skin, her collarbones exposed entirely. 

She was completely unaware of the gaze locked on her. The woman had no clue a specific swordsman was thinking more than he usually does. There was an inner battle he couldn't fight by using his three swords style. He occupied himself by focusing on the material things; the carpet was soft. 

Just as soft as her body when he glued her back to his chest to avoid those marines. 

"What do you think?" Nami smiled proudly after she appeared from behind the room divider. 

"You look like Nami," Luffy shrugged. 

The witch chuckled at the response. She didn't smile once since she entered that mansion, but she couldn't help her reaction. Instead, she raised her head to the orange-haired woman whose shoulders fell at the answer she received. 

After a few seconds of thinking, the witch decided to give her a real opinion:

"It compliments your body, but it isn't necessarily flattering — maybe you can find a few other options?" 

Nami nodded, moving around to search for something else. 

"I kind of feel bad for Kaya… she must feel lonely in such a big house," Luffy commented. 

The witch decided to avoid the conversation, her eyes stuck once again on the few cards splayed over the carpet. She took in a deep breath and then sighed. It made sense, but it didn't feel like a complete answer. She decided to turn the rest of the deck upside down and take the card on the top. 

"Dammit," she cussed out. 

It confused her even more, so she just put the card back in the deck. 

After a minute of spacing out, she managed to focus on the other three in the room. 

"Rich people don't feel emotions the same way we do," Nami said flatly. 

"She seems kind, though," the witch hesitated as the words left her lips. 

"That's a big word," Nami probably rolled her eyes, considering her tone. 

"Probably. She seems better than the butler, by the way."

"Have you guys seen him before?" Zoro asked, shifting in his seat. 

Immediately, the witch moved her head towards him. He answered a question she didn't even ask and her fears felt validated for a brief second. So he also found that man suspicious. 

"No, but I don't like him at all," the witch responded firmly. 

"How come you can talk so easily about people you just met? No offense."

Nami was still looking around for a dress when she talked. 

"It's not that I'm being judgmental — I can't assume what those people did or not. However, tell me, what about the staff makes you go 'oh, yes, they're good people'?" 

"Good point," she pulled her lips together in a straight line. "They're weird." 

The shuffling through clothes stopped, which meant Nami found something. Except, it wasn't for her, but for the swordsman who caught the caramel silky shirt that was thrown into his lap. 

The witch let out another long exhale and closed her eyes. She hoped she could ground herself in a way or another, despite the unhelpful air surrounding the entire house. It was suffocating and it felt as if there was a heavy press on the crown of her chest, making it hard to breathe. 

Seconds passed and the only thing she found in the depths of her thoughts was doubt and uncertainty. Nothing felt right, but she couldn't point out exactly what gave off that kind of aura. Slowing down her breathing didn't help either. 

By the time she gave up and huffed, Nami and Luffy were out of the room. She saw the glimpse of a red silky dress pooling around someone's legs. Said person was Nami, surely. 

A dress. Maybe it would be easier to hide a knife in her thigh holster. 

"You're staring at these cards like you're gonna find out something, but I doubt you found anything," Zoro got her attention. 

Once again, her fingers gripped at the strands of hair. Putting her confusion into words left a lump in her throat. 

"I don't know what's going on and it's annoying. I don't have time for life lessons."

"Going on with what?"

"This entire mansion, maybe?" she looked at him. 

His gaze made her skin tingle and she didn't know if she welcomed that foreign sensation or not. Everytime he talked, he managed to get her out of her thoughts, and she was both grateful and angry about it. For some reason, his stoic personality was safe in that maze. 

"The butler is hiding something, that I know for sure," she whispered this time. "I never saw him, but something doesn't feel right at all. Protecting Kaya? It sounds like bullshit to me, Zoro."

She was stubborn about the opinion she has of that man and maybe it was wrong, but did she really care? 

The swordsman didn't expect the sound of his name rolling off her tongue to stir something inside of him. It almost stung, her voice craving words in languages he's never spoken on his ribs. He paid attention, even if on a normal day he wouldn't listen to superstitions and the words of a probably insane witch. 

Except it sounded like she was the most sane of them all. 

"It probably won't make sense for you, but he's lying about something. He's not just a butler," she continued after glancing back at the cards. "He's fooling everyone and he's doing it well. This isn't what I'm actually concerned about — there's another lie I can't point out. The cards don't help. It feels like I'm being deceived, but for a good reason."

"By who?"

"I don't know. Or maybe I just want to avoid the answer."

She always hated her suspicious nature, the way her trust could be gained only by a few, and all of these people have been gone for years. She shouldn't be like that, it would be better if she'd have some faith in the people around her, if she'd allow herself to believe in them and their words. The ability to trust was a desire — something she wanted, but didn't have. 

Zoro's body tensed and his frown deepened when he realized she was suspicious about one of them. At the same time, her attitude didn't match up because she seemed to despise her own suspicions. 

Why was he so concerned about her? Yeah, right, he has no clue. Amazing. Perfect. 

"I hate this," she muttered under her breath. 

The witch put all of her cards in the deck and threw it on a chair after she stood up. Her eyes fell on the variety of clothes and she wondered what the fuck she was doing there in the first place. 

Why was she there? She didn't promise to stay with Luffy. She had the opportunity to remain in Syrup Village for a while and then leave, just like every time. What was she doing in that mansion, looking at too many clothes hung in a huge room? 

"Aren't you also gonna change?" she said without turning towards him. 

"Do you even trust us?"

The question had the same effect as the tight embrace she was pulled into a few hours ago. Her breath hitched and she hesitated, fingers clutching at the material of her dressing gown. 

The truth was other than what she thought of this entire time; yes. Yes, she did, and that was the most dangerous situation of them all. 

"I wish I didn't," she whispered. 

It was inexplicable, the faith she had in humanity after meeting Luffy. She would clutch at her heart and talk about how humans don't deserve her trust, she would talk for hours about how mischievous people are, that they adore taking advantage of others. 

So it was normal to despise that feeling of longing, the desire to get attached to people, the need for a connection. It was normal to fear a bad ending and it was even worse that she thought such a thing couldn't happen anymore. 

That was why the tarot cards confused her. They told a story different from the one her soul knew. What betrayal? What secret? Who was in pain they couldn't express? And why did she get the feeling that it wasn't exactly betrayal? 

Her answer probably satisfied Zoro, since he got up from the chair and took a black suit he noticed minutes ago. He didn't say a word, but his shoulders were relaxed again. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The witch was the last one to arrive downstairs, in a room that seemed like a living. She found it uncomfortable to wear a dress in a house filled with strange people, since it held her speed back and it wouldn't be exactly easy to defend herself. She opted for a dress she could move in, only squeezing her waist and chest, fluttering around her knees. It was long enough to hide a knife in her thigh holster. Getting discovered wasn't on her to-do list, but she had to ensure her own safety. 

While she changed, her mind wandered… would any of them help if something happened? Her guess was that yes, they'd jump into action. 

Without noticing, after she walked down the stairs, she gravitated close to the swordsman. She was with her back at one of her comrades, never out in the open, sharp eyes scanning each corner of the room. The table in the middle was strong, she figured out after she tapped her nail over the surface. If there were guns involved, she could use it as a shield. 

"You should try these!" Luffy spoke with his mouth full of cookies as he looked towards her and Zoro. 

"I have everything I need right here," the green-haired man responded with a smirk. 

There was a glass of cocktail in between his fingers and he took a long gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Only now, the witch took her time to gaze at the expense of his shoulders, the suit fitting him perfectly. Considering how casual he dresses, it was surprising to see that kind of formal attire hugging his body so deliciously. The usual cockiness of his smirk was still present, just like the hand shoved into the pocket of his black suit pants. 

Roronoa Zoro was more attractive than she liked to admit. His sharp jawline and the smallest bump at the base of his nose, the tall stature, those deep brown eyes sparkling in the light of a candelabra — damn, he looked like he'd been sculpted by the gods, despite the lack of belief he had in such almighty beings. The air was tight when she inhaled and she almost felt bad for ogling at him — almost, because the first time she met him, she was busy sweeping the floor with some Marines. 

A feeling of control and steadiness oozed out of him, pulling her closer like a spell. For the briefest moment, her shoulders relaxed at the reminder that she's not alone there, that there are three other people she can put an ounce of trust in. That was the least she could do at that time. 

With her arms crossed loosely over her stomach, the witch watched the interaction between Nami and a businessman — he looked and acted exactly like one, but lacked the mischief. 

She missed the glance the swordsman threw at her, a look that lasted for too long to be friendly, but short enough to miss it. No, he thought to himself before taking another gulp of the liquor in his glass. He doesn't have time to indulge into such things. 

The witch sighed at her own observations; she should unwind for a little while. She picked another glass of cocktail that was on the table and sipped, furrowing her eyebrows. 

"It's sweet," she mumbled, surprised after licking her lips. 

"Don't confuse sweetness for how strong it is," Zoro chuckled. 

That simple sound made her heart skip a beat or two, bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pitch of her stomach. 

"Beginner's mistake, I suppose," she shrugged. 

Too bad she wasn't exactly a beginner. 

The talkative Usopp and Luffy stopped, which caught her attention; these two were the loudest people she's ever met in her entire life. Kaya was walking down the stairs, her slim arms curled around one of Klahadore's — the butler. 

Only now, the witch took her time and looked at her. The pastel pink dress drained the life out of that girl, as if her pale skin didn't do that enough. Her cheeks were sunk and her smile seemed fragile like glass. She still remembers the cough that ripped through Kaya's lungs like an old knife. 

Usopp looked at her as if he saw his dream before his eyes. He was love-struck. 

The witch smiled at the realization. A puzzle so easy to solve.

The only thing Luffy loved as much as his dream and crewmates was food. Behind the door where the stairs ended, there was a big table filled with too many plates to count and a variety of dishes. His eyes sparkled as if there was gold. 

A simple minded person, indeed, and maybe that was for the best. 

She couldn't rest. She was on high alert, her heart beating faster each time her eyes glanced over at the butler. The fork in between her fingers stabbed the meat in her plate once in a while, but the knot in her stomach was difficult to undo. The only reason why she managed to remain steady was the swordsman who sat to her left and — by some powers bestowed by the gods — felt steady and safe. His presence pulled her back to reality, stealing her attention. The witch has never been more glad not to be alone. 

"We wanted to talk with you about a ship," Luffy said with a big smile on his face. 

"Right," Kaya smiled back, letting her fork down. "Usopp told me you are sailors."

"We aren't sailors, we are pirates."

Damn it, Luffy! 

The witch gulped, squeezing her eyes shut at their captain's excitement. This was about to end very badly. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The dinner ended abruptly. Kaya had a coughing fit and she wasn't feeling well, meanwhile, the butler blamed it on Luffy, who got on the table and had an entire speech. They weren't welcome there anymore and were supposed to leave at the first hour in the morning. 

The witch found each opportunity not to be alone, aware it wouldn't be in her advantage in case something happened. When she saw Nami head back to their guest room, the witch followed her. She needed to change out of that dress into something she could run and fight in, like her usual clothes. 

After locking the door behind her, she looked at Nami who was already slipping her arms out of the sleeves of that beautiful red dress. 

"I didn't get to tell you that you look stunning in that, by the way. Definitely the best choice," the witch mumbled as she averted her eyes to offer some privacy. 

"Not really the moment to talk about dress up, is it?"

"I know, but some compliments wouldn't hurt anyone, right?"

Wrong, apparently, since Nami stilled in her tracks. The witch decided to sit in silence for a while, while she changed from the dress as well, pulling on a plain t-shirt and some comfortable jeans she tucked into her boots. 

The woman was aware of Nami who was moving behind her, now holding a pillowcase in between her fingers. It was clear she tried to move fast and leave the room before she could be noticed. 

"Wanna be petty towards that rude butler?" 

"It's not like anyone would notice. She's filthy rich," Nami mumbled through gritted teeth, disappointed about being caught. "Do you have eyes at the back of your head, by any chance?"

"Nope," the witch accentuated the p sound. "Just associating the rustling with the source." 

"Did you eat some kind of sensory devil fruit?"

"Got born with it," the woman joked lightly. 

Only then, she turned towards Nami, who stood tall, head tilted towards her. The witch was convinced about the suspicion she had while doing that tarot reading, but this time there wasn't a turmoil in her chest. The thunderstorm stopped, despite the clouds still covering the sky of her mind. 

"Be careful roaming around with a pillowcase in your hand. We'll get in trouble if anyone catches us, especially the staff. They're creepy as hell."

"The girl hissed at me," Nami scoffed. 

"Gods," the witch placed her hand on her forehead and shook her head. "Do you have any guesses about where the others might be?"

"Zoro drank like two bottles of alcohol, so I'll suppose he's searching for more."

The witch smiled softly at the response, despite the fact that she missed the undertone of Nami's answer. 

"Don't tell me you were curious about Luffy or, worse, Usopp."

"Hm?" 

An intelligent retort. The witch gulped down and looked away, biting at the inside of her cheek. 

"I mean, Luffy gets himself in trouble all the time, it's not hard to find him."

"Are you acting stupid with me?" 

Nami was grinning like the devil itself. Dammit, did she really have to be so observant? 

"I'm pretty aware I'm smart, actually, so I don't get where this comes from," the witch whispered. 

There was a hue pink covering her cheeks and she was fidgeting with her fingers behind her back, doing all of these gestures unconsciously. She felt like an idiot at that moment, she had to admit. 

Then, as if lightning struck her, she widened her eyes for a brief second. She didn't even know why she was there, in that mansion, surrounded by strangers she wanted to put her trust into. 

"What are you thinking of?" Nami asked. 

"None of us promised to become a crew," she shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

The navigator narrowed her eyes at the witch whose shoulders fell, the shyness she felt earlier deflating. 

"It looks like it matters to you, though."

"That's exactly why I'm saying it," she smiled sourly. "Gotta make myself believe otherwise." 

Silence stretched between the two of them. Two women who had stories and feelings to hide knew when to stop from asking questions, even if it would end up bloody later. It was clear both of them wanted to avoid sensitive subjects, even if the witch barely noticed when Nami started being the interrogator. 

"Be careful, Nami," the witch smiled at her sincerely. "Usopp may be good at bluffing, but I'm better at playing the innocent. If you need someone to gaslight the shit out of the butler, just tell me."

I know what you do is wrong, but I believe you'll make a wise decision by the end of this all. I believe in your reasoning and I hope you can put your trust in me as well. 

"Noted," and with that, the navigator left the room. 

The witch almost got lost in that labyrinth again. She wanted to go to the kitchen, place where Luffy most probably was, but maybe she walked down a bit too many stairs and headed to the wrong side of the mansion. 

She saw a tall figure in the dark basement where barrels full of wine were arranged with utmost care. She furrowed her eyebrows when she saw Klahadore standing in the way, making one step back. Face to face with him was Zoro, who was ready to draw his sword out of its scabbard, but he quickly got hit in the back of his head by someone.

The witch's eyes widened, but she received the same treatment by someone who managed to sneak behind her back. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Her head ached, sending daggers all the way to her forehead. The witch let out a guttural groan and her hand flew to her nape, caressing the sore spot.

When her eyes opened, she was greeted by the dead body of Merry, the business man she noticed at the dinner. She flinched, scrambling to her feet, which wasn't an intelligent idea. Her vision blurred black and she felt dizzy, suddenly unsteady. If not for Zoro's grip on her arms, she would've fallen ungraciously on her butt. 

"What the heck?" she mumbled. 

After a few seconds that felt a bit too long, she couldn't understand exactly why it was so cold in that place. Her chin tilted back so she could look up at the night sky. 

They were at the bottom of a well. 

"We have to get out," Zoro spoke in a gruff voice. 

He sighed heavily and let go of the witch, while she looked at him with the face of are you fucking serious? 

"How?" she spoke without thinking. 

After a failed attempt to escape by using a long rope with a big hook attached to it, she tried using her short knives to stick the blades in between the rocks; it didn't work either. 

There was only one option left and she was speechless. 

Her heart sank when she watched Zoro grip at the rocks. He was strong, yes, definitely stronger than her on the physical side, but what if he couldn't climb up? What if he would fall? 

Then I'd catch him. We either die here together or we get out together. 

Her mind was set. She watched him carefully, gulping when she watched him struggle. His weight might do some damage if she dared to be reckless enough to catch him, but he was the only one who could climb those rocks. If she would've tried, she'd surely fall.

Just like she supposed, his fingers didn't grip well enough at one of the rocks and his feet slipped. He lost his equilibrium and wasn't fast enough to clutch onto another rock or stabilize his foot in time, and he fell back. 

Maybe that witch was more reckless than anyone would've guessed. On top of it, she was selfless enough to believe that if he managed to get out and get help, it didn't matter what happened later, so she tried her best to mitigate the impact.

She was right — air got knocked out of her lungs when his body fell on top of hers and she groaned, but at least he didn't break some ribs. Her arms were wrapped around his waist and her fingers clutched at his shirt. Pain traveled through her body quickly and didn't disappear, but the adrenaline paid off. 

"Are you alright?" she asked him in a hurry. 

"You're insane," Zoro concluded, exasperated. 

His back was glued to her chest and he tilted his head to the side to look at her. Maybe, for once, he was right about her. 

"I'd rather break one of my ribs. You're the only one who can get us out," she argued with a frown between her eyebrows. 

The witch looked away and blinked. She didn't want to focus on how hot the air felt, despite the bone chilling cold in that tight space. The butterflies in her stomach could be ignored if she gathered enough self control in time. 

However, Zoro didn't move. He seemed troubled, completely out of it as he continued to look up at the night sky with a scowl on his face. His entire body was tense and he was deep down in his thoughts, especially since he didn't move a finger since he disagreed with her idea of "helping". 

As if struck by lightning, he got back up, following the same steps from earlier. 

"Be careful." 

He stopped in his tracks right after his fingers gripped at some rocks. 

"Move away if I fall again."

"I won't move and you won't fall." 

It pushed him at the edge, mingling with the memories flowing through his mind about his long lost friend, about the girl whose strength he admired so greatly it made him move again. For a brief second, he thought of himself as a coward for overthinking the process. He either got out alive and managed to get her out as well, or they were both doomed — there was no in between. 

Steadily, a tad bit slower than before, he climbed up the wall. His body ached at the effort when he was more than half way through and he would stop for a few seconds before making another move, clutching at another rock that would get him higher. 

Despite being so low, several meters under the ground, her trust in him didn't waver. Her heart squeezed with worry, but she wanted to follow her instinct and how much she believed in him, even if it was unusual. Maybe it was because of his stubbornness, since if he was set on something, there was no way of stopping him. 

He lost his equilibrium for a fraction of a second. Her breath hitched, eyes widening, his name stopping on the tip of her tongue. 

His foot slipped and some dust fell to the bottom of the well, next to her. She breathed out in relief when he was quick enough to grip at another rock. 

The witch didn't doubt him one bit when he finally got out of the well. He kept the rope he found in the well at his waist while he climbed up, so he could help her get out too. 

From up there, Zoro held tightly onto the rope, just as tightly as she did, even if her fingers hurt and she didn't exactly trust her body to be strong enough. She gripped at the cord and climbed the stone wall, gritting her teeth whenever it seemed like she might fall.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.  

It was a slow process, which was worrisome from her perspective. She advanced, but the longer she struggled, it felt endless. 

For the record, she believed in Zoro more than she believed in herself — she didn't have low self-esteem either. 

"Look up," he reminded her firmly. 

He prompted his feet into the ground and held tightly, waiting for her. 

"Trying," she mumbled to herself. 

Slowly, she got closer and closer to the exit. Zoro bent his torso and curled his fingers around her forearm, managing to help her out. 

"Fuck," she cursed. 

Her breath was labored and she was sweating heavily, a droplet falling from her temple to her jaw and down her neck. She let herself on the grass, her arm still in his hand. 

"I owe you my life," she breathlessly mumbled. 

Unconsciously, her fingers were clutching onto his arm for support, even if her knees trembled from the tumult she went through. 

"We have time for that later," he brushed it off. "We have to find the others." 

"That butler isn't new to killing people who stand in his way. We better hurry before he chops us off." 

"His name is Kuro. He was the captain of the Black Cat Pirates and supposedly died three years ago, when Axe-Hand Morgan killed him — the Marine Captain we encountered back in Shell Town."

The swordsman kept his grip firm on her, carefully bringing her back to her feet while he talked. 

"I saw his face on a wanted poster some time ago, but since he was presumed dead, no one cared anymore."

"He looked very much alive to me," the witch retorted. 

"I was with Usopp when I went to get wine and he managed to escape from the butler. Maybe he went to search for help, even if I doubt any untrained person could harm these pirates. Luffy was in the kitchen, eating some weird blue food." 

Zoro let go of her and walked in the opposite direction of the mansion and she looked at him confused.  

"Oi, Zoro, the house is the other way—"

Then, when she looked at the path that went through the forest surrounding the mansion, she felt a pull towards it. She furrowed her eyebrows and continued staring.

"You go that way. Nami is surely still inside."

"You just said I went in the opposite direction, though?" Zoro arched his eyebrow at her. 

"Usopp searched for help, but if we think about it, Kaya said he has a lot of stories to tell. He's bluffing a lot, even if with no bad intentions. Maybe he found someone — if there's no sign of life on the path, come back."

"And you?" 

"I'll find Nami and Kaya somehow." 

Zoro didn't believe in superstitions and higher beings, but he trusted her instinct, so he headed the other way. The witch opened the door slowly, making no sounds. She slipped inside and looked around for an insane pirate who hisses — these two were creepy. 

The young woman flinched when all the light suddenly disappeared and behind her, a heavy metal wall met the floor, stopping everyone from moving in or out of there. Fuck. 

She gripped with both of her hands at the daggers she held at her hip, holding them securely. With slow steps, the witch made her way through the house. The big candelabrum hanging from the ceiling marked the way to enter and leave the house. To the left was the kitchen and to her right was the living room. The guest rooms and dormitories were upstairs. She still remembers which one was her room for the might and the bathroom. 

If she didn't want to die there, she had to quickly figure that place out. 

She heard one single step from the stairs and her attention shot up. Sham looked at her perplexed, but grinned widely. 

"You were supposed to be dead, little mouse."

"Don't confound me with your food," the witch held the knives tighter. 

Instantly, the woman jumped at her with a mop in her hands. The witch dodged the attack with a knife and the one that followed, bending her knees to avoid getting hit again. She tried to cut Sham's leg with her knife, but the maid was fast, jumping back in time. 

Zoro, if you get lost on the way back, I'll wake up from the dead and kill you, she thought to herself. 

"Captain Kuro will kill Kaya tonight and there's nothing you can do to stop him." 

Sham's wooden mop clashed against the witch's dagger and avoided the knife which almost sunk into her shoulder. Sham attempted to make her fall by kicking her legs, but the witch made a light jump before she could fall. 

It would draw attention to her and the cook might appear out of nowhere, but the witch sheathed one of the knives and pulled a pistol, aiming at the hissing woman. 

"I'm too fast for your shitty guns, girl."

Yeah, sure. It was her time to grin at Sham. 

Her eyes followed each of the maid's movements, moving her arm just in time to shoot her side. Sham was lucky enough to move out of the way, but the next bullet scarred her upper arm, another hiss leaving her lips. 

"Fuck."

Aw, the kitty was angry. 

The witch widened her eyes when she saw Sham pull a sword that seemed more suited for decor. She had to dodge the next attack, the blade almost touching her neck when she stopped it with her knife. 

"Hey, Sham, do you need some help?" 

The witch gulped at the new voice. It was the cook. 

"I don't really think so." 

The witch jumped back before her neck got cut, breathing heavily. She had to block other attacks while she attempted to find a weak spot, an opening to shoot and do it well. 

The witch groaned when the blade left a deep and clean slice on her left upper arm. It stretched horizontally on the side. The shock almost paralyzed her and blood was quick to flow down her arm. 

She tossed a knife through the air, the tip sinking straight into Sham's right arm. 

A weight sound caught her attention and she turned her head towards the metal wall behind her that was slowly being lifted up by strong arms. Who the fuck could—

Oh, right. They had a bulky swordsman as part of the crew. 

"Took you long enough," the witch muttered through gritted teeth. 

Luffy bent down and smiled at her widely. 

"Sorry for that."

"Keep apologies for later. Go after Kuro — he wants to kill Kaya." 

Zoro followed the straw hat, straightening his back when he got inside. His eyes narrowed when he saw the crimson liquid covering the witch's arm, drawing his swords out. He could use the adrenaline pumping through his veins against the man who launched an attack at him. 

"Go, Luffy. We'll keep these two occupied," he instructed. 

The scent of blood filled the witch's nostrils. She aimed the gun at Butchy and the bullet flew right next to his ear, stopping him from hitting the swordsman. Sham was bold for taking the knife out of her arm and running towards the witch with the weapon in her hold. The witch stumbled and her back glued the floor, both her hands gripping harshly at Sham's arm, stopping the tip of the knife a few centimeters above her eyes. 

"You little bitch," the pirate hissed at her. 

The witch kicked the maid into the stomach with her knee, pushing her off of her. Luffy disappeared and the sound of blades clashing against each other filled the room. 

Zoro used raw strength whenever he attacked Butchy, his swords almost cutting through the man with swift gestures of the wrist, elbows angled perfectly. He had more fighting experience than her and it showed, so she was more than just happy not to get sliced in half by the other two. 

She cussed when she remembered she had only one revolver, the other one left in the room. She had three bullets left. 

Her head got cloudy when she quickly got back to her feet, her breathing labored. She was tired and the only reason why she ignored her bleeding wound was the adrenaline. 

This time, when Sham attacked with the mop, the witch only moved to the side and took advantage of the opportunity to cut with the knife through the flesh, the tip sinking deeper and deeper into the maid's stomach, until her body went limp. 

The witch let Sham fall to the floor and stepped back. She felt her pulse pump through her head, slowing her down. She tried to focus on breathing evenly and eventually not passing out. 

She heard a loud thump — the cook was down and Zoro sheathed his swords. He didn't break a sweat, or so it looked from her blurry perspective. 

A sound rang through the air sharper than her daggers and it lit her on fire. The sound of her name being spoken with worry latched onto Zoro's voice. 

He walked down two or three stairs at once, undoing the bandana from his head and wrapping it around her wound. She hissed when he knotted the material tightly in order to stop the bleeding. 

"Thanks," she whispered, her body still tense. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

"Don't mention it," Luffy smiled widely at Kaya. "We couldn't have let him hurt you or deceive people anymore."

If it wasn't for his rubber body, maybe they wouldn't have gotten out alive, but luck sided with them again. 

"I could never thank you enough, but this is all I can do for you now."

The witch stared at the goat figurehead of the ship Luffy was enamored with. Kaya talked, but the words weren't registering in the woman's ears since a small little creature curled around one of her legs. The black cat mewled sweetly and begged for attention, a luxury it received quickly. The witch crouched down and petted the animal with a smile on her lips, brushing her fingers over the soft fur. The cat purred loudly, rolling on its back and pawing at the woman, greedy for affection. 

"How's your wound?" 

When she lifted her head, her eyes met Zoro's. One of his hands rested on the hilt of his Wado Ichimoji and the other was stuffed into the pocket of his jeans — she learned that was one of his most relaxed stances. 

His bandana was still wrapped around her upper arm and the bleeding stopped long ago. She didn't get the chance to properly clean her arm or tend to the cut, but she felt content. 

"I'll care for it on the ship after we set sail," she said in a soft voice. 

Yes, that was the voice that made his heart hammer in his chest, he remembered. Finally, after a day filled with anxiety and panic, he could watch her shoulders relax, even if he wasn't exactly pleased with her lack of attention. 

"Let's go!" Luffy shouted at them. 

The witch stood up, wincing at the smallest movement of her arm, and that didn't go unnoticed by the swordsman. 

She still avoided his question, he concluded. She said she'll care for the wound, not how it felt. 

He tapped the hilt of his sword repeatedly and took a decision he didn't know if he'll regret later, following close behind her. 

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