#ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I LAST DREW HER SO I WAS EXCITED FOR THIS ONE

[mumpsetc]

for drawing requests + spotify shuffle. Melia hfjone

I'd call it my death But I'll only fade away And I hate to fade alone Now there's only m.e.

M.E. By Gary Numan

[rootedinrevisions]

To the Sky and Back

SUMMARY: After a falling-out with Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, reader tries to piece her life back together, avoiding every place and routine that reminds her of him. But when Bradley faces a high-risk mission, a visit from Natasha "Phoenix" shatters her fragile peace, forcing her to confront the depth of her feelings. With Bradley’s life hanging in the balance, she must decide whether to risk her heart again and let him know just how much he means to her before it's too late. A story of love, loss, and second chances, To the Sky and Back explores the courage it takes to hold on to what truly matters.

A/N: This was a combination of two different asks that I received! One was requested for the prompt and then the other was requesting some angst with Bradley where the angst is a little more prolonged. Thanks to both of the people who sent the request for this in! Hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT: "I'm sorry I'm not the person you want me to be."

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst. Some more angst. And then some fluff.

WORD COUNT: 7.4K

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck hummed with its usual Friday night energy. Glasses clinked, laughter rose in waves, and the jukebox crooned an old Tom Petty song. You sat at the bar, absentmindedly tracing the condensation ring your drink had left on the wooden surface. It had been four months since you’d seen Bradley Bradshaw—four long months of waiting, wondering, and overthinking. You couldn’t decide if the knot in your stomach was from excitement or the growing anxiety about what, exactly, you and Bradley were.

Your heart jolted when you heard it—the unmistakable low rumble of the Bronco’s engine pulling into the parking lot. Your pulse quickened, and you felt every nerve in your body go on high alert. Turning toward the door, you saw him.

There he was. Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, in all his casual, rugged glory. Light wash jeans clung perfectly to his long legs, paired with a simple white undershirt under an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. His aviators, always a part of his signature look, were perched on his face, but as he stepped inside, he slid them off, tucking them into his shirt pocket. The room seemed to dim around him, your focus narrowing solely to the man you’d spent countless nights thinking about.

His eyes scanned the bar, and the moment they found yours, a lazy, lopsided grin spread across his face. He didn’t break eye contact as he ordered his beer from Penny. Then, beer in hand, he made his way to you.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said smoothly, his voice low and warm, like a melody you’d missed without realizing it.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you slid off the stool, your arms wrapping around him instinctively. The tension of the last four months melted—if only for a second—as he looped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you in. He smelled of salt and sunscreen, the lingering scents of the ocean clinging to him.

“Missed you, sweets,” he murmured near your ear.

Your throat tightened at his words, but you forced yourself to play it cool, smiling up at him. “Missed you too.”

For a moment, you were lost in the way he looked at you, the warmth in his hazel eyes making your chest ache. But then, with a slight squeeze of your shoulder, he pulled away.

“I should go say hi to the gang,” he said, gesturing toward the pool table where Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote were gathered. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Of course not,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “Go catch up.”

He gave you another of his disarming smiles before walking off, his long strides carrying him toward his friends. You watched him go, heart sinking slightly as you turned back to the bar. 

The reality of your situation hit you again: you didn’t know where you stood with him, and the months apart hadn’t brought any clarity.

The laughter from his group reached your ears, and you sipped your drink to distract yourself. You wanted to be happy just to see him again, to feel his arm around you, to hear him call you “sweets.” But in the pit of your stomach, the question gnawed at you: What are we?

The night had deepened, and the cool ocean breeze filtered into the bar as the laughter and music continued around you. Bradley had been with his friends for most of the night, his easy smile and quiet laugh lighting up the group. You didn’t begrudge him the time to reconnect, but your heart weighed heavier with every passing minute. You couldn’t wait any longer.

When he came back to the bar to grab another beer, you saw your chance. Before he could return to the others, you touched his arm, stopping him.

“Bradley,” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the jukebox. His hazel eyes met yours, warm but questioning. “Can we talk? Just for a minute.”

His brows knitted slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

You gestured toward the patio doors. He hesitated for a beat, then set his beer down and followed you outside. The night outside was quieter than inside the bar, the faint crash of waves filling the space between you. 

Bradley leaned casually against the patio railing, but there was tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a moment ago. He seemed almost hesitant as he met your gaze.

“What’s on your mind, sweets?” he asked, his voice warm, though a flicker of unease crossed his features.

You exhaled deeply, gathering the courage to say the words that had been circling in your mind for months. “I need to talk about us, Bradley. I need to know what we’re doing.”

His expression faltered, confusion laced with discomfort. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “We’ve been doing this for a year. And I’ve been happy—really happy—with you. But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with not knowing where I stand. I need to know if this is going somewhere.”

He shifted his weight, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think we needed to put a label on it,” he said, his tone measured. “I thought we were good.”

“That’s the problem,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “I might have been okay with that before, but I’m not anymore. I want more, Bradley. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. Officially. Exclusively.”

He frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening as he crossed his arms. “I don’t see why we can’t just keep things the way they are. I like what we have. It works.”

“Does it work for you? Because it’s starting to tear me apart,” you shot back, your voice louder now. “I’ve spent the last four months not knowing if I was the person you missed or just someone to pass the time with when you’re here.”

Bradley’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes burning with something between guilt and frustration. “You think I don’t miss you?” he asked sharply. “You think I don’t care about you?”

“I don’t know what to think, Bradley!” you admitted, throwing your hands up. “You never tell me how you feel, and you keep everything so damn vague. I don’t even know if you’ve been with anyone else, because we’ve never talked about it!”

His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I haven’t been with anyone else. It’s only been you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, but it didn’t ease the tension coiled tightly inside you. “Then why can’t you just say it? Why can’t you call me your girlfriend?”

“Because it scares the hell out of me!” he snapped, his voice breaking slightly. He turned away, bracing himself against the railing. “I’ve seen what this life does to people. My dad left my mom behind, and it destroyed her. I can’t—” He exhaled roughly, his broad shoulders rising and falling. “I can’t do that to someone. To you.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You think you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length? You think it doesn’t hurt to feel like I’m asking for too much just to be something more to you?”

He turned back to you, his hazel eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’m not the person you want me to be.”

His words cut deep, and a tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You swiped at it angrily, stepping back. “I’m sorry, too. Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending this is enough.”

“Wait,” he said quickly, reaching for your hand. “Don’t go. Please. We can talk about this—figure something out.”

You shook your head, pulling your hand away. “We’ve been ‘figuring it out’ for a year, Bradley. I can’t keep waiting for you to decide I’m worth the risk.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice breaking. He stepped closer, desperation flickering in his eyes. “You are worth it—I just—”

“You just don’t know if you’re ready to admit it,” you finished for him, your voice trembling. “And I can’t keep waiting for you to be ready.”

The silence between you was deafening. He looked at you like he wanted to say something—anything—that would make you stay, but the words never came.

Finally, you turned and walked away, tears blurring your vision. 

“Wait!” Bradley called after you, his voice raw. “Let me at least drive you home. Please.”

You stopped but didn’t turn back. 

“No,” you said firmly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t follow me, Bradley.”

As you reached the parking lot, Jake Seresin stood leaning against his truck, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. When your tear-streaked face came into view, his expression softened.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Can you drive me home?” you asked, wiping at your cheeks. “Just drop me off and come back.”

Jake nodded, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere in sight. He opened the passenger door for you without a word, and you climbed in.

As Jake’s truck rumbled to life, you glanced back. Bradley stood on the patio, his hands on his hips, his face a mix of heartbreak and confusion. The sight of him cracked something deep inside you, but you forced yourself to look away as Jake pulled out of the parking lot.

The weight of what had just happened settled heavily on your chest, and for the first time in months, you felt the full brunt of the unknown you’d been living with.

The hum of Jake’s truck filled the silence as you stared out the passenger window, the cool night air brushing against your face from the barely cracked window. You gave him quiet directions when needed, your voice soft and distant. Jake didn’t press, didn’t ask what had happened right away, and for that, you were grateful.

But the silence couldn’t last forever.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked finally, his voice even but cautious.

You shook your head, your eyes still fixed on the darkened streets. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Jake glanced at you briefly, the furrow of his brow barely visible in the dim light of the dashboard. “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” he said carefully. “You looked pretty torn up back there.”

Your jaw tightened, and you exhaled sharply through your nose. “I’m fine,” you said, though the crack in your voice betrayed you.

Jake didn’t push, but he wasn’t ready to let the conversation drop entirely. After a moment, he said, “You know, Rooster talked about you while we were deployed.”

Your head turned sharply toward him, your stomach twisting. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jake said casually, his hands steady on the wheel. “Nothing too specific, but… you came up. Enough to know you were on his mind.”

The words stung more than they soothed. If you’d been on his mind, if he’d thought about you during those long months apart, then why couldn’t he just give you what you needed? Why couldn’t he make things official?

“Great,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “That makes it so much better.”

Jake glanced at you again, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Look, I’m just saying… the guy cares about you. He might not say it the way you want, but he does.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Caring about someone isn’t enough if you can’t show it. If he cared, he wouldn’t make me feel like I’m asking for too much just to have some clarity.”

Jake didn’t have a response for that, and the silence returned, heavy and thick.

A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of your place. The truck idled quietly as you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice softer now.

“Anytime,” he replied, his tone sincere. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

You nodded, though the tightness in your chest said otherwise. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Jake didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll wait till you’re inside,” he said, his voice firm but kind.

You gave him a small, grateful smile before stepping out of the truck. The cool night air hit your face, grounding you for a moment as you made your way to your front door. You fumbled with your keys, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside.

As you turned to shut the door, you glanced back at Jake. He gave you a short nod before driving off, his truck disappearing into the night.

The quiet of your home wrapped around you as you leaned against the door, your chest tightening with the weight of everything that had happened.

For the first time in a long time, you felt completely alone.

The silence of your home was interrupted by the sharp buzz of your phone on the counter where you’d dropped it. You hesitated before picking it up, already guessing who it might be.

The screen lit up with Bradley’s name. The first message was simple, almost hesitant.

Bradley: Just let me know when you’re home safe.

You stared at it for a moment, your chest tightening. A second buzz followed.

Bradley: Can we talk? Please?

Then another.

Bradley: I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just—I didn’t know how to handle it.

And another.

Bradley: You can put the label on it. Whatever you want. I don’t care. Just… don’t shut me out.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing with each buzz. His words were frantic, almost desperate, but that only made the ache in your chest deepen.

He didn’t want the label because he wanted it. He wanted it because he thought it would keep you from walking away. That wasn’t what you’d asked for. You wanted him to want you, fully and without hesitation. But this? This was him trying to patch things up without really understanding what had broken.

The phone buzzed again, another message lighting up the screen.

Bradley: I care about you. You know that, right?

You sat down on the edge of the couch, the weight of everything settling heavily on your shoulders. Your thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to respond.

But you didn’t. Not to this. Not to him trying to fix things for the wrong reasons.

Instead, you set the phone down on the coffee table, face down, and leaned back, closing your eyes. If he really wanted to know you were home safe, he could ask Jake. The thought was petty, maybe even cruel, but right now, you don’t have the energy to be the bigger person.

You needed space. Time to think. And if Bradley wanted to prove he cared, he’d have to do more than send a flurry of panicked texts.

Your bedroom was dark except for the soft glow of a streetlight filtering through the curtains. You kicked the door shut behind you, your chest heaving with the weight of unshed tears.

Stripping off the shirt and jeans you’d worn to the bar, you rifled through your drawer for something comfortable. You yanked out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, tugging it over your head in a rush to get comfortable.

The scent hit you before the realization. That faint mix of salt air, pine, and his cologne.

Your heart plummeted.

It was his shirt.

You froze, staring down at the faded Navy insignia printed across the chest. A lump rose in your throat, thick and unrelenting. Without thinking, you ripped it off, balling it up in your fists.

The scream tore from your throat, raw and full of anguish as you hurled the shirt across the room. It smacked against the wall and slid to the floor like it had no right to exist, like it hadn’t just unraveled you completely.

"I hate you," you whispered, your voice trembling as you sank to your knees. "I hate you, Bradley Bradshaw."

But even as the words spilled from your lips, you knew they weren’t true.

You hated the way he made you feel. The way he held you so close but never close enough. You hated the way he smiled at you, like you were the only person in the room, and the way your heart betrayed you by falling for him.

You hated that you weren’t enough for him.

Tears streamed down your face as you pressed your palms into the carpet, curling over yourself. He wouldn’t put a label on it to protect you, but what good did that do now? You were already in too deep. The dates, the late-night conversations, the stolen kisses, and the nights spent tangled in his sheets—none of it had been casual for you.

God, you were in love with him.

The sob broke free before you could stop it, wracking your body as you crawled onto your bed. You grabbed your pillow, clutching it against your chest as if it could anchor you, and let the tears fall.

It hurt. It hurt because the label didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Whether he called you his girlfriend or not, it wouldn’t stop the fear you felt every time he flew. It wouldn’t protect you from heartbreak if he didn’t come back.

And yet, the label was everything. Because it meant he chose you. It meant he wasn’t holding back, wasn’t keeping you at arm’s length because of his own fear.

The pillow muffled your cries as you curled into the fetal position, trembling from the force of your grief. You hated him, but only because you loved him so much more.

The light from the morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting warm, golden hues across the room. You woke with a start, blinking against the brightness, your head heavy from the weight of last night’s tears. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, the remnants of your sobs still echoing in your mind, the sting in your throat lingering.

You sat up slowly, the tightness in your chest reminding you of how broken you had felt when you finally gave in to the exhaustion and let sleep claim you. You hadn’t expected to wake up with this much pain still sitting in your bones. The weight of everything felt heavier today, more unbearable.

Then you heard it.

A knock.

A sharp, insistent pound against your front door.

You flinched, the sound jerking you from your thoughts. Your gaze flicked to the alarm clock on your nightstand. Barely eight in the morning. Who would be knocking at your door this early? You pulled the blanket off your body and swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the dull ache in your limbs from the previous night’s emotional rollercoaster.

With trepidation, you padded down the hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet. Your mind raced with thoughts of what could be waiting for you on the other side of the door.

You reached for the handle, taking a deep breath before opening it.

And there he was.

Bradley Bradshaw.

Standing there, one hand raised in the midst of another knock, his eyes wide, full of uncertainty and something else. Something deeper. His jaw tightened when he saw you, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with the unspoken.

He was still in the clothes he’d worn to the bar last night, like he hadn’t bothered going home first. His expression was a mixture of regret and frustration, but there was something else too—guilt, maybe. Or maybe it was just that damned vulnerability that had always been so hard to read with him.

“Hey,” Bradley’s voice was softer than you expected, rough around the edges, like he’d barely slept.

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes flicking over his face, searching for something. What did he expect from you right now?

You weren’t sure you even had the energy to be angry with him. The night before had drained you, and the last thing you wanted was to face him again.

“I… uh, I wanted to talk.” His voice cracked, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You stood there, frozen, still not sure if you were ready to hear what he had to say. Last night had hurt too much, and you weren’t sure if you were willing to put yourself through more of it.

But, against your better judgment, your mouth opened. “About what?” You didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but the words slipped from your lips, laced with a bitter edge.

Bradley shifted his weight, his eyes dropping to the ground for a brief moment before meeting yours again. There was something desperate in his gaze now, something that mirrored the pain you’d felt last night.

“I screwed up. I know I did.” He spoke like he hadn’t planned the words but they’d come out anyway, raw and real. “I just… I didn’t think you’d want a label, but I get it now. I see that I’ve been messing this up for both of us.”

Your chest tightened. The familiar ache in your heart was back, that throbbing reminder of how close you were to breaking. He was standing there, telling you everything you needed to hear, but it didn’t change the fact that it was too late.

“I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t want, but if I’m being honest… I don’t want to lose you.” His voice softened, and there was a flicker of something that could almost be called regret. But the words didn’t feel right. They didn’t feel like they were coming from the heart. They felt like something he was saying out of guilt.

The silence stretched between you. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, feel the weight of the decision that had to be made in the pit of your stomach.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. It was all too much, too soon.

Bradley stepped closer, closing the space between you, his expression pleading now, vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache. 

“I want this with you, I do. But I—” He stopped himself, breathing out like the words were caught in his throat.

You looked at him, really looked at him. You could see the cracks in his façade, the uncertainty that was so unlike the confident man you knew. But even with that vulnerability laid bare, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all just words.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Bradley,” you whispered, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t want to be some maybe or could be. I need to know where I stand.”

Bradley’s face fell, his lips parting as if he were about to say something else. But nothing came. He just stood there, looking at you like he was piecing together what he should say next.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and for the first time, you saw the true weight of regret in his eyes.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the emotions that threatened to spill over again. “I don’t think you are, Brad. Not really.”

The air between you both thickened, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, you stepped back, closing the door gently in his face.

You leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you heard his footsteps retreat, his presence now a memory.

You were alone again.

And maybe that was how it was always meant to be.

* * * * *

The days dragged on in a haze of quiet frustration and longing. Each morning you woke, the weight of the night’s emotional unraveling clung to you like a second skin. The sun would shine through your window, the world would move forward, but you felt paralyzed by your own hurt, by the thought of Bradley, by the pain of what could have been and what never would be.

You tried to get yourself back on track. You tried to act normal, to resume your routine, but everything seemed to remind you of him. His absence was like a wound that wouldn’t heal, reopening with every corner you turned.

The grocery store was the first hurdle. You knew Bradley went every Monday, and it used to be something the two of you did together. It felt like some unspoken tradition, something that was both ordinary and deeply comforting. But now, it just felt like a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. So you avoided it, switching your shopping day to Tuesday. Even though you knew he wouldn’t be there, the thought of running into him in that same mundane space, where everything felt like a memory, was too much to bear.

The Hard Deck was the next obstacle. The bar where you’d spent so many nights with him, the place where you laughed, argued, and shared quiet moments between chaos. You knew there was more than a 50% chance Bradley was there any given night. The bar, the music, the dim lighting that you once enjoyed felt suffocating now. You could hear his laugh in your mind, could see the glint of his eyes as he grinned across the room. But you refused to risk seeing him, to risk letting the pieces of your heart shatter again. Even when you drove by a few nights, when his Bronco wasn’t parked in its usual spot, you still didn’t stop. What if he had caught a ride? What if he was inside, and you just didn’t know? You couldn’t take the chance. Not when every interaction with him had the potential to destroy you further.

And the texts… the texts never stopped.

At first, they were constant—his messages coming in one after the other, in a rhythm that mirrored his thinking. Morning, noon, and night. He texted like he couldn’t bear the thought of you not knowing what he was doing, where he was. He sent them as soon as he woke up, like he needed to remind you that he was still thinking about you, even if he hadn’t quite figured it out himself. Those morning messages were the hardest to read, because you knew he hadn’t forgotten you. He was still holding on in his own way, but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t fought for you when it mattered.

And then came the late-night ones. The ones that were sent in the early hours, long after the world had gone quiet. You would wonder if he was sober when he wrote them, or if he had been drinking, a little too far into his own thoughts and regrets. Those messages were the ones that made your heart ache because they felt like half-baked apologies, like words spoken too late. They didn’t fix anything, they just twisted the knife.

But the ones that hurt the most were always in the middle of the day. The ones sent out of habit, when he was about to head into the sky, the ones that used to bring you a sense of safety, a quiet assurance that no matter what, Bradley always had a way of telling you what he was doing. “Hey, I’m headed up. I’ll be in the air for a couple hours, but I’ll let you know when I’m back on the ground.” It was something that had become routine between the two of you. You never asked for it, but you always appreciated it.

Now, those messages made your stomach drop. You hated the anxiety that came with the first text, the one that told you he was headed into the sky. And you hated the sense of relief you felt when the second one came, telling you he was safely back on the ground. It was stupid. It was pathetic. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t stop caring. You couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in your chest, the pull of wanting to make sure he was okay.

And that’s what drove you mad.

You hated that you still cared. You hated that despite everything, despite his distance and his indecision, you couldn’t make yourself stop thinking about him. You couldn’t make yourself forget Bradley Bradshaw.

Even as you tried to rebuild your life, to find new routines, new places, new things to focus on, it all felt like an illusion. Nothing felt normal anymore. Your world had become a strange, hollow echo of what it used to be. And no matter how hard you tried to avoid him, to erase the pieces of him from your day-to-day life, you couldn’t escape the truth.

You were still in love with him. And you were still waiting for him to make a decision.

But you knew you couldn’t wait forever.

You just didn’t know how to stop.

* * * * *

Two months had passed since that early morning when Bradley stood at your door, and in that time, you’d learned to carry on without him. It wasn’t easy—some days were harder than others—but you were slowly learning how to exist without waiting for his texts, without hoping for him to just show up at your door again.

You still thought about him. Not every day anymore, but almost. And that, you decided, was progress. It didn’t feel like much, but it was something. There were days when the memories of his laugh, the warmth of his hand in yours, didn’t sting quite as badly. And then, there were days like today, when the past came rushing back to you in a way you couldn’t avoid.

It was just a knock on your front door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and yet, when you heard it, you knew something was about to change.

When you opened the door, there she was—Natasha "Phoenix," standing in front of you. Her usual confident demeanor was a little softer today, like she was carrying something heavy that she didn’t want to talk about.

"Hey," she said, her voice low but steady. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping aside to let her in. Something about the way she stood at your door made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just the fact that it was her—it was what she was about to say. You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this anxious.

The two of you made your way to the kitchen, where you offered her a drink. She politely declined, settling down at the table. You sat across from her, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

"Everything okay?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure why, but you already had a sinking feeling that you weren’t going to like what was coming.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her eyes meeting yours. "There’s a mission coming up. I can’t tell you much—it’s classified. But I wanted to let you know that Bradley might be flying it."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You knew this was bad. You could feel it.

"Bradley’s been flying high-risk missions for years," Phoenix continued, her voice steady but firm, "but this one is different. This is the most dangerous mission he’ll have flown. The odds… they’re not good. It will take two miracles happening at the same time for him to get home safely."

You couldn’t breathe. You wanted to stop her, to tell her that you didn’t need to know all the details. But you couldn’t. The words had already come, and they were burning through you.

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes serious. "But there’s something else. Something I need to tell you, woman to woman."

You swallowed hard, trying to brace yourself, though you already felt like you were crumbling.

"Bradley hasn’t been flying with a clear head," Phoenix said, her voice dropping to a more quiet, urgent tone. "Not since the last mission. He’s been distracted, pulled in a thousand different directions. And if he doesn’t fly this one with a clear head… I don’t think he’ll make it back."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your chest tighten, the air suddenly impossible to breathe.

Bradley hadn’t been okay. He’d been struggling, and you hadn’t even known. You hadn’t been able to help him, to fix whatever had been broken inside of him. But this… this was worse than anything you had imagined.

You stared at Phoenix, your mind reeling. All you could think about was the possibility—the reality—that Bradley might not come home. You had never imagined a world where that could happen. Where you could lose him forever.

And then it hit you—the realization that it was never just about the label. It was about so much more. About how, no matter how much you wanted to be enough for him, you weren’t the one who had mattered enough to him for him to put everything aside, to fight for you. And that was painful. But the thought of him not coming home? That ripped you apart in ways you didn’t know you could be broken.

"Please," you said, the words breaking through the suffocating silence. "Please tell me he’s going to be okay."

Phoenix didn’t answer immediately, her gaze shifting away as if she was trying to find the right words, the right reassurance. But there was nothing she could say.

"I don’t know," she finally said, her voice so low you could barely hear her. "I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I’m not sure. I don’t know if he’s going to be okay."

The words hung in the air between you, suffocating you in their weight. And all you could do was sit there, trying to grasp onto the fragile threads of hope that felt so far out of reach.

It was the hardest thing you’d ever had to hear. The thought of him not coming home, of him being lost to the sky forever—it made your entire world feel like it was unraveling.

You thought you were past him. You thought you could move on, heal, and put him behind you. But now, all you could think about was the future, the one where you would never get to see him again.

It was too much to bear. And you hated it. You hated that you couldn’t walk away from him, that you couldn’t turn your back on the love you had for him—even if it was unspoken, even if it was unfinished. You hated that you couldn’t fix him, couldn’t make him see you the way you needed him to.

But worse than anything, you hated that you might never get the chance to tell him how much you loved him.

Phoenix’s voice cut through the overwhelming weight of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. "They’re getting on the aircraft carrier at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow," she said, her words steady but carrying a weight you couldn’t ignore. "I’m not asking you to come. I’m not asking you to talk to him. That decision’s up to you."

You felt a lump rise in your throat, the tightness in your chest making it hard to breathe. She wasn’t asking you to go to him, but she wasn’t telling you not to, either. The choice was yours, but it felt more like a trap than an option.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the fridge in the corner. Phoenix didn’t seem to expect anything from you, but you could feel the gravity of the situation pulling you under. You didn’t know what you wanted, what you were supposed to want. All you knew was that Bradley was flying, and there was a real possibility he might not come back.

You swallowed, blinking back the tears that threatened to rise. "Thank you for telling me," you said quietly, your voice betraying the emotional weight you were carrying. "I—I don’t know what to do with this. But I appreciate you coming to me."

Phoenix gave you a nod, her face unreadable. "Just make sure you take care of yourself, alright? Whatever you decide."

You didn’t know what that meant. Taking care of yourself? How were you supposed to do that when the person who had occupied every corner of your mind was potentially flying into danger?

She stood up, her movements deliberate. "I’ll leave you to think about it," she said softly, her tone still serious but warm. "Take your time. But just know, whatever happens tomorrow, you’re not the only one who cares about him."

You nodded, not trusting your voice enough to say anything else.

She left then, and the silence in the room was deafening. The weight of her words, the knowledge of Bradley’s upcoming mission—it all settled like a stone in your stomach. You wanted to scream, wanted to run to him and beg him to stay, to take care of himself, to put everything on hold until he could figure it out. But you didn’t know if that would even make a difference. You didn’t know if anything would.

You sat there for a long while after Phoenix left, staring at the kitchen table as your mind raced, desperately trying to put the pieces together. Could you let him go again? Could you really do it?

Your phone sat on the counter, and you found yourself staring at it, knowing the texts from Bradley would come soon. They always did. But you didn’t reach for it. Not yet. You couldn’t bring yourself to open that door again, to let him back into your heart when you were still so unsure of everything—of what he felt, of what you felt, of whether or not he’d make it home.

And then, as the evening wore on, you found yourself pacing the apartment. You didn’t know what you should do. You didn’t know what to feel. Should you show up tomorrow morning? Should you see him off? Should you do what you’d always done—pretend like everything was fine, like nothing had ever changed? Or should you face the reality of it all, admit to yourself that you might never see him again?

The decision was suffocating. You were pulled in two directions, unsure of what the right choice was. Every part of you ached to see him one last time, to tell him what you had never said. But part of you wondered if you were just chasing something that had already slipped through your fingers.

And so, you sat with it, the uncertainty eating at you, and waited. Tomorrow would come, and with it, the moment when you would have to decide whether you could let him go—or whether you would risk it all to see him one last time.

* * * * *

The morning air was cool, but the nerves gnawing at you kept your body warm as you pulled into the parking lot at 6:15. You wanted to be here early—too early maybe—but you couldn’t take the chance of missing him. It had been two months since you last saw Bradley, and now, you had no choice but to face everything you’d been running from.

The lot began to fill as you sat in your car, watching people say their goodbyes—families, friends, all of them hugging and holding on to each other a little longer than usual. Each goodbye seemed to break something inside you, a reminder of what could be lost, of what you had once had and might not again.

And then you heard it. The familiar rumble of an engine. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced to your right and saw it—the Bronco—pulling in next to you. You didn’t even have to look twice. You knew it was him.

For a split second, your eyes locked through the windshield, the kind of silent exchange that spoke volumes. Neither of you moved for a beat, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like a thick fog.

You didn’t know who moved first, but before you knew it, the car doors opened, and you were walking around the front of the Bronco to where Bradley stood.

There was a long pause, the air between you thick with everything you were both carrying. Your lips parted first.

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words coming out choked and raw. “I’ve been… so messed up, Bradley. I’ve been pushing you away and—” You stopped yourself, your chest tightening as emotion swelled. “I didn’t mean it. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Bradley’s jaw clenched, his gaze turning hard with guilt before he stepped toward you, cutting you off.

“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he said, his voice low but raw, full of regret. “I took you for granted. I lost you.”

The tears you thought you had already shed seemed to fall again at the sound of his words, and before you could stop yourself, you felt the sting of them, hot and sudden, blurring your vision.

His hands were on you then, pulling you into his arms, warm and solid. He was trying to comfort you, but it only hurt more, the realization that he knew—he knew it was his fault. The pain you’d been carrying had finally broken through, and you couldn’t help it. You cried harder into his chest, unable to control it.

Bradley’s arms tightened around you, his own breath shaky as he pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You could feel the way his body shook with something deeper than just the coolness of the morning air.

And then, between sobs, you whispered it—the thing you’d been holding in, the thing you needed him to hear.

"I love you."

There was no hesitation. No stiffening, no pulling away, just him pulling you closer, if that was even possible. 

His voice was rough when he replied, “I love you too, sweets. So damn much.”

The world seemed to stop then, everything else fading into the background as Bradley’s words sank in. The walls you’d built around yourself felt like they were crumbling as the words you’d longed to hear washed over you, finally, finally making everything feel right again.

But even then, the worry gnawed at you, pulling you from the moment. Your voice trembled as you looked up at him, hands gripping his shirt tight, “Come back to me. Please… come back alive.”

His hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. 

“I promise,” he said quietly, and you believed him.

But then, as if the weight of the moment suddenly hit him too, Bradley pulled back just enough to look at you fully. 

There was something in his eyes, something that made your heart beat faster as he asked, “Will you be here when I get back? Will you wait for me?”

You nodded quickly, the answer spilling out of you before you could even think about it. “Yes,” you whispered, breathless. “I’ll be here.”

Bradley’s gaze softened, a hint of relief flashing across his face, and then he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was desperate and filled with everything you both had been holding back for so long. His arms wrapped around you tighter, and before you could process what was happening, his hands were lifting you off the ground, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours.

You heard the whistling before you could think about it, the sound of someone teasing. Maybe it was Jake. Maybe it was Coyote. Maybe even Bob, though it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because all you could feel, all you could think about, was the heat of Bradley’s kiss, the way his arms made you feel safe and wanted, the way he was home in a way nothing else could ever be.

In that moment, there was no question—no more uncertainty, no more fear. You were with him. And that was all that mattered.

[lanalace]

Encompassed [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Fem Reader]

Word count: 5k

Summary: You were never supposed to be an omega and so you decided not to be. As a result, you gained friend, freedom and a life of your own. Everything was going your way until you came face to face with the world's strongest sorcerer.

Chapter 1 - Encounter

“Oi! Y/n-chan!” Itadori yelled, waving to you from across the training grounds.

Y/n sat at the top of the cold stone staircase overlooking the field, looking up from the book in her hands, she spotted Yuji at the opposite end of the field with Nobara and Megumi. Grinning widely, you closed the book and stood up, raised an arm and waved back with the same amount of energy as Yuji.

“Itadori! Kugisaki! Fushiguro!” Y/n yelled.

You could see them smiling at you as they drew nearer. These were your new teammates. You have been working with them for about one month now and you all have gotten pretty close. ‘Well, Fushiguro was definitely a work in progress. Though, to be fair, I don’t think that anyone is actually close to him.’ You thought grimly to yourself as you walked down to greet them. Yuji was the first to greet you with both hands up. You smiled and jumped up to smack both of his hands with your own. It was the way you guys always greeted each other, always with a double hi-five. 

It was really funny how you guys started this routine, actually. It actually started because of a comment he made about how short you were in comparison to the other members of your team. You bristled at that claim and rebuttal that you were in fact plenty tall for your age.  You are 17 years old and still have a bit more time to grow. Itadori being Itadori raised his hand all the way up high as proof of your shortness, daring you to touch it if you were really as tall as you calmed. Of course you couldn’t reach so he decided to make it easier for you, first bringing his hand down to half of its original height next to his head as he goaded you to try hitting him again. But you were pouting at the failed first attempt so he brought another hand up to mirror his other and teased you more, telling you that it would be easier since you had two targets. Still pouting, you couldn’t resist and jump a bit to smack both of them. It made Itadori grin and he earnestly complemented you, lightening your sour mood at the time and you smiled at him.   

“Y/n-chan! Spar with me this time.” He begged with starry eyes.

“Sure.” You smiled at him gently, nodding in confirmation. You could hear Nobara in the background yelling at Itadori because she wanted to be your training partner for the day.

“Woo! Better luck next time, Kugisaki!” Itadori turned and snickered at her before facing you and getting into a fighting stance.

You giggled and shook your head at the pair. They were so silly and always behaved just like siblings. Focusing on the boy in front of you, you tossed your book aside and got into an offensive position.Without hesitation you struck your teammate first. He was caught off guard but managed to just barely block your right hook.

“Don’t look so shocked! You’re the one who wanted to spar but you’re not even paying attention.”  You followed up with a combo move that he easily blocked as well.

Yuji looked like he was serious now, determination shown on his face when he moved to strike back. You both traded blows with him at an impressive speed that your teammates could not match so they sat back and watched you both go at it. Neither one of you were getting the upper hand for very long in the battle but gosh, you were having so much fun! Yuji always gave you a good workout and it was always so exciting. 

You genuinely enjoyed a good fight even before presenting last year. As young as 5, your powers manifested and you were strong. Your parents had been beyond overjoyed when that happened. At such a young and with such raw power, you had such a bright future and you would elevate their social status in the Jujutsu world. So they trained you hard and when they had nothing left to teach you, they sent you here, to school with all of the other sorcerers. They just knew you would be an Alpha. Your overly confident and cocky personality was proof enough but coupled with the immense amount of curse energy you had, there’s no way you could be anything less than that and they treated you with the respect and hardness of one. You easily fell into your roll over the years and believe that you would be an alpha as well.

Your upbringing may have been a bit rougher than you cared to admit, you can’t say you hated all of it. After all, alpha’s didn’t complain so you wouldn’t. Besides, every moment was useful and prepared you for real field work. It gave you the awesome personality trait of being a shit talker. A privilege only allowed to the strong. You adored your parents and thrived under all of their attention so imagine your shock when your attentive parents showed nothing but disdain for your very existence when you finally presented. You were an omega and so they cut ties with you. Abandoning you to the Jujutsu school with nothing but your name and the things you came with. At the very least, you took solace in the fact that your parents never reported you. This small saving grace gave you time and you were grateful for that. You would never scorn your parents because you understood their position.

You were worthless to them now, something they’d have to give up one way or another because according to the law, your kind were to be taken to a secured Omega Center facility immediately after presenting. Whisked away from the outside world and its influences, where they could become easily indoctrinated into proper omega roles. Omega’s were nothing but property to in society.

’Disgusting.’

As an omega, you weren’t meant to fight. In fact, it was illegal for you to even attend this school. ‘But I love to fight and protect the innocent people who cannot fight for themselves.’ You weren’t meant to take risks. ‘But that is my job.’ You weren’t meant to have freedom and make friends with the opposite sex unless they were other omega’s. ‘I really like friends and my sensei. They treat me as an equal, as an individual. They never look down on me.’ You’d be locked away, stripped of everything that was ‘You’ and made to take a mate that would control your every step and force you to have a litter of kids. All that you could do- all you could ever measure up to be was a glorified breeding mare. You would have been a prize to be tamed and pumped full of babies. Nothing more, nothing less. 

‘That’s not the life that I want.’

Discarded and own your own, you unapologetically turned to drugs. Not some low quality trash that would harm you, but something more pure and refined to suit you specifically. Omega Pheromones Blockers or better known as OPB’s. But these were directly from a scientist you stumbled upon. You gave him a blood sample and he tailor made this for you. You thanked the heavens that you were trained to think quickly because the moment you were casted out, it took all but 10 minutes to devise a plan to stay under the radar. Lucky for you that your account was still accessible. You haven been on OPB’s for the last year and to the world, you were just a normal Beta female. Luckily for you, beta's scents were so subtle that it was just barely noticeable. Which is why it is rare for them to attract an Alpha or omega so your almost nonexistent scent went overlooked by everyone. Even if someone did have suspicions, it would become a mere afterthought once they detected your vast amount of curse energy you possessed and that cocky personality of yours. Besides, no omega would be allowed to roam the streets freely without a pack member as protection. 

‘Not like I need a babysitter. I can protect myself.’

But here, fighting the young beta in front of you, was the best! It was fun and he’d never won a single sparring match against you. It fed your ego to know that even as an omega, you were faster and stronger than a beta. Society called you inferior because of your biology but you were so strong. You could handle yourself and even go toe to toe with quite a few alpha’s! Your opponents took you seriously because they thought you were a Beta. Only at the tender age of 17, you were a grade 1 sorcerer and you were a force to be reckoned with. 

However, all of that changed today. You were going to be meeting the trio’s sensei. A powerful, unserious, weirdo, according to Fushiguro. That was extremely confusing to you but Itadori would not shut up about him and with much guilting and convincing, you agreed to meet him. Of course, you have heard about the infamous Gojo clan. Even small families like yours knew to stay clear of them, they were bloodthirsty, ruthless, and carried a deadly aura. Gojo Satoru, was hailed to be the strongest sorcerer of this generation which meant that he was even stronger than anyone in his psychotic clan. So the fact that he existed, a man born with both the Limitless and his Six Eyes, you were not exactly thrilled to be anywhere near that kind of danger. Just the thought of that made your wolf tremble. This was 100% going against your better judgment but it was impossible to deny Itadori. He was such a persistent little golden retriever in your eyes. 

Unexpectedly, the beta in front of you landed a nasty kick to your rib and you doubled over in pain. You swore you heard a faint cracking sound. Yuji's eyes widened as he ran over to you in a panic, the others not so far behind him. 

“Y/N are you ok? I’m so sorry!! I thought you would have dodge.” He crouched next to you in an attempt to assess the damage. You can hear the panic in his voice.

”Y/N! Can you stand? Itadori, you damn idiot! Who kicks a girl with that much force?” Nobara scolded him loudly before punching the top of his head. The Beta winced and Megumi approached y/n.

”I think my rib might be broken…” You chuckle before trying to straighten with some difficulty. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the paper covered bed with a pout as you listened to Shoko explain your diagnosis to you. You hang your head with annoyance, kicking your dangling feet back and forth like an idle child. Shoko sighed, assuming you weren’t paying attention so she grabbed your chin with her delicate fingers and tilted your head to focus on her.

“Y/n-chan, you have 3 hairline fractures. 3-” She held up 3 fingers with her opposite hand.

“On 2 different ribs. Which is a miracle. You are lucky you didn’t end up with a full on break. A direct hit from Itadori-kun is more than capable of doing it.”  She lets go of you and heads to a medicine cabinet.

“…” You deflated even more but winced in pain.

“2 weeks of bed rest. No missions, no training. And no complaining.” She tossed you a bottle of painkillers, which you caught and she fixed you with a look at the last order. She knew you well enough to know you would pout and try to negotiate the terms of your discharge and pretend like you weren’t in pain.  

“Hai. Hai. Shoko-San.” You pouted before sucking in a deep breath to prepare for the pain when you got off the bed. It hurt like a bitch but you didn’t show any signs of pain as you thanked Shoko and exited the room.

The moment you closed the door, you were frozen in place. Hand still clutching the doorknob as a shock ran through your body and your hackles raised. You were internally panicking and you didn’t realize why until you turned your head and saw the last person you wanted to run into. Gojo Satoru. You may never have met him but everyone knew the description of that man. He was the only young sorcerer in Japan with snow white and brilliant blue eyes that you can peeking out from the tinted glasses on his face.

Your instincts recognized the overwhelming power radiating from that unknown alpha before your nose could even pick up the unfamiliar scent. It frightened you, he frightened you. You were sure your scent relayed that much. His scent alone was so overpowering that it engulfed the hallway like a flood. He smelled of the forest. Clean and crisp after a heavy rain and the slight node natural musk. But it was also sweet, like something you know you’ve come across before. You lifted your head a bit and scented the air. ‘Ah, it’s sugared birch.’ It was one of your favorite candle scents and it helped to calm you most after being abandoned here by your parents. You felt dizzy from his scent, like your consciousness left your body and was hovering around you. You felt your wolf whine at that moment, it was muffled but definitely clear enough to snap you out of that haze. She intended to keep you alert in the face of this threat. Right now, he was slowly closing in on you and you were staring in obvious panic. Everything was screaming at you to bare your neck or prostrate yourself as a sign of submission. It was your wolf. She was gnawing at the edges of your psyche and she seemed just as panicked too.

You had to fight tooth and nail with your inner wolf to move. You wanted to run away. Your mind wanted you to run away but your instincts, though weak, told you that it would be incredibly stupid to do so. A slight upwards tilt of the head came from the alpha as he acknowledges your presence, still slowly making his way towards you just gives confirmation that it would be. He looked predatory. Something in that gesture told you that he was daring you to try. He was daring you to run and it would have been a huge mistake because you could tell that he would catch you and you wouldn’t even get far. 

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears by the time the white haired sorcerer finally stopped about an arms length in front of you. ‘This is insane. He had to be at least 6’2. No, maybe 6’3? Jesus, he is massive.’ You thought to yourself as your head traveled up to look at his face. The height difference only made you feel more intimidated by him.

Bending over slightly to look down on your smaller frame, he gave you a beautifully, disarming smile.

 “Yo.”

You tilted your head to the side and blinked at him twice. You stared at that man in complete confusion as you felt the tension in your body easing away immediately. A wave of calm washed over your body, giving you a warm feeling and dulling your senses. ‘What the hell…?’ Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. One moment you were about ready to claw yourself out of your skin to escape if needed, the next, you felt eerily calm and relaxed. Gojo gave you a knowing smirk before straightening to his full height. 

“You must be Nanami’s student. Itadori-kun speaks of you often. I am his sensei, Gojo Satoru.” He held his hand out for you to shake.You looked down at his hand and bit your lip in contemplation. You didn’t want to touch him so instead you quickly bowed instead, a perfect 90 degree angle. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Gojo-San. You are correct, Nanami-san is my sensei. My name is L/n Y/n, I am a Grade 1 sorcerer.” He used the same outstretched hand to gently grip your chin and raised your face to look at him. His fingers were so hot against your skin, uncomfortably so but you just clench your teeth and bared with it. 

“Y/n-chan. It’s a pleasure to meet another promising young sorcerer.” 

“T-thank you…” Internally smacking yourself for stuttering. ‘Ugh. Since when do I even stutter?! Jeez!’  

You waited for him to remove his hand but he never did. Instead, he directed your head to either side slightly. He paused for a moment, seemingly in deep thought then smirked. In response to this, you raised a brow at him in question but he released your chin before you could verbally inquire as to what he was looking at. 

“L/n-chan, I almost forgot-” The door to your right opened and Shoko appeared, interrupting whatever was going on.

“Ah. Gojo. It’s been a while.” The doctor turned and greeted her friend.

“It has been.” He responded in acknowledgment but seems to have kept his eyes on you. 

“Uh, excuse me but I’m going to go now.” You said to the pair.

“Oh, hold on sec. Here.” The doctor turned to you and handed you a bottle of pills.

“Take these with food before bed. It's an antibiotic.”

You looked down at the bottle in your hands and nodded numbly before scurrying off, avoiding the man that you knew was staring at you. You could feel his gaze burning into you back until you turned the corner.  

__________________________________

“Working hard these days, Ieiri?”

”The young ones keep me busy. That one especially.” Shoko said to her friend as she shook her head. 

“Oh?” He inquired curiously. He was very interested in the cute little omega.

”That little beta is quite reckless. This time it's fractured ribs, last month I could barely recognize her, she was beaten so badly that she looked half dead. I’m surprised she made a full recovery, honestly. But.. that girl was the sole reason her team came back without any casualties from a special grade curse mission that they had no business fighting to begin with.” Shoko paused and smiled softly to herself.

‘Beta? Her scent was quite subtle, even for a beta but full of the sweetness only an omega can carry. Besides, she responded well when I used my scent to calm her earlier. There’s no way she is a beta. But if she can fool Nanami and Ieiri, she’s no doubt has fooled the other members of the school. Heh. What a clever little omega.’ He smirked proudly to himself. He was proud to know that the little, barely trained wolf was fiercely protective to the point of sacrificing her own precious life for others. ‘Reckless, indeed though. That little one must have a stubborn streak like no other to persevere in such a battle when all her comrades could no longer fight. Hmm. Brave, talented, and brilliant enough to figure out how to conceal her secondary gender. I’m liking you more and more Y/n L/n.’ He really was very curious about this girl. Gojo rarely got curious about anything but something about this omega really caught his attention.

“Heh, you’ll end up working yourself into an early retirement with that one.” He joked.

“Hopefully not too early. I gave that beta enough tranquilizers to last her 2 whole weeks.” 

“So those antibiotics?”

“Yup, that’s right. They were sedatives.” She beamed at her friend.

“How naughty, Ieiri.” He was chuckled, though he was actually pretty shocked with his former teammate. 

“Don’t give me that. If I hadn’t, surely that child would be back here within the week. I have a lot of work to do and if I can make a preemptive strike to stop her from ending up back in here with even worse damage, then I will.” She ranted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You made it to your room with much effort, collapsing on your bed as gently as you could while hissing in pain. Thankfully you had been able to avoid meeting any of your friends on your way here. 

“Fuck… even breathing hurts.” You truly were in too much pain and shock to actually deal with people at the moment. Pain for obvious reasons but shock due to the way your body reacted to your best friend's sensei.

`What the fuck even happened? I’ve never met such an intimidating alpha before. He made my body just go haywired. I went from scared to panicked to dizzy to calm and then docile. What the actual fuck… is that how most omega’s act around True Alpha?’ There were no other True Alpha at this school. True alpha’s were extremely rare. They were born as Alpha’s and so they are one and the same with their wolf. They were usually considered to be a bit on the unhinged side due that since a wolf is the rawest, primal part of an individual. Of course, they didn’t go through ruts until they were physically mature but when they did, it was said to be more intense than that of a regular alpha. They were naturally stronger and more advanced than any other Alpha as well as mask their scents at will. ‘And Gojo sits on the very top of them all. Well at least, that’s what everyone was told.’

You decided to put those thoughts away for the moment and decided you needed a shower. You were dreading it, it’ll definitely take a lot of effort. Sighing, you dragged yourself off the bed with a whimper then headed to the bathroom.

Your shower took a bit longer than expected but it was successful. You were super tired but even more so, you were hungry. Grabbing your phone, you send a quick text to Yuji. 

You: Itadori! I have been released! I just barely escaped clutches of death! :D

Yuji: Y/n-chan! What was the verdict? Will you survive the night? :O

You: Unlikely… But if a brave knight brings me sustenance, there is hope! 

Yuji: Roger! 

You chuckled at that. You knew he would happily get you something to eat since he was your best friend. While you waited, you dressed yourself in a plain satin nightgown that buttoned up. There was no way you would be lifting your arms above your head for a while to put on any other type of clothing. You arrange a few pillows on your bed to prop yourself upright then you sit down and grab your laptop, browsing for a movie. There was a knock at your door about 30 minutes later.

“It’s open!” You shouted and the door opened to reveal two men.

“We come bearing nourishments, my lady.”  Itadori stated with a bad old English accent and it made you giggle. 

“Why thank you, good sir.” You smile and place your palm over your heart, careful not to actually touch your chest and bow your head to him.

Both boys entered the room and closed the door behind them. They took a spot on either side of you then opened the bag of food, pulling out a few different trays from your favorite restaurant and placing them in front of the laptop. 

“How are you feeling Y/n-chan?” Megumi asked you while you guys began to eat. 

“Not terrible, but breathing does hurt a tad bit.” You chuckled to yourself. Itadori turned to you with watery eyes apologized again for hurting you. You poked his cheek with your finger and gave a fake angry look.

”Oh cut it out, it was my fault that I got hurt and you know it. I’m the one who’s sorry for cutting our training time short but guess you finally beat me. It sucks though,  Shoko-san has effectively grounded me for the next 2 weeks.” You huff before pouting.

”It’s a good thing. No one is more danger prone than you, Y/n-chan.” The dark haired one chimed in.

”Hey! Rude! I am not danger prone! Tell him, Itadori-kun!” You turned your head to your best friend for backup. He avoided your gaze and started whistling nervously.

Your mouth dropped open and you smacked his hand.

“Traitor!” You yelled and the both of you laughed while the alpha rolled his eyes at your antics. 

The rest of the night finished with the boys cleaning up and leaving after helping you adjust yourself into a laying down position and you taking your medicine. You have to admit,  the painkiller really helped. In less than 20 minutes you could feel the pain subsiding into a dull throb. Maybe the antibiotics will help too. You sighed in relief and relaxed into the bed just before sleep overtook you.

__________________________________

It was just after midnight when Gojo Satoru appeared outside the window of your dorm. He slid the glass to the side and jumped onto the windowsill, looking down at your sleeping form. He took a whiff of the room, expecting to be engulfed in her scent but he immediately frowned. It smelled disgustingly of his young alpha pseudo son and his newer beta student. Both male scents were stale but having it around the one he was interested in, in her space and over powering your scent did irritate him.

A low grumble emitted from his throat. He was not pleased in the slightest. Though none of those children posed a real threat, he couldn’t hide the displeasure on his face. ‘I came here to explore her scent more. Not to be bombarded by the scents of inferior males.’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He could still smell the little one on the bed but it was still quite weak. Especially given the fact that this is your bedroom, your scent should be strongest in here but it was not. He glanced around the room and noticed how bare it was, but he was taken aback to see the lack of a nest. 

‘How strange. Even if she was pretending to be a beta, an omega without a nest is an unstable thing.’

Shaking his head, he crept down onto the bed and sat down with his legs folded at the end of the bed. He slid off his glasses and peered at the sleeping silhouette before him. He could smell better now that he was this close to you.

“Hmm…” Still he was displeased. He wanted to see your face right now and from his position, he could not.Satoru moved to lay beside you, resting his head on his fist to prop him up. He stared at the unconscious little omega. 

“You are pretty enough. A solid 8.5.” He said to no one as he took in your facial features. Your eyelashes were exceptionally long, kissing your cheeks, your lips were a pretty rosy color and your h/c hair cascaded around you in waves, giving you an angelic image. 

“Yes, definitely pretty enough.” He nodded to himself. Focusing on the reason for his visit, the alpha reached out and grabbed the blanket that covered your body, pulling it down to your waist. He was distracted momentarily by how big your breasts were. Your sleep shirt had the first 3 buttons undone, revealing your impressive cleavage. It was hypnotizing to watch your chest rise and fall with each breath and it was almost  tempting to touch her. But Gojo was better than some low level scum. He had way more control than that. He wouldn’t take advantage of an injured omega. 

Ignoring her body, he sat up fully near her face then reached down to tilt your head in his direction and pulled the collar of her dress aside. Without another thought, he brought his head down to her delicate neck and took a deep inhale of you scent, straight from the source. Your scent gland.

The white hair man’s eyes flew open in utter shock. She was sweet, no doubt there, even more so than he originally could pick up earlier. She smelled like a honey crisp apple. He licked his lips, Y/n smelled delicious to him. Sweet and with a slight tartness to it but that was all which was odd. Usually there was a mixture of things that made up a person’s unique scent.

“Wait-”

There was something else, something wrong. Something chemical. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and buried his nose further into your neck. Careful not to touch you beyond that in fear of hurting you, he gripped the bed sheets around you and inhaled again deeply. ‘Hmm. Actually, there are quite a few chemicals.’ It took all of 30 seconds for his brain to pinpoint exactly what was polluting this little omega’s scent. The sorcerer sighed and leaned away from you in realization.

“Suppressants. And damn good ones at that.” 

‘Little girl, how naughty you’ve been. Taking suppressants is very illegal. Though, you must have good connections to get such a high quality drug. Not only are they suppressing your second gender, but it also seems like something this refined is also giving you a false scent of a beta as a cover.’ He thought to himself after sitting up. Regular suppressants were nowhere near this well crafted and would have been easily detected by a jujutsu sorcerer. Essentially, it would never have gotten past Nanam, let alone Ieiri.

‘Heh. I would have never guessed that a student could get her hands on black market drugs. How intriguing you are, little wolf. Much more intriguing than I originally thought.’ He thought to himself as he admired your beauty.

“You seem to be really enjoying the life you have now. It's a shame that I’m going to end up destroying it.” He grinned wickedly, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

“I just don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.” He stroked her cheek lovingly before. His eyes glinted with a new formed obsession.

A/N: Chapter 2 has been posted.

[dreamscribee]

💎A Night of Forever💎

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿ ︵ ‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿

ღ Anthony Bridgerton x female reader (18+ sligth smut part at the end)

ღ Here's Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. To fully immerse yourself in this enchanting love story, I encourage you to start from the beginning. Enjoy the journey!

ღ Sumarry: Y/N and Anthony's wedding day is a joyous celebration of their love. After heartfelt vows and a lively reception, they share a deeply intimate and passionate first night together as a married couple, marking the beginning of their life of happiness and love.

ღ word count: 661 (words), 3,736 (chacters)

ღ Thank you so much for all the love on this series! This will be the conclusion, but I wanted to give you a little something before Season 3 comes out tomorrow. I hope you've enjoyed reading and escaping reality for a bit. I can't wait to create more short stories like this one for you. Just a small heads-up: since this final chapter is romantic, it’s rated 18+ for the slight smut part at the end. Enjoy!

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿ ︵ ‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿

The day of Y/N and Anthony's wedding dawned bright and clear, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the grand estate. The gardens were in full bloom, their vibrant colors mirrored in the smiles and laughter of the guests who had gathered to witness the union of two hearts bound by love.

Y/N stood in her dressing room, surrounded by her closest friends and family. Her wedding gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin, hugged her figure gracefully, the train flowing behind her like a river of moonlight. She took a deep breath, her heart fluttering with a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As the ceremony began, Y/N felt a calm wash over her. The chapel was adorned with fragrant blooms, the air filled with the soft hum of anticipation. When the doors opened, and she began her walk down the aisle, her eyes immediately locked with Anthony's. He stood at the altar, looking more handsome than ever in his tailored suit, his eyes brimming with love and awe.

The vows they exchanged were heartfelt and sincere, each word a promise of eternal devotion. When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Anthony's kiss was tender yet passionate, a seal of their love that drew cheers and applause from their guests.

The reception was a joyous celebration, filled with dancing, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. But as the night wore on, Y/N and Anthony found themselves stealing glances at each other, their hearts longing for the moment they would be alone.

As the last guests departed, the newlyweds made their way to the bridal suite, their hands entwined. The room was a haven of romance, lit by the soft glow of candlelight and adorned with rose petals scattered across the bed.

Anthony turned to Y/N, his eyes dark with desire. "You are a vision, my love," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "I've dreamed of this moment for so long."

Y/N's breath hitched as she looked up at him, her heart racing. "And I, you," she replied softly, her voice trembling with anticipation.

With a gentle touch, Anthony began to undress her, his fingers moving with reverence and care. Each piece of clothing that fell away brought them closer, the air between them charged with an electric tension.

When Y/N stood before him, clad only in her delicate undergarments, Anthony paused, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. "You are breathtaking," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

He closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. As their tongues intertwined, Y/N felt a heat ignite within her, a longing that had been building since the moment they first met.

Anthony's hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and hollow, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he finally lifted her and laid her on the bed, Y/N's body was aflame with desire.

Their lovemaking was a dance of passion and tenderness, each touch, each kiss a testament to the love they shared. Anthony's movements were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Y/N's as he brought her to the peak of pleasure again and again.

In the quiet aftermath, they lay entwined, their bodies glistening with the sweat of their shared passion. Anthony brushed a strand of hair from Y/N's face, his eyes filled with a love so deep it took her breath away.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "More than words can ever express."

Y/N smiled, her heart overflowing with happiness. "And I love you, Anthony," she replied, her voice a soft melody. "Forever and always."

As they drifted into a peaceful slumber, their bodies still intertwined, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a lifetime of happiness together.

[nhularin]

ENOUGH FOR YOU

PAIRING popular bf! sunghoon x f!reader GENRE angst no comfort, childhood friends to lovers to exes, highschool AU WARNING wonyoung hating sunghoon XTRA not as angsty as my other drabbles but..., not proofread, probably some grammar mistakes WC 1.3k series masterlist

june 2nd, 2002

"stop moping around and eat your sandwich"

wonyoung snickered, mac and cheese muffling her voice as your head laid restlessly on the metal ( probably dirty and oily) cafeteria table.

"like seriously, its been five days since he last messaged you. i always knew he was a jerk, pretty privilege is real! hes nothing but a ken doll with the way his words are filled with nonsense"

"leave him alone" you groaned, head still down, you could practically feel the acne screaming from underneath your skin "hes a nice guy, probably just busy"

"busy my ass, dont you see the way he literally follows that loser group like an overgrown chihuahua? if he can make time to buy booze for a bunch of 17 year olds then he can for sure make time for his amazing, smart and pretty girlfriend" wonyoung rolled her eyes as she stuffed bland coleslaw in her mouth

you looked up, dark bags adoring your face, you had been in a relationship with sunghoon since your freshman year. as children, you both had been inseparable ever since you moved to salt lake city, your bond growing stronger with each passing year. but now, as juniors, things felt different. he had recently joined the popular crowd, the same crowd you both used to talk shit about in between classes, and friday nights had become synonymous with parties and new faces.

tried so hard to be everything that you liked

the change had been gradual at first, but you couldn't help but notice how sunghoon had become the center of attention, attracting the gazes of both girls and sweaty boys alike. his charismatic smile and magnetic personality drew people towards him like moths to a flame, leaving you feeling like a mere extra and shadow in his presence.

but it was the encounters with the prettier, more popular girls that cut you to the core. you couldn't help but compare yourself to them, questioning if you were really deserving for sunghoon. the doubts grew louder with each unanswered message, as sunghoon seemed to drift further away.

you only sighed

"lets get this over with. you, pretty girl, find your ogre looking piece of shit of a boyfriend and im gonna stay at the entrance" wonyoung ordered sternly, her voice growing darker as she described your boyfriend

unable to bear the weight of uncertainty any longer and seeing you drown in the growing pool of self pity, wonyoung suggested going to the party where sunghoon tweeted where he was going to be at. maybe seeing him in person would provide some clarity. and so, you found yourself at the heart of the celebration, searching for a glimpse of the person who held your heart.

the night was filled with laughter and music as you stood in the midst of the crowded party. but amidst the lively atmosphere, a heavy sense of unease settled in your heart. you couldn't help but feel like a walking shell of sadness with the absence and lack of your boyfriend's warmth, your messages left unanswered for days dont make your overthinking self feel better either. the persistent doubt gnawed like an aggressive parasite in your mind, making you question if you were truly enough for him.

you found someone more exciting the next second, you were gone

it didn't take long for your eyes to land on him. sunghoon stood near the punch bowl, a radiant smile on his face as he engaged in a conversation with the head cheerleader joonhee. your heart sank at the sight, your fears of being replaceable seemingly coming true, his laughter and the way he touched her arm with familiarity stung deeply in your soul.

"1,2,3 breathe, 1,2,3 breathe" you whispered shakingly to yourself with closed eyes, trying to calm the storm inside of you

overwhelmed by heartache, you couldn't stand to witness any more. and so, running through the backdoor and through drunk teenagers, your breath came in ragged gasps as tears welled up slowly, refusing to fall, just like your pride. you couldn't bear to be in that suffocating environment any longer. the cool night air embraced you as you reached your car, parked in lee heeseungs empty suburb's parking lot.

as you sat in the car, your emotions overflowed, tears still threatened to fall freely as your soul filled with rage and betrayal. it was in that moment, surrounded by darkness and engulfed by doubt, that your vulnerability took hold. the floodgates of your emotions burst open, and a stream of tears cascaded down your cheeks. each tear held your deepest fears and insecurities, each sob a cry for validation and reassurance.

and you left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong

"fucking shit" you sighed as incoming calls of wonyoung flooded your notifications. "should've listened to her, huh?" humorless laughter echoed in your crammy dark dimmed toyota. the silence was unbearable, fuelling the whispers in your head that you were not enough and you havent been good enough for him for a while. that you had lost sunghoon to someone who was prettier, much more interesting than you. but deep down, a glimmer of strength began to flicker within you

"why wasn't I enough?" you whispered, the words escaping your lips like a desperate plea. in the depths of your pathetic despair, you couldn't comprehend how you had fallen short, how you had failed to capture sunghoons attention and affection.

the car's small interior offered a temporary solace, shielding you from the actions of the world outside. the emptiness of the parking lot mirrored the emptiness you felt within, making the pain that coursed through your veins grow stronger. you gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles turning white as you tried to steady your trembling body (and if you were your friend, how you were going to run over your boyfriend)

but as the minutes ticked by, you began to actually listen to the daily "you're enough, you're enough. you deserve all the love and happiness in the world, from someone much better" mantra of your friend, realizing that your worth did not hinge on Sunghoon's approval.

you were more than just a measure of your relationship. you were a person with dreams, aspirations, and a heart that deserved to be cherished, regardless of whether it was by sunghoon or someone else.

with each tear that fell, a flicker of resilience ignited within you. screw him, you refused to let your doubts created by him define you. you refused to believe that you were not enough. slowly, you wiped away the tears, your reflection in the rearview mirror revealing tired and empty eyes

Taking a deep breath, you whispered to yourself, "I am enough, i am enough, i am enough. I am deserving of love and happiness." the words hung in the air, the words a combat fighting the doubts that had plagued your mind.

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

"and i deserve if from someone who values me" your voice cracked, dried tears threatening to fall again

as you started the car, the engine's purr resonated with newfound determination. you drove away from the empty parking lot, leaving behind the doubts and heartache that had consumed you. and as you navigated the darkened streets, a flicker of hope emerged, lighting your path towards self-discovery (having a midlife crisis at the ripe age of seventeen is normal, right?) and a love that would celebrate your true worth.

'Cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else

incoming messages!

wony (12 new messages, 3 unanswered calls)

hoonie <333 (3 new messages) OPEN

hoonie <333: i saw you at heeseungs

hoonie <333: its not what it looked like, yn

hoonie <333: you know i only love you

are you sure you want to block 'hoonie <333'?

PROCEED ✓ CANCEL

PERM TAGLIST @misokei @avocarua @sngvhs @essmarye @haechansbbg

SERIES' MASTERLIST @flwerfield @hyhees @mrchweeee @j1nniee @mikaluvsyouu @delulu4-life @mora134340 @beomsbeanie @leep0ems @cIphantom-hive @yla-aira @filmofhybe @nishik1

[kuethemoon]

iwtv fanfic friday: lesbianism onto the guys

@oldbutchdaniel I'm joining the fun. it's yuri time

two-headed mother by tisiphones // e, 8.6k

"Poor darling," Armand says, and the condescension in his voice is so awful and so offensive and Lestat wants to curl up in it and never, ever leave. "It's okay to let yourself be taken care of for just one night. You can't help what you need." It's Lestat's last night in Paris. Armand makes it a memorable one.

actually world changing. mommy issues galore it's sooo fun and this fic is part of several that got me into armandstat

super graphic ultra modern girl by armanddelioncourt // e, 0.9k

“I want to watch how you insert your tampon.” “Wha—No, you weirdo,” she glanced around the mercifully-deserted aisle. “You can’t just ask me that in the store!”

yummmmmy period blood fic!!! i love period blood fics sooo much and they're so cute

More than Neither by apoptoses // e, 6.2k

Annoying, how hot it is to see Armand kneeling on the dirty bathroom floor like this. Without her heels to compensate for their height difference she looks small, delicate. Her face is on the level with Daniel’s hips and Daniel knows what’s about to happen. Armand has probably been planning for this since they stepped into the store, she realizes. There’s no way she’d catch Daniel bleeding for the first time and let that go. (Daniel gets her period. Armand helps. Written for the Queens of the Damned prompt butch/femme.)

another period blood fic pls bartender! if I tip you can add them being freaky in a public toilet? thank you very much I'll take the lot pls!! the way daniel and armand handle being women and lesbians is so well written. dyke stamp of approval. if you're starting to notice a trend don't tell me

she loves me, she loves me not by IguessIllchangeitlater // e, 2.3k

“Sure,” she panted and raised her head, tried to find Armand’s eyes, but kept focusing on her fanged smile instead. “I will wear that fucking skirt.” Push out, push in, push out, push in, Daniela was going to come just from that, she was going to die. “I can’t-ah, I can’t wear my underwear with that, I would look silly.” Push in, push out. “Yes,” Armand agreed. She rested her head on the mattress, next to Daniela’s knee and busied herself with mouthing the blood that was still there. The blood that she drew earlier. “So, what’s the plan, boss?” Daniela managed to raise herself on her elbows. Armand’s beguiled eyes looked like that of a cat in the light of the night. “For the underwear situation?” “You will wear none, of course.”

butch daniel wearing a skirt because armand said so was an idea that bounced around in my head for a whole week so you know how excited I was to read this. hell yeah they're so bad to each other

sweet things for the sea by ulatraviolet_glow // e, 2.6k

Danielle Molloy, a runaway posing as a young man on a trading ship dreams of a better life, but when her dreams find her falling overboard and into the arms of the woman of her dreams, how disturbed will Dani be when she realises that the woman is not human at all, but a creature of the sea?

siren armand do you know how much you mean to meeeeee I lay awake at night thinking of you sinfully. siren armand...

one of your girls by sleepdeprivedsurgeon // m, 4.7k

“I was thinking maybe I’d go with my girlfriend,” Daniel says. Armand sucks in a breath, a familiar blend of excitement and fever rearing its head inside him. This isn’t new— nothing is, after nearly five centuries— but it’s certainly been a while. Louis doesn’t care what he looks like, what he is, just as long as he stays below him. On his knees in the endless confessional. Marius would dress him up sometimes: Helen of Troy, Cassandra, Mary Magdalene. When the painting was finished he’d push his skirts up and take him there in the studio.

technically not yuri but beautiful feminization + crossdressing armand and I had to put it here. special treat!

[totowlff]

After seeing that video that you qrted of Lewis and Toto in the paddock I realized I can't focus on anything else when his ARMS are just there. so i was thinking if you could write smth where reader works for merc/a job that puts her close to toto everyday and they often have team meetings but reader can't focus on anything else other than his arms. HANDS. and maybe his big ass watch 🤭 thx nat 🥰

the mind is a very strong thing, huh?

filthy

Dropping the material on the table, you let out a long sigh. You had already lost count of how many times you had sat in that room in the last two years, especially to talk about problems. And they were not few.

Slowly, the seats around the table were occupied, the sound of metal scraping on the floor of the room along with the mumbled greetings without much enthusiasm. There was no reason to be excited, not when another year had been thrown in the trash. Looking at your phone, you no longer remembered the topic you were talking about with your friend, the message you had started typing completely losing its meaning.

Then, a voice made you look up, a shy smile on your lips.

— Good morning, everyone — your boss said, as he went to the chair he usually occupied, near the flat screen on which the silver star shone. His eyes took in the way he greeted one of the employees with a smile and a hand on the shoulder.

However, as he sat down, a hiss escaped his lips.

— Is there a problem, Mr. Wolff? — you asked, almost without realizing it.

— Oh, no, it's just the knee that's still bothering me a little.

— The surgery didn't work?

— Yes, it worked, you just need to move it a little to strengthen it and it's a little painful, actually — he replied, smiling — But I appreciate your concern, Y/N. It's very kind of you.

You felt your face heat up, as you returned the smile.

The meeting began shortly after that short exchange of words between you, but your mind was still at that moment, on the sweet words, on his smile. That was the power Toto Wolff had over you. And you couldn't help but feel that way, especially when he was around.

He had enchanted you since the first time those brown eyes had met yours. His smile lit up any room, almost like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. His playful, almost boyish personality made something warm inside your chest, making you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time.

It was completely wrong, you knew. But, you couldn't help it.

You desired your boss.

— This is our chance to consolidate Lewis and the team in second place in the constructors — Toto said, gesturing with his hands in order to emphasize his own words — We couldn't do much in Japan, but this is the time to fight.

You weren't absorbing anything from that meeting. With one hand on your chin, you only had eyes for him and the way he moved his hands, as well as his serious tone, which made his skin tingle in a delicious way. You would do anything to be touched by those fingers, to feel them slide across your skin, leaving a trail of flames and desire along the way.

— The circuit was resurfaced, we're still not sure about the wear and tear — someone said next to you, but you didn't make a point of looking in its direction. Not when your mind drew a racy, not to say indecent, image involving the man scribbling something on the notepad in front of him.

It could be anywhere, even there. Toto wouldn't need to say much to have you in his hands, literally. Sitting on the conference table, it wouldn't take long for him to realize what you needed. And he would give it willingly, his breath hot against your ear.

His hand would slide up your black dress until it found the spot between your legs, hot and pulsing for attention, for stimulation, for him. Brushing his fingers lightly against your clit, still covered by your panties, making you moan softly.

— So needy — Toto would murmur, before pulling away the fabric and slowly inserting two fingers into your pussy, moving them slowly, as if he was discovering what you liked.

Just by looking in his eyes, you would make it clear that that rhythm was not enough, nor that the position of the fingers was correct. You needed him to bend them slightly, to brush against the spot you couldn't reach when you were alone, but that you were sure he was capable of.

— Toto — his name would escape your lips like a plea.

— More? — he would ask quietly, with a provocative smile. By nodding positively, the smile would grow — Ask me, schatz. Ask me and I'll give it to you.

— Please — you would murmur — Faster.

— Good girl…

The pace would go from something slow and almost torturous to something relentless, the wet sound that escaped your pussy would fill the room, along with your moans. Using the base of his hand, he would massage your clitoris without much delicacy, trying to take you to the place you wanted so much and had already reached so many times with those brown eyes in mind.

— Fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes — you would whimper, your fingers squeezing his shoulders tightly, as if that were possible to keep you there, savoring that pleasure you had waited so long for.

— Yes, let me feel your pussy squeezing my fingers, schatz — Toto would growl, as his hand continued to move against you, causing your legs to shake and your eyes to roll back.

The explosion was so close, so close. There was little left, just a few seconds.

And then…

— Y/N, how are the updated parts for Austin? — Toto asked.

Blinking, you came back to reality, feeling your skin too hot and your cheeks red. You had definitely gone too far.

— Ah, yes, the parts — you stuttered, looking for that information in your notes, feeling like a complete idiot for having let yourself be carried away by your own imagination — Yeah, so, they were...

— You know what, we'll talk about this after the meeting in my office, okay?

Your heart skipped a beat.

— Perfect.

[emonaculate]

Bad Idea Right?

❥ AU: Modern

❥ Genre: Suggestive

❥ Rating: 18+, not super explicited but definitely not for kids.

❥ Pairing: Gojo x Black!Y/n

❥ Warnings Include: Mentions of cheating, failed situationship, Gojo is annoying and stupidly cocky, Y/n is NOT standing on business, poor choices, even poorer taste in men, complicated relationship, toxic?gojo

❥ Synopsis: Despite finals being around the corner, Y/n cannot bear to stare at one more quizlet set so she needs a good distraction; who better to be that distraction than a failed situationship that just so happens to be dating her roommate?

❥ Author Note: Midterm studying is kicking my ass and I needed to take a break to write something more entertaining than college calculus formulas. Inspired by Bad Idea by Olivia Rodrigo I obviously do not condone cheating but its Gojo.. would you turn him down?

Y/n's eyes strained as she stared at the computer screen, the heat radiating onto her bare thighs after over an hour of hunching forward, her back screaming in protest. Her thick, clear prescription glasses slid down her nose, weakened from countless drops and nights spent rolling onto them in her sleep. As a cramp began to form in her left leg, folded awkwardly in a butterfly position, she finally stood up, deciding it was the perfect moment for a break. With a decisive tap, she switched her phone to "do not disturb." Instantly, the magic barrier lifted; as soon as she turned it off, her phone buzzed to life with a flood of messages from her group chat, her friends eagerly reaching out.

Before Y/n could even skim the messages, a call from her roommate buzzed through, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. To say their relationship wasn’t the best would be an understatement. Y/n felt as if her roommate was dragging out a situation that had long since ended. Having transferred to Jujutsu Tech University for her junior year, Y/n, a foreigner with limited Japanese, had taken it upon herself to enroll in a Japanese elective. That was where she met the source of her current woes: a white-haired biochemist major with mesmerizing starlit sapphire eyes. Gojo had been assigned as her student tutor, intended to create a casual atmosphere for practicing the language. The plan worked a little too well. Y/n might have needed glasses to see clearly, but she wasn’t blind. Gojo was the most stunning man she had ever encountered. Clad in an oversized university sweatshirt, a black collared shirt peeking from underneath, and baby blue Converse laced with a star pattern, he had an effortless charm that was hard to resist. What surprised her even more was his apparent interest in her; perhaps it was her uniqueness that drew him away from the usual crowd of girls who orbited his charisma.

None of that mattered anymore; their fling had barely lasted beyond a few dates, some casual hookups, and hangouts. Y/n had realized she wasn’t ready for a relationship with a man who seemed overly friendly with other women. At this stage in her life, she didn’t want to waste energy trying to make someone act right. After all, their connection had been mostly about mind-blowing sex and friendship—so what difference did it make if she suddenly put an end to the physical side? Gojo could certainly find someone else to satisfy him. Despite being the one to end things, Y/n was confident it was for the best. So, imagine her surprise when her roommate came home one day, bubbling with excitement about a date with Gojo Satoru. Trying to be mature and avoid any drama, Y/n attempted to downplay her past with him. She casually mentioned it, hoping to prevent any misunderstandings. Sara took it well at first, only seeming bummed out that having Gojo Satoru wasnt a special prize that was only obtained by the few. However Sara changed once she realized how deeply the two had been involved and were still close. Y/n still remembered the feeling of being slapped awake after falling asleep studing at their shared kitchen area.

To sum up that altercation and not bring too much attention to the police report that might have been written up; Y/n simply did not like her roommate. The only reason they still lived together was that Y/n refused to let anyone drive her out of her own home, and breaking the lease would be too costly. Chewing on her bottom lip, Y/n let her phone ring for a comically long time before finally answering.

"Hey, Sara."

"Y/n. Have you heard from Satoru?" Sara's voice came through blunt and unwelcoming.

"Not since the last time I hung out with him, which was months ago," Y/n replied, matching Sara's tone.

She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction in reminding her roommate of their agreement: that Y/n would back off and let Sara and Gojo’s relationship develop in a respectful manner. The silence that followed was thick with tension, and Y/n could almost feel the wheels turning in Sara's mind.

"If he comes by tell him to call me… please" A hint of desperation was heard in Sara's voice as she quickly ended the phone call, leaving Y/n to feel confused and almost sorry for the girl.

Y/n held her phone for a moment, contemplating before dialing a number without thinking. The smile that spread across her face when he answered wasn’t from happiness—it was just a reflex.

“Hey, Pretty.” His teasing voice came through coolly, the background loud and rowdy; he was undoubtedly with his friends.

“Stop with the pet names, fool. Sara is looking for you.”

“I know. I’m avoiding her on purpose,” he replied, a smirk evident in his tone.

“But how can I help you?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress a grin. “Just thought you should know she’s been asking about you. Sounds like she’s really into this whole dating thing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just not ready for all that right now,” he said, laughter bubbling beneath his words.

“What about you? How’s life treating you?”

“Complicated,” she admitted, her voice playful. “But at least I don’t have to deal with clingy roommates.”

“Hey, I’m not clingy! I’m just a good listener,” he shot back. “And a fantastic tutor, if I remember correctly.”

“Please, the only thing you taught me was how to get distracted,” Y/n teased, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you enjoyed those study sessions a little too much.”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “But can you blame me? You make studying way more fun.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said, though the smile was unmistakable in her voice.

“Challenge accepted. But just so you know, I’m up for it,” Gojo said, a hint of mischief in his tone. “So, when are we having our next ‘study session’?”

“Only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself this time,” she shot back, laughing.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he countered, and Y/n felt a flutter of excitement.

That was the danger of being around Satoru—he was as addicting as he was handsome. His charm knew no bounds, and Y/n felt like a snake entranced by a snake charmer; Gojo's voice could persuade her to do just about anything. The way he spoke to her, with that playful confidence, always made her heart race. It was exactly that kind of charm that had led her to make some reckless decisions. She couldn’t help but remember the night they’d jumped off a waterfall together. He had dared her, coaxing her with that irresistible grin, and for some stupid reason, she had said yes.

"Y/n, come on! It’ll be fun!” he had insisted, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s life without a little thrill?”

She could still feel the rush of adrenaline, the cold water shocking her system as they plunged into the darkness. But that moment had left her with more than just memories; it had left her with a permanent scar on her ribcage, a reminder of her reckless leap into the unknown. As they chatted, she felt the familiar pull again—the urge to throw caution to the wind and dive headfirst into whatever crazy adventure he proposed next. But she also knew the risks. With Gojo, it was always a fine line between exhilaration and chaos, and she wasn’t sure how much more of either she could handle.

“Yeah, not this time, 'Toru. Sara might put Nair in my shampoo bottle if she caught you hanging out with me.” They shared a laugh, both fully aware that Sara would absolutely consider it—and Y/n couldn’t help but think it would be entirely warranted.

“Yeah, she would definitely try to mess you up, pretty,” Gojo mused, the background noise fading away. He must have stepped away from the crowd to focus on her.

Y/n felt a twinge of guilt at the way his pet name sent a flutter through her. It was sweet, but it also felt wrong. She knew Sara could be overbearing and a bit controlling, but if the roles were reversed, Y/n wouldn’t like it if the guy she was dating—or whatever this situation with Sara and Gojo was—talked to another girl the way he was talking to her. After all, that was precisely why she had stepped back from Gojo months ago.

“Look, I don’t want to cause any drama,” she said, trying to keep her tone light but serious.

“I just think it’s best if you focus on your new thing with Sara. I don’t want to complicate anything.”

“Complication? Nah, we’re just friends, right?” he replied, but there was a hint of playfulness in his voice that made her heart race.

“Besides, it’s not my fault if you’re so easy to talk to.”

“Easy to talk to? Or easy to flirt with?” Y/n shot back, trying to keep it playful despite the underlying tension.

“Both,” he said, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I promise, if things get messy, I’ll handle it. Just don’t shut me out completely, Y/n.”

Y/n hesitated, caught between wanting to keep her distance and the undeniable chemistry that sparked whenever they spoke. Shit, her resolve was cracking fast.

"Goodbye, Gojo." Just as she moved to hang up, his voice cut through the speaker. The usual playfulness was replaced with a gentler tone, almost a whisper as if he were afraid that speaking any louder would scare her away.

"Come see me, since I can't come to you. I’ll help you study for your economics exam. I know you hate studying alone, and the graphs confuse you. Just come, please…"

His plea hung in the air, and Y/n felt her heart race. It was hard to resist his charm when he sounded so sincere, and the thought of studying together brought back memories of their late-night sessions filled with laughter—and a little more.

“Gojo…” she started, feeling the familiar pull of temptation. “You know this is complicated.”

“I know, but it doesn’t have to be. Just a study session. Nothing more,” he said quickly, his tone earnest. “I promise I’ll keep it strictly academic. I just want to help.”

Y/n bit her lip, torn. Part of her wanted to say no, to protect herself and the boundaries she had set. But another part craved the connection, the familiarity of being around him again.

“Okay, but just studying,” she finally replied, unable to hide the hint of a smile.

“Great! I’ll even prepare snacks,” he replied, the playful edge returning to his voice. "Just don’t blame me if you end up distracted.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you soon, Satoru.” As she hung up, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that she was stepping into dangerous territory, but a thrill coursed through her at the thought of seeing him again.

Y/n applied lip gloss in the Uber, a little gift from Gojo, and wondered if she should have opted for something else. She had chosen a casual look to keep things laid-back: a black wife beater, gray sweatpants, and a pair of slides. Comfort was her priority, but a part of her felt a twinge of doubt about her appearance. She had decided to wear her glasses instead of her contacts, and her mini twists were pulled into a ponytail, with a few stubborn pieces escaping to frame her face. To top it off, she doused herself in mocha vanilla perfume and slathered on shea butter, reasoning that she didn’t want to smell bad after spending hours studying in her room. Never mind that she’d already taken a shower and done a deep scrub—she wanted to feel fresh for the occasion. As the car pulled up to Gojo's place, she felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Would he notice her effort, however casual it was? Or would he tease her for being overdressed for a study session? The thought made her smile. Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped out of the car and smoothed her outfit, reminding herself to keep it cool and casual—just like they had agreed.

But as she walked toward the apartment complex entrance door, she couldn't shake the feeling that today might be anything but ordinary. She smiled at the staff who greeted her at the front desk while signing in, then headed up to that familiar room number, 1025. Standing outside the door, she balanced her tote bag—filled with her laptop, notebook, and pens—in one hand while she knocked with the other. After a few moments, the door swung open, and there he was in all his perfection. Gojo’s white hair glistened with moisture, droplets trickling down from his locks; he must have just finished showering. A black muscle t-shirt clung to his chest, accentuating his toned physique, while oversized red basketball shorts hung loosely on his hips.

“You could have told me you were here, and I would have met you downstairs,” he scolded playfully, stepping aside to let Y/n in. As she entered, Y/n remembered another thing she had overlooked about Satoru: the fact that he was absolutely loaded. He could easily afford to pay rent without a roommate, which meant he often enjoyed his solitude. Sure, his friends loved to hang out at his place, but when he wanted alone time, he had it. It completely slipped Y/n’s mind that the two of them would be entirely alone.

“Uh, hey,” she said, trying to play it cool despite the sudden flutter in her stomach.

“Don't be weird. Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the spacious living area. The room was adorned with an eclectic mix of furniture and decor that reflected his laid-back style.

“I was just about to grab a snack. Want anything?”

Y/n shook her head, still trying to absorb the atmosphere. “I’m good, just here to study.”

“Sure, sure. But you know, studying is more fun with snacks.” He flashed that trademark grin that always made her heart skip a beat.

“Is that your way of saying you plan to distract me?” she teased, settling into a nearby chair.

“Maybe,” he replied with a wink, leaning casually against the door frame.

“But you know you love it.” Y/n couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the weight of tension ease just a bit. This was going to be interesting.

Y/n settled into the plush chair, her laptop open in front of her as Gojo moved to sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing her. He spread out her notes and textbooks, a mix of graphs and theories that had been driving her nuts for weeks.

“Alright, let’s tackle this economics stuff,” he said, his tone upbeat. “What’s tripping you up the most?”

Y/n sighed, glancing at the graphs. “Honestly? All of it. I just don’t get how demand curves work. It’s like trying to read hieroglyphics.”

Gojo leaned in closer, his proximity making her heart race. “Here, let me show you.” He pointed at one of the graphs, his finger tracing the line as he explained. “So, this curve represents how much of a product consumers are willing to buy at different prices. Think of it like… a date with me. The more fun I am, the more you want to be around, right?”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “That’s a terrible analogy, Gojo. You’re just trying to distract me.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. “But seriously, if the price goes up, people want less. Just like if I started charging for my charming company.”

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’d be broke in a week.”

“True, true,” he replied, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. “But just think about it. If I offered you a discount for an extra hour of my time, would you take it?”

“Stop,” Y/n laughed, trying to refocus. “Let’s stick to the graphs.”

“Fine, fine. But you have to admit, I’m making this way more interesting,” he said, giving her a teasing smile.

Y/n leaned closer to her laptop, but the tension was palpable.

“Okay, okay. What about this next graph?”

As Gojo started explaining again, Y/n found her gaze drifting to him—how the light caught the contours of his face, how animated he was as he spoke. The more he talked, the more her focus wavered.

“Y/n?” he said suddenly, pulling her back to the moment. “You still with me?”

“Yeah, of course!” she replied, though her cheeks felt warm.

“I’m just… trying to absorb the genius here.”

“Genius, huh?” he grinned, clearly pleased. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Just stating the obvious,” she shot back, but her smile betrayed her.

He leaned in closer again, the playful banter turning more intimate. “You know, if you’re really struggling, we could take a break. I’m great at helping with… other types of studies.”

“Other types?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “You know, like finding out what makes you tick. What you really want.”

Y/n’s heart raced, and she felt the warmth spread across her cheeks. “Gojo, we’re supposed to be studying!”

“Studying can wait,” he said, his gaze locked onto hers, the air thick with unspoken tension. “Right now, I just want to know more about you.”

Before she could respond, Gojo leaned in closer, the air between them crackling with an electric tension that made studying economics feel like a distant memory. Y/n felt her eyes flutter shut, anticipation swirling within her. She had spent months trying to ignore the undeniable pull between them, but now, with him so close, she realized there was no way they could remain just friends given their history.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and wanting, sending a shiver down her spine. There was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze, a longing that mirrored her own.

“ 'Toru,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper, caught between curiosity and an ache she couldn’t deny. She wanted to unravel the mystery of his feelings, to understand what lay beneath that confident exterior.

“Do you really think we can pretend this isn’t happening?” His smirk was playful, yet his eyes held a vulnerability that drew her in. The warmth radiating from him enveloped her, urging her closer.

Y/n’s heart raced, torn between fear and exhilaration. “I—” But before she could finish, Gojo closed the distance, capturing her lips in a kiss that felt like a revelation.

It started soft and tentative, but quickly deepened into something fervent, as if they were both trying to bridge the gap of all those unspoken months. Y/n's hands made their way to his white locks and Satoru couldnt get enough of how addictive her lips and soft whimpers were. In that moment, everything else faded—the textbooks, the pressures, the uncertainty. It was just them, and Y/n felt alive for the first time in what felt like ages. When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Gojo’s playful grin returned, but it was laced with something more lustful.

“So… friends, huh?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. But Y/n could see the truth behind his words. They were no longer just friends; they had crossed a line, and there was no going back. Not now. Not after this.

"Friends." Y/n echoed, her voice unsteady, the word feeling heavy with all that was left unsaid.

"Mm.. Let me show you how good friends take care of one another" Gojo replied, his tone shifting from its usual playfulness to something darker, more condescending.

In a fluid motion, he flipped her to face the couch, the sudden change sending a thrill through her body. Y/n had forgotten that despite her size; Satoru could toss her around as if she were weightless to him. Before Y/n could fully process what was happening; Gojo sank to the floor, positioning himself in between her legs with an ease that took her breath away. Y/n gasped sharply as she felt him pull her sweats down to reveal her ass in cute basic yellow panties.

"Always so pretty for me." He murmured in a trance-like state.

His touch to her bare skin ignited a warm blaze that spread through her body; everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire and nothing would put it out.

" 'Toru..." She mewed breathlessly, arching her back into his touch as she fisted the throw blanket on the couch.

Satoru drank in the sight of the delirious girl as his fingers glided over her bare skin before he made his way back to her ass prepared to peel her now damp panties off and do what he had been deprived of for months. Y/n felt a rush of vulnerability mixed with excitement as she felt Satoru's finger poke at where she needed him most. His touch was both tender and reverent, as if he were discovering something precious.

"Satoru, please." Y/n turned to look back over her shoulder to be met with the sight of a man barely holding onto his sanity.

"First you give me the taste of the best pussy I've ever had. Next, you leave me and cut off my supply. Then, you ignore and avoid me for months. Whatever I do to this pussy... my pussy; its your fault." He smacked her ass harshly, watching the skin jiggly back into place before pulling her underwear down to be met with the sight of her dripping cunt.

"My pretty girl, I know you've missed me. It's not my fault, your mama is stubborn and so damn prideful but I'm gonna fix all that tonight. Daddy will make it all better." He cooed, rubbing a single digit up and down Y/n's sopping wet core.

Y/n bit her lip in anticipation, she hadn't realized that Satoru was actually upset with how she ending things and knowing how petty the man could get; all she could do was be quiet and hope that the time of them being separated was enough to make him skip the teasing get down to what they both needed. His voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Hey, is this too much? Tell me to stop and I will." He whispered, his voice hoarse from restraint.

Y/n shook her head immediately, breathless and wide-eyed. The fear of crossing the line again evaporated from her mind, eclipsed by the magnetic pull between them. All that mattered to Y/n at the moment was how good Satoru eating her pussy from the back was about to feel and just how much she missed him. Gojo let out a chuckle and connected his mouth to where she needed him most. Each caress and flick of his magical tongue became a promise, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings they both had danced around for too long. Y/n knew what she was doing was wrong but when it feels this good... should it even matter?

[mononijikayu]

magnetic — ieiri shoko.

As Shoko smiles and leans in to kiss you, a rush of bittersweet emotions floods her heart. In that tender moment, she can't help but reflect on the magnetic pull that drew you both together, like two stars orbiting each other in a celestial dance. But beneath the surface, she knows that nothing lasts forever. Inevitably, the forces that brought you together will begin to wane, replaced by the slow, steady drift of separation. It's a reality she's all too aware of, a truth she's learned to accept.

GENRE: Hidden Inventory to Pre-Fearsome Womb Arc, 2005 - 2018;

WARNING/s: Friends to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Banter, Romance, Pining, Grief, Mention of Illness, Depiction of Intimacy, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Near Death, Depiction of Grief, And Then They Were Roommates;

masterlist

listen: magnetic by illit

note: i liked this song. i ended up writing it to be happy, but it ended up being sad instead. anyway, i wrote this a while back and this is the prequel to 'let you break my heart again'!!! i wanted to write suguru into this more, you and him flirting and shoko gets jealous, but i ended up not doing it because its getting way too long. let me know if you want that to be written on another part!!! i hope you love it~

IT WAS CLICHE TO SAY IT, BUT IT FELT MAGNETIC. As Shoko's gaze lingered on you, she couldn't help but notice the subtle nuances of your presence that had captured her heart so many years ago. Your radiant smile, like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm, illuminated the room with its warmth and brightness. It was a smile that seemed to carry the promise of better days ahead, a beacon of hope in the darkness.

Your long hair, flowing behind you like a banner of freedom, danced in the breeze as you swung open the door, revealing a glimpse of the world beyond. In that fleeting moment, as you exchanged a wave with your brother, Shoko felt something stir within her—a spark of recognition, a sense of connection that she couldn't quite explain.

Your carefree demeanor, so effortlessly captivating, spoke volumes about your spirit and resilience. Despite the challenges and uncertainties of life, you carried yourself with an air of confidence and grace that was both inspiring and infectious. It was as if you were untouched by the troubles of the world, your spirit unyielding in the face of adversity.

And as she stood there, lost in the reverie of that fateful day, Ieiri Shoko couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion wash over her—a mixture of longing and nostalgia that tugged at her heartstrings with an undeniable force. It was a feeling that defied explanation, rooted in the inexplicable connection she felt with you from the very first moment their eyes met. 

It had been many years since that day, yet the memory remained etched in her mind as fresh and vivid as if it had happened only yesterday. In her mind's eye, she could see you rushing through the halls of Jujutsu High, your energy infectious as you moved with a vibrant vitality that seemed to light up the entire room.

It was as if fate had intervened, weaving the threads of destiny to bring the two of you together in that singular moment. For Shoko, it was love at first sight—a feeling so powerful and undeniable that it had lingered in her heart for years, shaping her thoughts and emotions in ways she could scarcely comprehend.

And now, as she stood before you once again, the memories of that day flooded her mind with a bittersweet intensity, reminding her of the profound impact you had made on her life from the very beginning.

As the first day of Jujutsu High unfolded, the bustling hallways echoed with the chatter of students, each one brimming with excitement and anticipation for the year ahead. The air was alive with the energy of new beginnings, as freshmen and returning students alike embarked on their journey of learning and growth.

She hadn’t met the other older students just yet — but she was supposed to meet the new batch of freshmen coming in. Yaga–sensei had messaged them that it was time to gather up, to finally get to know each other. 

The walls whispered tales of centuries-old practices and rituals, each corner holding secrets passed down through generations of sorcerers. Yet amidst the age-old traditions, there were glimpses of modernity - digital displays and state-of-the-art facilities coexisting alongside ancient artifacts and mystical relics.

For Shoko, the contrast between the old and the new was both intriguing and intimidating. Jujutsu High was a place where ancient wisdom met contemporary knowledge, where tradition and innovation intersected in a delicate balance.

Shoko couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Everything was so new and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the comfort and familiarity of her previous school. She was no longer of the regular world, that’s what Yaga–sensei said. She had to do well. She wanted to do well.

For the first time in her life, finally felt like she wasn’t different. Beneath the surface of her bubbling apprehension, there was also a sense of excitement—and anticipation of the adventures and opportunities that awaited her at Jujutsu High. She was a sorcerer now. She belonged here. And she felt it.

She started to cheer for herself, a little magic spell that calmed her down – that got the tension high. Shaking her arms, she started to whisper to herself over and over, ‘it was going to be okay!’ and ‘you’re so strong!’ like she actually meant it. Shoko thinks looking back at it now, it's the most embarrassing thing. But as a young woman, she supposed it felt like it was genuine enough. It got her through life, after all.

As Shoko composed herself and started to walk forward, she halted as she felt her eyes twitch over the loud voices echoing across the halls. The brown eyed woman suddenly found herself in the middle of a fight, or at least that’s what that looked like.  Two white-haired individuals, a tall boy and a girl, caught her attention as they engaged in a boisterous, fight, or conversation — Shoko wasn’t sure.

For a moment, Shoko thinks to herself that the feeling of a surge of apprehension welling up within her and returns like a brutal punch. So much for the charm she cast on herself. She scoffs. She’s never doing that again. The commotion and energy radiating from the pair on the other side of the hallway seemed to overwhelm her senses, and she couldn't help but think that dealing with them would be far too much trouble. Wait—are those gonna be her classmates? 

Shoko bit her lower lip. Yaga–sensei did say her two other classmates would be hectic and loud. But Shoko didn’t expect them to be this loud. They’re way too loud for her already. Shoko thinks at that moment that she wishes there was a chance for a smoke. To get her through this. But she curses under her breath. Smoking is prohibited in the school. Yaga–sensei did say that there are sprinklers too. 

Taking a deep breath, Shoko closed her eyes briefly, silently reciting a more suitable mantra to calm her nerves. Over and over again, she repeated it. She felt the tension in her muscles ease as she shook her arms, whispering reassuring words to herself over and over again.

"It's going to be okay," she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're going to go eat some coffee jelly later. There’s a konbini nearby. You can smoke too. Just hold on, Sho. Hold on.”

As Shoko discreetly edged closer, her curiosity peaked, her steps faltering as she strained to listen in on their conversation. With narrowed eyes, she leaned in even closer, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to catch every word exchanged between the two.

Every 'HAH!?' and 'HUH!?' was recorded in her mind, every pitch, sound, vowel, texture, and existence. The two bantered like children, their tongues wagging and fingers flipping off in a playful exchange that filled the air with laughter and warmth.

"I'm telling you, the kikufuku strawberry mochi from granny Kirei is the best,"  The tall boy declared with a playful grin, his hands gesturing animatedly as he made his case. His dark rimmed glasses lowered, the bluest eyes Shoko had seen echoed across the hall. “Why argue at all? We tasted every flavor. Nothing has EVER topped granny Kirei!”

You seemed to have a spirited twinkle in your eyes, as you shook your head at your brother—face full of mock disbelief. You cross your arms with a huff. "Hah!? No way, four eyes! Red bean mochi from grandpa Nemui is clearly superior. It's the perfect blend of sweet and savory! You’re just too much of a loser to admit that!”

The tall boy chuckled maniacally at his sister's defiance, leaning in closer with a playful glint in his eyes. "Come on, sis, don't be ridiculous," he snickered, nudging you gently with his elbow. "Everyone knows that strawberry mochi is the ultimate flavor. It's like a burst of sunshine in your mouth! Unlike that salty little—”

You rolled your darker blues back at him, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Oh please," you retorted, nudging him back with equal playfulness. "Red bean mochi has been a classic for generations. It's a timeless delicacy that never fails to satisfy. You’re just, once again, too much of a loser!”

"And what about you, no-name?" Satoru suddenly turned to the other side of the hall, his grin widening as you followed your brother as he turned his body. "What's your take on the great mochi debate?"

You look at him with a raised brow, curious. “Your six eyes picking up something? I’m surprised it took you too long.”

“Sometimes it takes time, little sister. Not perfect everyday!” Your brother retorted haughtily as he put his hands on his pockets. “Come on now, don’t be shy, no–name. We’re going to be classmates, after all!”

As the white haired boy's attention shifted across the hall, Shoko couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over her. She watched with bated breath as his gaze landed on her, his grin widening with mischief as you followed suit, her curious eyes assessing Shoko with a raised brow.

Shoko can admit she felt truly caught off guard by their sudden interest. But she supposed that she was a stranger to them. Shoko felt a flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach.

Her cursed energy must have been leaking throughout, spiking high with her nerves. She swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to gather her thoughts. With a quick glance around to ensure no one else was the subject of their attention, she pursed her lips. 

As Shoko took a hesitant step forward, she couldn't shake the feeling of being under a microscope, every movement and word scrutinized by the two enigmatic figures before her. Despite her best efforts to appear composed, her nerves betrayed her, her palms growing clammy and her heart pounding in her chest.

The tall white haired boy gave her a playful grin and it only widened as he waited for her response, his eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity. His sister, standing beside him, observed Shoko with a mix of amusement and intrigue, her expression unreadable yet somehow inviting.

“You don’t have to answer my brother if you don’t want to.” You grinned at Shoko, deep blue eyes echoing through the sunlight. You smiled at her as though Shoko was the only one that mattered. “He’s over zealous about things, it's ridiculous!”

In that moment, as Shoko's eyes met yours, she felt a spark of recognition stir within her, a sense of familiarity that she couldn't quite place. There was something about you, something captivating and alluring, that left her breathless. Suddenly, the nervousness was replaced by this tender warmth — warmth she had never felt before.

“HAH!? I was not!”

“You were!”

“Was not!”

“You were, four eyes!”

“You take that back!”

“No!”

No matter how mature you are — Shoko supposed that you will always be like a child with Gojo Satoru. You were two peas in a pod, the same and different all at once. But you were one soul cleaved into two. Satoru liked to think that the most. You did too, all your life.

As Shoko watched the two of you engage in their playful banter, she found herself at a loss for what to do. The argument escalated with each exchange, their voices growing louder as they traded playful insults back and forth. They almost reminded her of children, who would get louder and louder, trying to win no matter the cost. 

Caught in the crossfire, Shoko couldn't help but feel like an outsider, unsure of how to interject or if she even should. Part of her wanted to step in and diffuse the tension, while another part of her was intrigued by the dynamic between the two siblings. But she supposed it was better to just let the two of you be.

Maybe you’ll get tired, maybe you’ll back off. Shoko thinks that over the years — she learned to just let the two of you be the children that you were together. Because you smiled at Satoru afterwards. She loved it when you smiled, even if it wasn’t for her.

As their argument continued to escalate, Shoko shifted slightly, her own feet tapping lightly against the floorboards. She was unsure of whether to stay and observe or make a hasty retreat. Maybe she could find Yaga–sensei and get herself some peace and quiet.

So that she can finally go to the konbini and get a pack of cigarettes, with her fake id and then a snack, that good coffee jelly brand. Just as much, Shoko can’t pretend that she didn’t feel like an intruder if she butts into the situation. 

But then they stopped, you huffed and puffed, as you looked away from your brother. Your brother rolled his eyes at his little sister and turned to Shoko.

“Tell me, seriously — what do you like in mochi?”

Shoko wonders how the two of you could just stop fighting and just pretend that nothing happened. But she supposed you both just knew when it would stop. She still wonders everyday how you dealt with Satoru like that, even growing up. Shoko blinked for a moment, she never really liked sweet things. Not even when she was a kid. But maybe this will come to an end when she gives you an answer. Shoko took a deep breath, she summoned her voice and spoke, her words carrying a hint of uncertainty but also a quiet resolve.

"I don’t like sweet things that much….” Shoko began to say to you. "But I’ve always had a soft spot for the classic red bean flavor. My grandma used to make it when we visited her.”

As Shoko voiced her opinion, her words were met with a sudden lull in the siblings. The white haired sister turned her attention towards Shoko, her eyes narrowing with pleasure as she considered her response. They had the same taste.

Your brother looked at Shoko as though she had grown a second head. Shoko realized that she never really got your brother’s acquired taste for something sweet. You join him, Shoko supposed, to amuse him. But nothing beyond that, she thinks.

The tall boy, on the other hand, wore an unimpressed pout on his face, his gaze alight with disappointment as he studied Shoko’s nonchalant look. "Red bean, huh?" he remarked with forlorn. “You and my sister are both weird! How can you not like sweet things – let alone in good ol’ mochi?”

“Not everyone has the same insane diabetic palette as you, Satoru.” You retorted at your brother, snickering at him and his disappointment. “Besides, red bean flavor is a classic! It’s the very fabric of the Japanese experience!”

“Oh, that’s…shut up!” The dark rimmed glasses went up, his eyes hiding in the darkness. Yet he still pouted like a child. Shoko wonders if he was more a five year old than a high schooler. He straightens himself and looks at Shoko. “You’re missing out, you know?”

“I don’t think so.” Shoko retorts to the boy, now she knows he was named Satoru and snickers. “I’m happy with what I like.”

“But wouldn’t you give this a chance?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

You nudge him playfully with your elbow. "Leave her alone, Satoru," you chided, your tone affectionate. "She deserves to like what she likes.”

He simply shrugged at you. "Suit yourself," he replied, his pout still present. "But just know that you're always welcome to join us for a taste test whenever you're feeling adventurous."

He turned back to his sister, the argument starting again as you chide him for acting like a five year old. As the exchange unfolded before her, Shoko couldn't help but feel like laughing at the sight of you both. Yet now, she stood there – wondering if she should leave now. You then blink and panic as you realize that you neglected Shoko again, distracted by your brother. You hit her brother over the side of his head as you grew red and flustered.

“OW!? What was that for, you witch?”

“You distracted me — we just forgot and ignored her. It was rude, Satoru!” You scolded your brother, who was rubbing the back of his head, crying. You bowed deeply to Shoko and started apologizing. Shoko realized that you look really cute when you’re flustered. You now turned to your brother.“You apologize!”

“I–I’m so sorry!”

As the white-haired boy continued to rub his head and mutter under his breath about how rude you always were to him, you just ignored him and turned to Shoko again. With a warm smile, your eyes reflected a mix of guilt and genuineness, silently acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation.

"Sorry about that," you said, your voice soft and apologetic. "My brother can be a handful sometimes."

Shoko couldn't help but notice the warmth in your smile and the sincerity in your eyes. Up close, you seemed even more like a goddess than she had imagined, radiating a beauty that was both captivating and ethereal. It struck her how similar you and your brother were in appearance, yet there was something uniquely mesmerizing about you.

As she met your gaze, Shoko felt a pang of admiration and perhaps a hint of envy. You were undeniably beautiful, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of standing in your shadow. But despite her insecurities, she couldn't deny the pull of your presence, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

You furrowed your brows slightly, realizing that in the midst of the commotion, you had unintentionally overlooked Shoko. "I'm sorry, to you," you said apologetically, your voice sincere. "I didn't mean to ignore you. It's just... well, things tend to get a bit chaotic around here sometimes."

Shoko waved off your apology with a gentle smile, understanding shining in her eyes. "It's okay, really," she assured you. "I know how it is, especially with everything going on."

Your brother, Gojo Satoru, chimed in as he rubbed the small of his back. "Yeah, sorry about that too," he added, his tone lighthearted. "We can get a bit carried away sometimes."

Shoko looks at you softly, shaking her head. "No need to apologize," she replied, her voice warm. "I'm just happy to be here, getting to know everyone."

You smiled appreciatively at Shoko's understanding, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between the three of you. "Well, we're glad to have you," you said sincerely, your gaze meeting hers. "And if you ever feel like we're ignoring you again, just give us a shout. We promise to pay attention this time."

Shoko chuckled at your words, feeling at ease in your presence. "I'll keep that in mind," she said with a playful grin. "Thanks, both of you."

There you go again, smiling at her in the most beautiful and wondrous way. There was a comforting aura about you, as if you carried with you a sense of magic that immediately put Shoko at ease. You remained calm and composed, radiating a sense of warmth that enveloped Shoko like a gentle embrace. It was as though you just had a natural talent for making others feel welcome and accepted, regardless of the circumstances.

"Oh, we forgot to introduce ourselves!" you say, your face turning red again. You told Shoko your name. Shoko thinks it rolled off the tongue easily. It was as soft as a feather, as tender as a featherbed. You were warm. And that made her warm inside too. Like it’s summer again. “And the troublemaker beside me is my brother, Gojo Satoru."

Satoru finally regained his composure and grinned sheepishly, offering a casual wave. "Nice to meet you," he chimed in, his tone casual yet friendly. "So, what's your name?" he asked, his blue eyes locking onto Shoko's with genuine curiosity.

"It's nice to meet you too," Shoko replied warmly. "I'm Ieiri Shoko." She watched as Satoru's blue eyes locked onto hers with genuine curiosity. Your own eyes looking at her tenderly.

As the footsteps drew closer, the atmosphere shifted, a palpable tension hanging in the air as the three of them turned to see another student approaching.

Shoko couldn't help but notice the tall, calm demeanor of the newcomer, his long dark hair neatly tied in a bun and his deep purple eyes exuding an air of quiet confidence. His bangs framed his face in a way that Shoko couldn't help but find intriguing, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he would quickly become popular among the students.

Meanwhile, you seemed equally intrigued by the newcomer, your gaze lingering on him as you scanned him from head to toe. Shoko felt a twinge of discomfort at the intensity of your stare, but she remained silent, choosing instead to observe the interaction between you and your brother. Satoru, unable to contain his amusement, let out a snicker that quickly escalated into laughter, drawing curious glances from both Shoko and the newcomer.

Satoru pointed towards the approaching student and exclaimed, "Bangs!" His words were followed by a burst of laughter, infectious in its nature.Your eyes widened in surprise. 

“Hey, Satoru, you can’t just say that! Idiot!”

“B-but, But….” His laughter would not stop. “T-the bangs….”

The other boy, his eyes narrowing in displeasure, approached Satoru with determined strides. His brows furrowed as he confronted the Gojo heir, his voice laced with an unmistakable edge of irritation. "What did you say, four eyes?" he demanded, his tone firm and challenging.

As Shoko observed the exchange between the two boys, a knot of apprehension formed in her stomach. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the crackling energy of their impending clash. She could sense the animosity radiating from their confrontation, the weight of their unspoken grievances hanging heavy in the air.

Despite your attempts to diffuse the situation and prevent further escalation, Shoko felt a growing unease settle over her. She recognized the telltale signs of their cursed energy rising, a surefire indication that things were spiraling out of control. With a sinking feeling in her chest, Shoko braced herself for the inevitable clash, knowing that this encounter could only end in chaos.

As you urged them to cease their conflict before it attracted unwanted attention, Shoko's instincts urged her to act. Ignoring the warning signs, she tugged at your arm, her grip firm and determined. In that moment, she made a split-second decision to intervene, knowing that the consequences could be dire but unwilling to stand by and watch the situation escalate further.

“Do you want to go get coffee jelly with me?”

You looked at her, your eyes blinking at her.

“But what about them—”

She grinned at you. “Let them suffer for that.”

She pulled your hand, and you protested back.

But soon, the alarms were blaring all around.

After the chaotic incident in the hallway, you and Shoko retreated to the convenience store, seeking refuge from the tumultuous events unfolding at Jujutsu High. As you returned later, Shoko stood faithfully by your side, a silent companion in the aftermath of the chaos.

Together, you shared a coffee jelly, the sweetness of the treat contrasting with the bitter taste of the day's events. Despite your shared dislike for the overly sugary dessert, you found solace in each other's company, grateful for the opportunity to get to know Shoko better.

As you and Shoko made your way back to the school grounds, you were met with the sight of your brother and the other boy, you both find out to be Geto Suguru, both nursing bruised egos and battered bodies. The unmistakable crack in the gym hall wall served as a stark reminder of the consequences of their reckless behavior.

Yaga-sensei's swift reprimand awaited them, but you and Shoko were not exempt from punishment. Despite your intentions to intervene and prevent further chaos, you were both scolded for leaving the premises without permission, a stern reminder of the rules and regulations that governed life at Jujutsu High. But Shoko didn’t mind. You kept bowing your head, apologizing though.

As fate would have it, this was her new life.

Ieiri Shoko thinks that her life changed pace.

But she supposed that she liked it that way.

It felt magnetic, being around you everyday.

SHOKO THINKS THAT SHE FELL FOR YOU BEFORE SHE COULD DESCRIBE IT. In the familiar surroundings of Shoko's dorm room, you felt a sense of ease that eluded you elsewhere. It was as if the walls themselves held a comforting embrace, welcoming you into their sanctuary of warmth and familiarity. Ieiri Shoko couldn't help but notice how effortlessly you made yourself at home, navigating the space with a comfort that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond.

As she watched you settle into her bed, Shoko couldn't shake the thought that perhaps you were more at home here than anywhere else. It was a bittersweet realization, one that tugged at her heartstrings and left her grappling with a swirl of conflicting emotions.

On one hand, she was grateful for your presence, for the companionship and comfort you offered her in times of need. But on the other hand, she couldn't help but worry about the toll that your restless lifestyle was taking on you.

She had seen firsthand the toll that the demands of being a Jujutsu Sorcerer could take on a person, the sleepless nights and endless battles that left scars both seen and unseen. She hated seeing you in the healing room – but she just saw you smile each time. Even when you got scolded by her, you smiled. That made her heart pound each time. 

But that also made her feel sad deep down inside. While she admired your strength and resilience, she couldn't help but worry about the toll it was taking on your well-being. Deep down, she knew that she had no right to judge you, not when she had her own vices and struggles to contend with. But just as you worried for her, she couldn't help but worry for you, the weight of her concern settling like a heavy burden on her shoulders.

As you lay there in her bed, lost in your thoughts, Shoko couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you. And that she couldn’t help. She couldn’t stop at it either. Not even if she tried. She loved you too much for that.

As you moved around Shoko's dorm room, Shoko couldn't help but admire the way you meticulously folded your uniform and neatly arranged it on the coffee table. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about your character and attention to detail. She couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and comfort wash over her as she watched you, a feeling of gratitude for your presence in her life.

Returning from a grueling mission, you sought solace in the familiar surroundings of Shoko's room. It was a routine that had become second nature to you both, a silent agreement born out of mutual trust and understanding. Shoko had come to cherish these moments, the quiet intimacy of your presence filling the room with a sense of calm and reassurance.

At first, Shoko had assumed that your visits were a result of your brother's busy schedule, leaving you with limited time to spend together. But as time went on, she realized that there was something deeper at play. It wasn't just about seeking refuge from the chaos of the outside world; it was about finding solace in each other's company, about finding a sense of belonging and acceptance that transcended the confines of the mission.

As you settled onto her bed, Shoko couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you. She had come to cherish these moments together, the simple yet profound connection that existed between you. She enjoyed the warmth of your body under her sheets, the sound of your laughter filling the room with joy and light. In your presence, she felt truly alive, as if the world outside ceased to exist and all that mattered was the here and now.

As she watched you, a smile playing at the corners of your lips, Shoko couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of Shoko's room, she knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be. And for that, she was grateful.

The recent promotion to Grade 1 had indeed brought with it a flurry of responsibilities and assignments, demanding much of your time and attention. Yet, amidst the flurry of activity and the relentless pursuit of excellence, there were moments of quiet solitude that left you feeling unexpectedly lonely.

In those solitary moments, when the demands of duty momentarily subsided, you found yourself grappling with a sense of emptiness that seemed to linger just beneath the surface. Despite your accomplishments and the recognition that came with your promotion, there was a lingering feeling of disconnect, a sense of longing for something more.

Perhaps it was the weight of expectation that accompanied your newfound status, the pressure to excel and prove yourself worthy of the honor bestowed upon you. Or perhaps it was the absence of meaningful connections and companionship in your life, a void that seemed all the more pronounced in the silence of your own thoughts.

Regardless of the underlying cause, the feeling of loneliness persisted, casting a shadow over even the most triumphant moments of success. It was a reminder that, despite your achievements, there was still a longing for something deeper, something more fulfilling that eluded you in the midst of your professional pursuits.

With a weary body, you finally lowered your body and laid down on the bed. As you looked around the room, taking in all the traces of Shoko’s existence — you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the sight of her familiar surroundings. Without hesitation, you made yourself at home, settling into her bed instead of your own. Somehow you felt more comfortable here. You felt more at home where Shoko was.

As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, you finally felt like someone was watching you. Turning to the doorframe, you were met with the sight of Shoko standing there, her expression a mixture of surprise and concern. Despite the exhaustion that weighed heavily on your shoulders, a smile found its way onto your lips as you greeted her.

"Hey, Shoko," you said softly, your voice warm with affection. "Mind if I crash here for a bit?"

Shoko's heart fluttered at the sight of you, her feelings for you bubbling to the surface with an intensity that took her by surprise. As she watched you, lying there in her bed, she couldn't help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions. Part of her longed to embrace you, to hold you close and never let go, while another part of her feared the repercussions of crossing that line.

Shoko grappled with the realization that she harbored feelings for you, feelings that ran deeper than mere friendship or camaraderie. It was a realization that stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her, leaving her torn between the desire to acknowledge those feelings and the fear of the unknown that accompanied them.

Admitting her love for you felt like stepping into uncharted territory, a daunting journey fraught with uncertainty and risk. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was too soon, too premature to declare her affections openly. There were so many unanswered questions, so many variables at play, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to confront them just yet.

The prospect of allowing herself to fully embrace those feelings filled her with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. On one hand, there was the exhilarating prospect of exploring the depths of her emotions and forging a deeper connection with you. On the other hand, there was the nagging fear of rejection, of opening herself up to vulnerability and the possibility of heartache.

In the end, Shoko found herself grappling with a complex web of emotions, unsure of how to navigate the delicate balance between longing and apprehension. For now, she chose to keep her feelings hidden, burying them deep within her heart as she wrestled with the uncertainty of what the future might hold. Until she was ready, she was content with this. She was content with being together with you. 

With a soft smile, she stepped further into the room, her gaze never leaving yours. "Of course, you can stay," she replied, her voice soft and gentle. "You're always welcome here."

As Shoko's soft words washed over you, a sense of relief swept through your weary body, easing the tension in your shoulders. "Thank you, Shoko," you said with a grateful smile, feeling the weight of the day begin to lift from your shoulders.

Settling onto her bed, you patted the space beside you invitingly. "Would you mind joining me?" you asked softly, your voice filled with warmth and gratitude. "Bed’s too big. Can’t lay down here by myself. Not right now.”

Shoko nodded, her eyes reflecting understanding and empathy as she settled beside you. "Of course," she replied gently, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. "I'm here for you, always."

You let out a soft sigh, you look at her apologetically. “I’m sorry. I seem to be out of it.”

She shakes her head at you. “It’s okay. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“I just….”

She leans towards you. “What happened? Do you wanna talk about it?”

You let our lips rest in a flat line. “It was horrible, Sho. I was….I was close to losing it.”

It was a bad case of a very downturned family home and it created a curse, where a child was taken captive for days on end. No one noticed, not until it was far too late and the curse had grown too huge, too big, feeding off the fear of this one child and this child, was about to lose himself. Shoko's attentive gaze never wavered as you began to unravel the harrowing tale of your recent mission. With each word you spoke, she remained a silent witness, her presence a beacon of unwavering support in the tumultuous sea of your thoughts and emotions.

"It was a close call," you confessed, the weight of the memory pressing down on you like a heavy burden. The memory of the child's desperate cries still echoed in your mind, a haunting reminder of the perilous situation you had faced. She could see the forming tears in your eyes. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to save the child in time."

As the words left your lips, you could feel the rawness of your emotions bubbling to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you. Shoko thinks she’s never seen you this down before. Not even with the other bigger missions that were laid at your desk. But this was different.

The fear and uncertainty that had gripped you in that moment resurfaced, sending a shiver down your spine. But even as the darkness threatened to consume you, Shoko remained a steadfast presence by your side. Her unwavering support and understanding served as a lifeline in the midst of the storm, offering you solace and comfort in your time of need.

With each passing moment, you found yourself opening up to her, laying bare the depths of your fears and vulnerabilIties. And as you spoke, you felt a sense of catharsis wash over you, the weight of your burdens slowly beginning to lift. It was always like this when you were with Shoko. Somehow, everything was easier. Somehow, everything felt like it was something that wasn’t hard at all — living, being young, being trapped in the world of Jujutsu sorcery. 

In the safety of Shoko's presence, you found the courage to confront your demons, to face the darkness within and emerge stronger for it. And as you gazed into her eyes, filled with empathy and compassion, you were lucky. You were so lucky to have Shoko by your side. But she thinks she was way more lucky with you. Because you were the angel that made her life mean something. More than anything, you saved her. And she was so happy, so so happy with that.

Shoko's touch was like a gentle caress, her hand resting warmly on your arm as she offered words of comfort and reassurance. "You did everything you could," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing melody in the midst of your turmoil. "I’m so proud of you, you know.”

The sincerity in her words washed over you like a wave, easing the tension that had knotted your muscles. You couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude towards her, knowing that her unwavering support was a beacon of light in the darkness.

Your eyes sparkled with emotion as you met her gaze, her words resonating deep within your soul. "You're always so kind to me," you whispered, the depth of your gratitude evident in your voice.

A smile tugged at Shoko's lips, her hand delicately brushing against your face. "And so are you," she replied, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "It goes both ways, doesn't it?”

As you looked into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passed between you, a shared bond that transcended words. Your hand instinctively reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the simple gesture filled with tenderness and affection.

In that fleeting moment, as the world around you melted away, it was just the two of you, enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy and passion. Your hearts beat as one, synchronized in the rhythm of love, as your faces drew closer, drawn together by an irresistible magnetic pull.

With a gentle touch, your lips met in a tender kiss, igniting a firestorm of emotions that blazed brightly in the depths of your souls. It was a kiss filled with the sweetness of affection, the warmth of devotion, and the promise of a future intertwined together.

As your lips lingered against each other's, time seemed to stand still, allowing you to savor the exquisite taste of each other's love. In that moment, all doubts and fears melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of certainty and belonging.

It was more than just a kiss; it was a declaration of love, a vow to stand by each other's side through every storm and every triumph. And as you pulled away, breathless and filled with euphoria, you knew deep in your hearts that this bond, this connection, would endure for eternity.

You smiled at her like she was your world.

Ieiri Shoko smiled back, like you were hers.

You both start to laugh tenderly together.

That kiss just magnetized her closer to you.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

YOU NEVER PUT LABELS ON ANYTHING. That’s at least what Shoko’s mother said to her when she was younger. She was a single mom, one that had experienced heartbreak over and over again. And at a young age, Shoko had watched that repeat, as each and every time, she watched Shoko grow up, watching every bit of the man that had left their lives blossom in Shoko. There was so little permanence in the world, her mother added, other than parting and sorrow. Shoko thinks her mother was right.

Shoko thinks it was right that even when you loved one another, you never put a label on what your relationship was. Because it was easier to just pretend. To detach about the personal, the depth of one’s very heart. That’s what you wanted, because you knew that the moment you woke up from that mission with Nanami and Haibara, you would never be the same.

You were slowly withering before her eyes. You were not long to live a long life, one that you had imagined with her each and every night in her bed. You weren’t meant for that and she hated that she knows too well that you’re right. 

You still smiled at her, you still laid in her bed. You still wrap your arms around her each night. You still were ever so present. Ever so attached, ever so devoted to Shoko. And yet she knew, she knew too well, she knew too much, that there will come a time that it wouldn’t be the case.

That your scent won’t linger in her room anymore. That your bellowing laughter wouldn’t ring out of her ears anymore. That she wouldn’t feel your touch one day anymore. She tried not to cry, she tried not to show you any sadness in her eyes either. But she knows that you know. She knows too well that you can read her like she was the back of your hand. 

Your brother watched your figure laying in silence, sleeping so peacefully on your side of Shoko’s bed. These days, Shoko and he had become ever so obsessed with watching you sleep. Watching you breathing. The sight of you limping in your own blood, disfigured by the curse with cuts and wounds — it was hard to get out of their head. They think that it wasn’t easy. You were too much of a hero for your own good, wanting to save Nanami and Haibara. Nanami told them everything. 

The memory was etched vividly in Nanami’s mind, like a scene from a nightmare that refused to fade with time. It was a dark and ominous night, the air heavy with the scent of blood and the stifling presence of curses lurking in the shadows.

As you arrived on the scene, you found Nanami and Haibara locked in a desperate struggle against a Grade 1 curse, their strength waning as they fought to hold back the relentless onslaught of malevolent energy. It was supposed to be a Grade 2 curse – that’s what the report said. You were nearby and you felt it. It was way more than a Grade 2  curse. Without hesitation, you rushed to their aid, your heart pounding with adrenaline as you prepared to face the formidable foe.

Nanami's voice cut through the chaos, urgency evident in his tone. "Protect Haibara, I'll handle this one!" he shouted, his eyes locking with yours as he faced the looming threat.

The curse, sensing your interference, split itself into two entities, a sinister grin spreading across its grotesque features as it sought to overwhelm both you and Nanami simultaneously. Haibara struggles, already wounded from when he couldn’t dodge the curse’s attack.

With lightning-fast reflexes, you darted between the two, deflecting blows and launching counterattacks with all the skill and determination you could muster. "Stay focused!" you shouted to Nanami, your voice strained with exertion as you fought to keep the curse at bay.

But the curse was relentless, its attacks coming faster and fiercer with each passing moment. As Nanami urged you to prioritize saving Haibara, you made a split-second decision, throwing yourself into the fray to protect your comrade at any cost.

You fought with everything you had, your mind focused solely on the task at hand as you battled against the curse's relentless onslaught. "I won't let you harm him!" you growled, your resolve unwavering in the face of danger.

But despite your best efforts, the curse proved to be too cunning, outmaneuvering you at every turn until, with a vicious strike, it managed to land a devastating blow.

As the curse's dark energy coursed through your veins, you felt a searing pain unlike anything you had ever experienced before. In that moment of agony, you knew that you had been cursed, your fate sealed by the very creature you had fought so valiantly to defeat.

And as darkness closed in around you, you couldn't help but wonder if it was all worth it, if your sacrifice had truly made a difference in the end. But as unconsciousness claimed you, one thought lingered in your mind: you had done everything you could to protect your comrades, even if it meant facing the consequences alone.

Yu Haibara was killed soon after.

Gojo Satoru had arrived at the scene.

Nanami rushed to you and to Haibara.

It was a horror scene, one from hell.

He doesn’t want to see it again.

Gojo Satoru's usually vibrant demeanor was subdued, his usually lively eyes now clouded with concern as he turned to Shoko. He doesn’t usually drink, but he has a cup of the sweetest alcohol now and then. But whiskey was somewhat a good lullaby for the pain. And Shoko agreed. The weight of the news about your condition hung heavy in the air, casting a somber shadow over the room.

Despite his efforts to maintain composure, there was an unmistakable hint of sorrow in his voice as he addressed Shoko, his words weighed down by the gravity of the situation.

"How long does she have?" he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on Shoko's face. 

Gojo's inquiry hung in the air, the weight of his concern palpable as he awaited Shoko's response. His gaze remained fixed on her, searching for any glimmer of hope amidst the heavy news.

Shoko's heart sank as she grappled with the weight of her response. Each word felt like a burden, heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead. "The level of curse on her is extreme," she began softly, her voice tinged with sorrow. "But she's fighting with every ounce of her cursed energy. Maybe a few years, at most."

The weight of Shoko's words seemed to settle upon Gojo like a heavy shroud, his expression falling as the reality of the situation sunk in. A pang of guilt gnawed at his heart, the weight of responsibility pressing down upon him. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret and sorrow for the pain you would endure.

In that moment of shared vulnerability, Shoko's heart swelled with gratitude for Gojo's understanding. She shook her head gently, her eyes brimming with empathy as she reached out to reassure him. "Don't be sorry," she said softly, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room. "I'm the one who's sorry that I can't do more to help her."

A palpable silence enveloped them, thick with unspoken emotions and shared sorrow. Then, Gojo's voice broke through the quiet, his words heavy with emotion as he turned his gaze to Shoko, his concern evident in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, the vulnerability in his tone echoing the turmoil of his own heart.

Caught off guard by the depth of Gojo's concern, Shoko hesitated, her facade of strength crumbling in the face of his genuine care. "I'm fine," she replied automatically, her voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

But Gojo saw through her bravado, his gaze softening with understanding as he reached out to offer her comfort. "It's okay not to be okay," he said gently, his words a soothing balm to her wounded soul. "I'm not okay either. I've cried more times than I ever have in my life, losing Suguru and now... losing my sister too."

In the embrace of Gojo's comforting arms, Shoko felt a wave of solace wash over her, easing the burden of her grief, if only for a moment. Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked, a silent testament to the pain and sorrow that weighed heavily on her heart. "It's not fair," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion as she clung to him for support.

Gojo held her close, his own tears mirroring her anguish as he whispered words of reassurance in her ear. "No, it's not," he agreed softly, his voice thick with emotion. "But we'll get through this together. I promise. So be strong for you. Be strong for her. Even when you can't."

In that moment, Shoko wondered how he could feel like this. She thinks he had a better right to feel worse. He lost the person he loved and now he was about to lose the other half of his soul. Yet Shoko thinks that being enveloped in the warmth of their shared sorrow, Shoko found solace in Gojo's unwavering presence. She was thankful.

Despite the darkness that surrounded them, she knew that as long as they faced it together, they could find a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. And with that realization, a flicker of determination ignited within her, strengthening her resolve to weather the storm ahead, hand in hand with the one she held dear.

As you slowly woke from your deep sleep, the world around you gradually came back into focus. You found yourself nestled in Shoko's dorm room, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains casting a serene ambiance over the space. With a gentle smile, you turned to face Shoko, who stood by the doorframe, watching over you with a look of fondness.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep," you murmured softly, your voice still tinged with drowsiness from your deep slumber.

Shoko shook her head gently, her smile warm and reassuring. "It's fine," she replied softly, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. "You didn't miss much."

In that moment, as you lay there together in the stillness of the night, a sense of peace washed over you, wrapping you in it's comforting embrace. And as Shoko pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, you couldn't help but return her smile, grateful for her unwavering presence by your side.

As Shoko observed your gentle smile, a surge of warmth flooded her heart, filling her with a profound sense of affection. With each curve of your lips, she felt herself drawn closer to you, as if your smile held an irresistible gravitational pull, effortlessly pulling her into your orbit. In that fleeting moment, as she stood beside you, she felt a deep sense of devotion blossom within her, a commitment to preserving the joy and happiness reflected in your smile for as long as she possibly could.

In the quiet intimacy of the room, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, Shoko's gaze lingered on you, her heart brimming with tenderness and adoration. She knew that she would go to great lengths to protect that smile, to shield you from the darkness that threatened to dim its radiance.

For in your smile, she found solace, hope, and an unwavering sense of purpose—a beacon of light guiding her through the darkest of nights. And as she stood by your side, she vowed to cherish every moment spent in your presence, knowing that your smile held the power to illuminate even the darkest corners of her soul.

As you both lay there, enveloped in the comfort of each other's presence, Shoko's voice broke the peaceful silence. "Hey, once we graduate... we should live together again," she suggested, her tone filled with warmth and affection.

You hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your features. "I don't want to burden you," you replied softly, your eyes meeting hers.

But Shoko shook her head, her expression earnest. "You would never be a burden to me," she insisted, her gaze unwavering as she searched your eyes for any sign of doubt.

You could see the unspoken words lingering on the tip of her tongue, the emotions swirling beneath the surface. But instead of voicing them, you simply smiled at her, a silent acknowledgment of her unwavering support.

"Okay," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll live with you."

As Shoko smiles and leans in to kiss you, a rush of bittersweet emotions floods her heart. In that tender moment, she can't help but reflect on the magnetic pull that drew you both together, like two stars orbiting each other in a celestial dance. But beneath the surface, she knows that nothing lasts forever. Inevitably, the forces that brought you together will begin to wane, replaced by the slow, steady drift of separation. It's a reality she's all too aware of, a truth she's learned to accept.

Yet, despite the looming specter of heartbreak, Shoko finds solace in the present moment. She resolves to savor every precious second spent with you, to relish the warmth of your embrace and the sweetness of your kisses.

For Shoko, there are no labels, no promises of forever. There is only the here and now, and the simple joy of being with you. And as long as she can feel that magnetic pull, that undeniable connection between you, she'll gladly weather the storms of uncertainty and cherish the moments they share together.

Ieiri Shoko kept her promise.

As you did, for nearly a decade.

That magnetic pull, that decade.

It was eternity to her, that she knew.

This life to the next, she believes it.

[smokeys-house]

The Cane King's Daughter

⭐️Art by @sator-the-wanderer, story by @smokeys-house ⭐️

⭐️Also available on ao3!⭐️

✨️Part two TCKD: A Story for Another Time available here✨️

Storms at sea are no rare occurrence. Squalls that sweep ships to their sides may be daunting, but no more so than the tumult of the lives of all folk, land or sea. Captain Whetstone, a self made pirate born on the coast of France, has made rather a name for herself. A large and fluffy brown moomin, she grew up hearing the stories of a free life at sea. 

She sat wide upon a chair in the cabin of her ship. The strain of a pirate's life wore heavily upon her brow. The early days were rife with plunder and excitement, raucous laughter and cheers. She'd made it, or so she would've thought. She'd got the merry life she'd wanted, as for whether it'd be a short one would be up to the rule of law. 

'Perhaps I've been at it too long.' the captain thought to herself. She sighed aloud, staring into the vanity mirror as if looking past herself. "Rouse yerself. Yer a captain, not some layabout on a fishing trip." She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and made for the deck. She'd grown weary of taking scores and the thrill of living on the run.

The crew still aboard The Honeyed Word were working diligently; hauling crates to and from the port, maintaining the ship, or otherwise making themselves useful. Marseille was bustling, lively, and lousy with merchant ships. The local law, while concerned about piracy, were not so eager to challenge those engaged in its splendors. Collecting a bribe was practically by the books in Marseille. It wasn't the pirate haven of Nassau, but at least here she could try to lie low for a while. 

The salted sea air mingled nicely with the smell of cookery and the commotion of working sailors as the captain made rounds amongst what crew remained on deck. 

"Cap'n." A grizzled old hemulen woman wiped the sweat from her brow. "Most of the crew 'ave headed into town. I assume you can simply follow the ruckus if ye be needing to find them." Her voice was coarse and thick, but with a sense of duty. 

"As it happens, I fear I may be in search of drink myself." The captain shielded her eyes from the sun with her paws. "Keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone." 

"Promise me ye don't be up to nothin' foolish. I seen that bored look you been wearin'."

"No foolishness here, Ruthie. Just a quick nip, and maybe a rest in a bed what ain't rollin' on the waves." She patted the hemulen woman on the back with a hearty thud, to which she chuckled mirthfully.

The way into town was fraught with people of all classes and lifestyles; merchants, traders, sailors, simple common folk, rich and poor. Marseille was a well populated city, and drew in people from all over. The captain trod a familiar path to her preferred local pub, one of the few she hadn't been run out of in recent memory. Despite the relative ease with which she carried herself, being spotted by knowing eyes would likely spell trouble, or at the very least more excitement than she was looking for. 

"Didn't think I'd see you in here again, after last time." The barkeep didn't look up from polishing his glass. 

"I'm not sure I remember the last time. Much to see around these parts I'm afraid, sometimes too much." She eyed a table of navy men in the corner as she approached the counter. It was a clean establishment, not necessarily upscale, but it did at least serve the more well-to-do in days long since passed. The place was littered with well crafted furniture and gave an air of high status, but the clientele quickly dimmed the illusion. The velvets adorning curtains and chairs had all faded, and some were torn in spots. 

"What'll you have, Whetstone?"

"That'll be captain Whetstone from you. Pour me anything what ain't rum n' cask-water, and you can call me whatever you like!" The two shared a laugh as the bartender filled two tankards with ale. 

"Word on the street is your boys are already wreaking havoc. Half my usual patrons have made themselves scarce. You've only been in town a couple of days I thought, but from the way folks are talking I would've thought the devil himself had popped up on our doorstep, and made himself at home." 

"Oh, how lovely." Whetstone sighed and eagerly watched the man pour. "I'd have thought by now the folks 'round here would've been dreadfully bored by that sort of thing." She paid for the two drinks and clinked glasses with the bartender. "Not like the navy men do it any different while docked. We're all fixin' t' crack Jenny's teacup!"

"Aye, but your 'Jenny' is more often than not someone else's 'Sally', ye damn dog."

Whetstone raised a finger as she drank deep from her mug. "So long as she's not your Sally I'd say I'd done no wrong. Not my fault no navy men know how to keep a woman in good spirits!" She had a charismatic and an almost musical way of speaking, it was as though everything she said was a line in a play.

"And how might that be, oh great and wise slayer of maidens?" 

"Spirits!" She motioned to the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, sharing a hearty cheer with a few eavesdropping barflies. 

"And what might it be that brings you to Marseille once more?"

"Naught but the wetting of m' whistle and the tireless search fer comp'ny I reckon. I'm not quite so sure, I think I just wanted t' see yer ugly mug once more!"

She spent a few coins and hours there, seemingly wasting the day away. She knew that she wasn't searching for much of anything, and that she was simply tired of the hardships she'd chosen for herself. 'What use is a free life if I can't live it quietly?' She thought. 'All the excitement out t' sea, and all I'm wanting fer is a quiet day indoors.' Perhaps she'd grown weary of her trade, but taking a day for herself surely wasn't what you'd expect if you'd heard the stories about her. 

"That's her right over there. The glum looking gal in the coat." Whetstone's musings were interrupted by murmurs rolling like thunder into jeers. The calm if somewhat gruff environment quickly became rife with tension.

"Seems our mutual friends have spotted a familiar fiend." The barkeep kept his paws busy, still cleaning glasses from patrons past. The captain appeared more tired by the idea than worried, propping herself up on the bar with her arms. 

"You've got some nerve. Swingin' your snout 'round here like it weren't still smellin' of my girl's perfume." The hemulen navy man tucked one thumb into his belt as he approached, glancing over his shoulder back to his fellows. 

" 'fraid I haven't seen your girl since she were someone else's. Last I checked, and likely still, she belonged to herself. Let's keep our paws in our pockets, shall we?" 

"She seems t' think quite highly of you." His words were dripping with venom as he looked the captain up and down. He either had a chip on his shoulder or something to prove. "Turn 'n face me you bilgerat. I'm fixing to see what she thinks is so special!" 

"Quiet over there!" A younger fillyjonk man spoke up from the corner, his face mostly obscured by a hat tilted over it. "Some of us are trying to drink in peace."

"What's it to you, boy? Shut yer gob afore I shut it for you!" The navy man leading the group continued to shout, tensions rising among the men behind him. He grabbed the captain by the collar of her coat. "Don't think even for a second I've not seen your face on them posters. Teachin' you a lesson and gettin' paid for it? Price on you's enough to split with these boys and then some." 

The captain's eyes darted to and fro, seeking any opportunity to turn this around. The navy men must've numbered at least a dozen in total, all surrounding her. Them aside, patrons flanked them on all sides, acting as likely obstacles. Just as the situation was looking its grimmest, a near full glass flew across the room, finding its target to be the head of the man nearest Whetstone. 

That one thrown drink began a large-scale brawl encompassing the entirety of the bar. The glass distracted the leader of the pack long enough for Whetstone to throw the first punch, square in the snout. The rest of the navy men, unable to tell the shouting of patrons from aggressors, and unable to tell who threw the cup, tore through the establishment. Skirmishes filled every corner of the room.  The bartender calmly ducked into a room just behind the bar as it all began to unfold. The captain danced among the crowd, dodging blows and delivering them herself. 

"This way!" Beckoned the be-hatted fillyjonk man, motioning to the alley entrance he was holding open. Whetstone fought her way through the flinging of paws at maws and more thrown drinks, toward the only friendly face in sight. 

Just then, the bartender returned from the storage room behind the counter with a flintlock rifle and pistol in tow. He fired the musket straight into the ceiling, the boom overcoming the sound of the raucous crowd. For a moment, everyone stopped. 

"Out of my bar." He spoke quite plainly, as though it were simply closing time. The navy men stopped their brawling and regained focus, looking about the room for their previously cornered quarry.

"Over there! After her, boys!" The sailors that still stood gave chase, stumbling over chairs and glasses underfoot. 

In all the excitement, the captain had only just made it to the door when the gun went off. Her and her new acquaintance darted alley to alley, their pursuers forcing them through markets and over fences. Though the chase felt to them as intense as any they'd ever seen, it must have been quite the sight to see that many drunkards speedily shambling across town.

The shouting got further and further away, and luckily the throngs of the afternoon crowd began filling the streets once more. If it weren't for the simple fact that the captain hadn't been at the bar for as long as the rest of them, they likely would have caught up to her. She'd wisely abstained from anything too strong while in public, but a belly full of beer hardly makes for good running. With her wits mostly about her, and her ego intact, she'd made good on her escape thanks to a kind stranger. 

Soon after, the busy dockside streets and afternoon sun quickly shifted into wealthy homes and a dimming evening sunset as the two evaded their would-be captors. Once they felt they had lost their assailants, the two caught their breath and the young man calmly led Captain Whetstone to a lovely gated garden bordering the wealthier part of town. It was well kept and filled with vibrant pinks, deep purples and reds, and a sweet floral aroma mixed with the salt of the nearby sea. Ornate metal bars formed a fence, wrapping the exterior of the garden. 

"There's a greenhouse here where we can lie low. I like to come here to get lost for a while." The young man's voice shed pretense for a moment.

"Fine work, lad! And yer sure no nosy gardener's eager to do some midnight pruning?" The captain idly rubbed the petals of a nearby rose as she took in the view. "Posh bit o' living, this. Real pretty, though."

"Didn't think pirates cared for flowers. No, no one'll turn up. This square belongs to a wealthy family, used to be the daughter's. Haven't seen her around here in some time, though."

"We've all got our secrets, lad." She winked as she meandered through the garden to the greenhouse. The moon's rise baked a soft light throughout the interior. She idly rummaged through a cupboard above a potting bench. "Bless me tail! Oy, lad! They've got booze in 'ere! Some fine drink by the look of it. Supposin' the young maiden kept a few secrets, too." She snickered as she uncorked the bottle. She'd sobered a bit since her midday jog, and apparently wasn't eager to continue that trend. 

"What's your name, anyhow? Ya know mine as it seems half of Marseille does these days. Why risk yer life fer a no good pirate?"

"Well… like you said, we all have our secrets, captain."  The young fillyjonk sat upon a stool in the corner, seemingly familiar with the space. Whetstone poured a glass for herself and another for her new friend. The two shared drinks for a while, swapping idle stories late into the evening. The liquor spilled forth as did the relaxation and courage that comes with it. 

"So… you're a pirate, ay?" The man swirled his glass in his paw, not looking up from his drink. "You'd know a thing or two about fighting with a sword, then?" He stood, walking over to the potting bench near where Whetstone sat against the wall. 

"Aye, lad. I'd say I know a thing or two about swingin' a sword. What're ye gettin' at?" She steadied her eyes as they'd just begun to spin, realizing only now the risk of getting too drunk to stand with strangers about. 

"Show me." He tossed her a wooden cutlass from beneath the bench. 

"Secrets, secrets, secrets. My my my..." She caught it deftly, laying it across her lap. "I'm supposin' that's not the only thing y' be hiding from me."

"It's not, but if you beat me, I'll tell all."

"Ha, it'll take more'an that to get me into playfighting a stranger what won't say his name with a wooden toy." 

"Scourge of the seas frightened by a youngblood after just a few drinks?" He used the point of his wooden sword to lift her chin and meet his gaze. Either he'd handled his liquor better than she did, or he was far more cautious than she was.

"Now yer just testing me patience, boy." She pushed aside the sword and finished her drink, rising to her feet. "Ye won't be needing t' set terms fer if'n you win. On account of ye won't. Take the first swing." She stood straight, sword idle in her paw, in an entirely unready stance. She took in a sharp breath, and exhaled slowly. She wasn't unfamiliar with the art of the un-sober sword, but she never did like to lose. 

The man swung, overhead and diagonal to her shoulder. She tucked herself to one side as it flew past and struck the ground. 

"Slow." Captain Whetstone teased. 

He swung again, from left to right, to which she back-stepped. 

"Clumsy." She continued her barbs with a wink.

He thrust at her belly in quick succession, the first one a narrow miss, and the second intercepted by the flat of the captain's wooden blade. 

"Not bad! Once more!" She taunted, now fully engaged. Her feet planted firm and knees bent, she parried blow after blow. He sent out yet another thrust, this time aimed at her chest. 

"Out you go!" She turned his thrust to her outside line and closed in. She turned her point down, pressing the pommel to his ribs, and pushed him out of the greenhouse door into the garden with a shoulder check.

"You're toying with me! Throw a cut at least!" The fillyjonk protested, panting, but on guard after managing to avoid falling flat on his face. 

"Aye lad, I am! But here goes!" She threw a cut at a downward angle to cross his chest, or so it seemed at first. She feinted high, forcing him to guard his head and swung low, giving him a gentle tap on his thigh. "How's that?" She smirked. It was clear he was embarrassed, and perhaps a little upset. His face was red from drink, exertion, and now frustration. He threw several wild strikes out in a vain attempt to land a blow, to which she ducked several. 

"Easy, lad!" She began deflecting his blows, hoping that he'd ease up. He brought his sword up as a club with both hands, over his head, letting out a tense shout as he swung. She blocked it static and right between the two of them, holding the bind. She turned her point under and went for a disarm, tossing his sword aside. Just as soon as his sword hit the ground, as did he, with a swift push on the chest from the captain. She stood over the fillyjonk, pointing her sword at his chest. 

The fillyjonk's hat tumbled back, spilling forth long dark curls, previously tied back with ribbons that had since gone astray. The moonlight soaked into the fillyjonk's fur and hair, cascading shadows from the flowers that she had tumbled into upon onto her muzzle. The contrast between the bright blue flowers, her dark, rolling hair and the soft brown of her fur mirrored that of the shore and a stormy sea. To the captain, she was the very visage of romance. Perhaps it was the light of the moon, or the thrill of the fight, or even the blur of the booze, but she became immediately enamored.

"Well strike me pink! Hell hath no fury, eh? Now the question is, who scorned a bonny lass like you?"  The captain lowered her sword, wearing a surprised grin on her face. "I'm supposin' now would be a good time to cash in on my winnings."

The evening stretched on into night, bringing with it the still presence of the full moon and the quiet breeze carried in from offshore. The night air was cool, and just comfortably so. 

"My name's Marion." The fillyjonk acquiesced, true to her word. "Marion Cartier. It's my rum we've been spilling all night." She crossed her legs as she sat upon the cobblestone amongst the flowers. 

"And this here'd be your garden then? The daughter o' the house as you'd said it. It's beautiful." She cupped the bulb of a flower in her paw. "If yer the daughter of a wealthy family, what business had ye in a bar like that one?" 

"Same business I had in having a private garden. An escape." 

"An' what was that bit afore I pushed y' down? Figure you'd take me in fer the bounty alive after gettin' me liquor'd up?"

"No… it's not that it's just…" Marion hesitated before answering, burning with embarrassment and the rum in her belly. Eventually she settled on telling the truth. "My father was right."

Captain Whetstone sat just across from her, light-heartedly rolling her eyes. "I'm supposin' that's got a story behind it. Night's young and I've nowhere better t' be, might as well let it out."

"He'd have me fall in line or sell me off just the same. If it's not helpful to his business, it hardly matters what I want." 

"Yer a grown woman, can't ye just use all that money o' yers to get yerself a place by yer lonesome? 'S what I'd do."

"The man practically owns me. I won't see any money that doesn't sit in his paws until I take up the mantle." 

"...And the swords?" Whetstone was quick to dismiss the woes of the wealthy and continued sating her curiosity with questions. Despite the blooming feeling in her chest, she still found it difficult to feel sympathy for rich folk.

"Father fancies himself a duelist. I'm… I thought I could get to know him better if I could get him to see me." She eyed her paws, rubbing the areas hardened into calluses by many hours of practice. "Told me it wasn't worth my time to wield a sword. Told me I'd be good for nothing if it wasn't for the family business."

The captain looked over at the wooden swords lying on the ground and cocked her head to the side. "Those ain't dueling swords, lassie. That's a cutlass."

Marion's eyes stayed focused on her hands despite the captain's piercing gaze and raised eyebrow. Silence filled the space for a moment.

"I've uh… I'm not quite sure how to uhm… it's rather embarrassing, I fear. Given present company, especially."

"Spill yer beans. I've drank too much t' sleep now fer fear of hangover. An' it's far too long a night yet fer keepin' secrets. B'sides, I won, remember?" Whetstone laid up against a tree and began picking her teeth with one of her claws.

"You must promise not to laugh."

"Miss Marion, I hadn't realized we were school girls! I ain't laughin' now, but I sure could use a good'un, out with it."

"I thought I could be a pirate. Or a privateer. Something on the sea that isn't in the navy. I'd take off as a stowaway on one of my father's ships with a few good men and strike out on my own."

"If that's yer cover fer trying t' claim my bounty it sure is the most… creative ruse anyone's drummed up against me." 

"I'm not trying to claim the bounty! Even if I was, you'd have killed that dream along with the one you're stepping on now." Marion paused for a short while, composing herself. The frustration in her voice was joined ever so slightly by the sound of tears beginning to well up.  

"Ah, I'm sorry lass, but it's a mite hard to think of someone like yerself at sea… y' need more'an just a few good men and some sword swingin' skills. It's a rough life out there."

"But it's a free one. The sea keeps men honest… in a way. There's bluster, sure, like anywhere else. But the sea asks that you prove it, and I aim to." 

"Aye… ye can't lie to her none, this I know." The captain looked to the sky, feeling a flutter in her chest. She was reminded of her youth, and the first time she felt the call to the sea. Though it hadn't been too many years, most pirates don't last more than a few. "You'll find yer way. The bold ones always do." 

The conversation bled into thoughtful silence, the pair quietly ruminating on past and future. The captain balanced a near empty bottle on her knee, watching the liquor shift and roll within. She examined the label, taking in the details. A mustachioed fillyjonk gentleman wielding a bundle of sugarcane like a royal scepter sat cross-legged upon a throne also made of sugarcane. In his other paw, a coconut prepared to be a chalice. 

"Cartier's Cane King rum blend…" Whetstone continued eyeing the bottle, comparing the fillyjonk on the label with her new friend. "Tell me, what did you say yer name was again?"

–

Captain Whetstone awoke with the early afternoon sun baking into her fur upon a makeshift bed within the greenhouse she had stayed the night before. Her coat had been draped over her like a blanket, and her head was pounding. She stood and stretched, remembering the night prior. 

"I swear I fell asleep in the garden, though…" She thought aloud as she surveyed her surroundings. A note penned in fine handwriting sat upon the potting bench, and was tented neatly.

Ms. Whetstone

I should think you capable of reading seeing as you're a captain. You've given me much to think about. I've many choices to make. I apologize for leaving you unattended, but it's as I said that no one visits my garden. 

I intend to convince my father to teach me about sailing. I'll tell him it's for to learn the family business, and that ought to be enough. Of course, you and I know the reasons why well enough. The next time you see me, it might be out at sea.

I took the liberty of coaxing you into the greenhouse for a more private rest. I've a busy morning to come. 

It was a pleasure meeting you. 

-M

"Coaxed me into the..?" The captain was much too heavy to lift. She imagined Marion rolling her on her side like a big fluffy barrel as she slept. She would've been beet red if it weren't for her thick fur. She donned her coat, shook off the embarrassment, and tucked the note into her pocket. With the morning ending and the afternoon just beginning, she thought it prudent to check in with the crew and nurse her hangover with a late breakfast. 

Rumors of yesterday's excitement had reached every ear, and just as quickly sank into the sand like waves upon the shore. The king's navy almost always had reason to cause a stir and rarely did it ever go quietly, but with such frequency it joined the day's monotony. A chilled breeze and shapely dark clouds portended a storm to come, though the warmth of the sun persisted for the moment. The docks were alive as always, folks walking shoulder to shoulder, hardly taking note of one another. The cacophony of cooking, trading, buying, and selling rang through the air. The cumulative hangover was just beginning to peak as Captain Whetstone sat down to eat beneath an awning at a dockside restaurant. Through the din of the crowd, she could almost make out the song of seabirds and waves lapping on the shore. She didn't take to being in public well, but the liveliness of the docks drawing eyes off of her bought her a modicum of peace. This peace was short-lived, as a garishly overdressed fillyjonk man cut a path around him through the crowd, speaking loudly and with no lack of self-importance. He moved dramatically, as though he was performing a dance, spinning and gesturing flamboyantly.

"What fortuitous timing, you wishing to take up the family business. As it so happens, I've dealings with a gentleman from Curaçao this very afternoon!" 

"Yes, well… I was hoping to start with more on the transportation side of things. Learning to sail ships and the like. I've been doing much reading on the subject." A timid, familiar voice followed shortly after him. 

"Hmm? Oh, of course. I'm sure he'll be just as happy with that if all goes well. Regardless, Marion, how does 'Cartier's Cane King Curaçao blend' sound to you? Bold? Alliterative? Lively? Perhaps, too lively, do you think?" His exaggerated manner of speaking sounded as though all must hear. It was difficult to tell whether he was advertising to the world or simply lost within himself. 

"Who will be happy with that?" Marion rounded the corner, catching up with her father. She was dressed in deep blues, in an outfit that portrayed her wealthy standing and matched her father. The duo stopped perpendicular to the restaurant Whetstone was eating at, looking out at a few ships along the dock. 

"That one there's a wild'un." The captain nudged a nearby patron with her elbow. "Drinks like a sailor 'n aims to be one." The patron patently ignored her idle musings upon seeing they were pointed at the wealthy young woman, assuming it to be a joke with no punch line. She snorted out a quick laugh to herself when comparing Marion's current clothes to her getup the other night. She decided it best to keep her nose out of it and went about finishing her meal. 

"The gentleman from Curaçao, my dear."

"And why should it matter to him whether I learn to sail?" Marion's confusion began to mix with her growing concern. 

"Well you are to be married, after all. I should think him quite pleased to marry a sailor if he needn't a homemaker." He removed his watch from his pocket and stared impatiently at it for a moment. The watch and the fob were both silver that shone bright against the deep blues of his shimmering waistcoat. He slicked his hair back with his paw as Marion stood dumbfounded. 

"Have you no shame?! Selling your daughter off for sugar and spirits! I would think a man of your status would at least have the guts to tell his own daughter about such an arrangement prior. We're done here!" Marion balled her paws into fists, turning to walk away. Just as she turned she felt a tug at the back of her shirt. Her father pulled her back forcefully, turning her to face him. 

"We're done when I say we're done." He scolded under his breath, eyeing passersby in the hopes they hadn't seen his family matters turned public. He placed his paws upon her shoulders, holding her in place. 

"Get off me!" Marion shouted, batting his arms away and making an attempt to flee. Just as she escaped his grasp, he raised his arm high. 

Slap

Captain Whetstone looked up from her breakfast in time to see Mr. Cartier backhand Marion, who stumbled into a stack of tin plates and other dinnerware atop some crates, sending them clattering to the ground. The ruckus drew everyone's attention. Marion's father stood over her and shook his head. He took a clearly practiced stance, placing his hand disdainfully upon his brow, with the other resting on his hip. 

Whetstone shook her head as she slammed her utensils onto the table. She stood abruptly, and threw her chair to the ground as she stomped over to the scene. Without so much as a word, she raised her paw and delivered a powerful open palmed slap to Mr. Cartier's cheek. He crumpled to the ground, both from the surprise of being slapped and from the sheer force of such a large moomin. 

"I'll not have ye befoul my breakfast. Treatin' a young woman, let alone yer own daughter like that. Despicable." She spoke at him gruffly as she helped the young fillyjonk up onto her feet. Marion, awestruck and utterly confused by all of the events that had just transpired, simply stood behind Whetstone. 

"I won't.. take that… from a brute like you!" He panted as he struggled both to speak and to stand back up. 

"Aye, I imagine ye won't. And I don't be takin' nothin' from some fop exceptin' what's in his coffers. Scurry off out, ye bilgerat. I've got a devil of a hangover and I won't be wasting my time on the likes of ye."

"I'll have you arrested! Assault! Assault!" He shouted to the crowd forming around the trio. Much to his chagrin, the group seemed far more interested in seeing a pirate shake down a wealthy man than they were in coming to his aid. 

"Guards! Gendarmerie! Somebody help!" The captain mockingly shouted in a pitiful voice. She spat to the ground near the man. "You think the law around here cares? Look around you. The people who carry your crates fer a coin. The folks who you exploit. Whingeing like that only works on folk what got food in their bellies." She stepped uncomfortably close to him, looking just down on him from a head above his height. "Anything left worth sayin', or are we done here?" The man could only look back at her with glassy eyes, stunned into brief silence. 

"That's what I thought." Whetstone began to walk back to her table when she heard above the shocked whispers of the crowd, the distinct sound of a leather glove being thrown to the ground. 

"A duel. You've thoroughly disrespected me and I'll not have the Cartier name besmirched by a ruffian like yourself." 

The crowd ooh-ed and aah-ed at the prospect. More folks gathered around, wishing to see what the gathering was for.

"What? Here and now? But I 'aven't even finished breakfast." She stopped only long enough to respond as she continued her stride to her table, not even turning to face him. Her gait was immediately interrupted by another leather glove, this one being tossed directly at the back of her head. 

"A coward and a glutton! Afraid to challenge the famed fencing of Jules Cartier! I simply must laugh! Aha! Aha!" He forced out an almost theatrical laugh as he puffed out his chest. It seemed to him the world was a stage, and the thing he feared most was losing the audience. There was hardly a moment he wasn't scanning the surrounding group for approval.

"You'll be wantin' to be careful with what you say next.'' Captain Whetstone growled as she balled her paws into fists, turning to face him once more. "I didn't come to Marseille to kill a rich boy. I came to make merry and sell the scores I took from ponces like you!" She stepped in closer once more, slow and with intention. "Y' have no idea who yer talkin' to, do ya?" Her gravelly voice rumbled. 

"From the smell of it, a drunkard. And from the look of it, a buffoon!" His confidence, though shaken, had returned as he began to shake off the slap. He dabbed at his cheek with a pocket square, and straightened his jacket. 

"She's a pirate captain, father, don't do this!" Marion pleaded. 

"Quiet, Marion!" Jules snapped. "This isn't one of your storybooks!" 

"From the papers! Must you embarrass yourself at every opportunity? She's wanted and very, very dangerous!" 

Whetstone shot her a flattered, knowing look. "Ha! Did y' hear that one, Jules?" She thumped her chest before tucking her arms behind her head with a cocky smirk. "Very… very dangerous." Her gaze was piercing, albeit smug. She was practically inviting him to hit her knowing full well that he wouldn't allow himself to be seen in such a light.

"A duel! I demand it! Face me or be branded forever a coward!" Jules' obstinations were increasingly childlike. 

"As you like it, sugarboy. If I win, yer daughter goes her own way. And you pay off whatever price they got on m' head in Marseille. We fight to first blood, I'm not killing a man in front of his daughter. You let me know the time and place, Cartier. Send someone a'callin' down near this here restaurant. I'll be waitin'." The Captain parted the crowd as she passed. She righted her chair and sat back down, continuing her meal.

"Three days time. When I win, I'll be taking your bounty, and whichever rotten tub you floated in on. Live it up while you still can, Whetstone. You're about to make me even richer." 

Captain Whetstone simply waved as he made his exit, her mouth full. Jules departed, entirely forgetting his daughter and the man from Curaçao. Marion, now the sole focus of a murmuring crowd, rushed to the table her would-be savior sat at.  

"You complete and utter fool!" She slammed her paws down onto the table just across the captain. "You can't just go around inserting yourself into any old trouble you like!" 

"That's a laugh right there." She swallowed her bite. "I seem to recall someone inserting themselves into trouble on my account just the other day. She looked a lot like you, matter o' fact... Took me fer a stroll in the garden in the pale moonlight." She took her last bite and set her utensils on her plate. 

Marion slumped into a nearby chair, placing her head in her hands as the previously interested onlookers began to disperse. There were a few disappointed sighs, and life seemed to return to business as usual. 

"You've no idea what you've done. Not that you'd care if you did, seems you've no thought beyond fun and fortune." She repeatedly cleared her hair from her face, looking into the table rather than across it to the woman now responsible for her fate.

"It's only to first blood, mate. I'll give yer dear ol' dad a good scratch and a scar to remember me by, and you get to goin' on whatever it is you'd like from then on. You've seen what I can do first-hand. It won't be but a quick bout." 

"And I've seen what he can do, as well. He's a liar and a no-good cheat, but a proper duelist through and through. If you win I'll be on the street, and if he wins I'll be married off and you'll be in prison or worse in no small part on my behalf." Her brow furrowed. Her life had capsized and was now in the paws of a scruffy outlaw.

The captain took a small pouch from her belt and laid a few coins on the table near her plate, then slid the pouch over to Marion. 

"I'm sorry, lass. I just can't sit idle 'round men like him. When yer out t' sea, aboard and abroad, y' get to thinkin' all manner o' things 'bout the way folks get on… Whole lot that don't make much sense. I don't know to make a social call by now. I don't know nothin' but me own code." She took a heavy sigh, pulling a long smoking pipe from her coat and chewing on the stem. "Take that there coin and put yerself up some place nice a while. It'll be a payday fer us both 'fore it's over, I promise ye that." 

Marion sat quietly, gripping tight the pouch of doubloons. She wasn't sure what else to say, let alone what else to do. Captain Whetstone trodded off toward her ship, head full of thoughts and ache. Marion followed her not long after. 

"Something more y'need from a… how'd you put it? A 'complete fool' like me?" The moomin turned her head over her shoulder at the woman sulking just behind her.

"You are many things. A rapscallion, a scallywag, a ne'er-do-well, but I fear I spoke unfairly of you in calling you a fool. One of the many things you are now, however, is responsible for me." She sighed deeply. "Whether or not you like it."

"Yer yer own woman ain'tchya? Can go as ye please, afore at least three days are up. I don't be needin' t' look after you." She chuckled. 

"Consider it the price you pay for today's events, and my penance for yesterday's. I hardly think it wise to be anywhere my father could reach me at the moment."

"Won't be fur off my tail. Yer welcome aboard as long as you can stomach it!" She slapped her on the back, knocking her forward a bit as the duo made way to The Honeyed Word. "Hardly the worst punishment I've seen in all me days, 'avin a lass like you aboard." 

The next three days brewed a strange energy for all around. Word got out about the incident at the docks, likely in part due to Jules' boasting. It wasn't enough for him to duel and beat a lowly pirate, nor befitting of his reputation. Whetstone's wanted posters had enjoyed a fearsome makeover, at Mr. Cartier's request. She now appeared monstrous, though devilishly handsome. Her bounty was attributed to both deeds she had done, and now tales some have told. Even in opposition, the fillyjonk could not be associated with the ills and ails of a true and "ugly" world. He did not just want to restore his reputation, he wanted to cement himself as a hero by defeating a villain. Criers, newsmen, even housewives and barflies were alight and giddy over the upcoming duel. A legendary scoundrel pirate versus a noble and upstanding upper crust citizen.

Word had reached the captain's crew by now, who were mostly uneasy toward their new found glory. Being a famous criminal still makes one a criminal, and being famous makes one a target. They'd watched as their normally steadfast captain had begun fawning over a rich young lady, while showing her the ropes as it were. Their new guest had been enjoying the captain's fineries and with none of the work to earn it. The pair spent much of the three days aboard romping about clad in silk, delighting in drink and distraction alike. If it weren't for the prize of having their charges cleared and paid off by someone with deep pockets, and the captain's usually fair treatment, a mutiny might've been in order. There'd been no talk of plans, and any crew that interrupted the captain were brushed off or turned away. It seemed as though their luck would soon run out if their captain remained lovestruck.

Tensions rose onshore surrounding the Cartier business as well, but as tensions rose, so too did the profits. The money minded men of Marseille had begun buying up as much Cane King rum as suited them. Some stocked up to resell and others to enjoy, but all were buying thanks to the sudden and fervent advertising of Mr. Cartier. He'd sent out servants swinging sample trays to swill all over town. The collective drunkenness among citizens alongside the excitement of recent events made for a city wide spectacle. It seemed duels and drinks drove sales and sail alike. 

The buzz surrounding the affair became the calm before the storm on the day of. A party sent by the challenger arrived at the docks in the early afternoon along with a parade of onlookers. The usual liveliness of the harbor was instead abated by prolonged eager silence, joined only by the lapping of the waves and the stomping of boots. 

"Captain Whetstone!" A pair of whompers shouted at each ship they passed, waiting a moment before moving on to the next. They looked for her at the restaurant as she had requested, but she never arrived. The challenger's party consisted of two whompers dressed in deep blues featuring ornate silver trim, a large and muscular hemulen clad almost entirely in leather, and a nibling carrying a long red velvet box. Down the docks they shouted, and down the docks more and more onlookers followed shortly behind. 

"Captain Whetstone!" The whompers cried, over and over above the murmurs that had begun to swell. The captain, still fast asleep in her quarters, awoke with a start. 

"Who wa- is… wha..whasit you want!" She stumbled to her feet, eyes squinted, an empty bottle tumbling from atop her to the floor. She quickly realized the voice was coming from outside the ship, and fastened a robe around her waist. Marion awoke from the commotion as well, following Whetstone's lead. The pair exited the captain's quarters to the sour faces of an armed and ready crew. 

The first mate of The Honeyed Word, an older hemulen woman by the name of Ruth, spoke up from between puffs on her pipe. "I imagine that's fer you Cap'n. They've like to come a'callin' on her account." She motioned to Marion. 

"I imagine so, too, aye. Worry not, I ain't steered you lot wrong yet, 'ave I?" Whetstone winked, and made for the deck, Ruth and Marion following just behind. The mood was tense, and not all of the crew were sure of their captain's judgements as of late. She arrived at the railing, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to see dozens upon dozens of folk, all waiting on her. The leather clad hemulen, who had presumably been hired muscle, shook his head at the sight of the supposed legendary pirate dressed in a frilly nightgown and robe. 

"What do ye want?" The captain shouted. 

"Captain Whetstone!" The whompers cried once more in unison. The nibling in the party opened his velvet case to reveal a long brass horn, about three times his size. He set up a tripod and rested the other end of the horn on it. The small creature drew a deep breath before filling the air with a short, but very very loud melody. The muscular hemulen covered his ears, and shook his head once more. "You've been summoned to duel the great Jules Cartier at his manor! We shall escort you!" The whompers bowed.

Marion appeared just behind the captain, wrapping her arm around the small of her back. She was similarly dressed in a silk robe and nightgown. In her other paw, she held a steaming teacup, and passed it along to Whetstone, who took a long, slow sip. 

"But we 'aven't even had breakfast!" The moomin protested loudly.

"It's past noon!" The hemulen mercenary shouted, palming his face, and shaking his head once more before storming off. He parted the crowd, grumbling to himself on the way out. The nibling took up his horn once more, apparently announcing the departure of one of their party, much to the dismay of the gathered crowd's ears. 

Ruth approached the duo, dropping on the deck just behind them their clothes, and the captain's sword with an unceremonious thud. "Don't be comin' back if ye don't win." She spit to the side.

"When I do come back, we'll be 'avin' words, Ruthie. Strong ones, too, I reckon. Mind yer tongue 'round yer captain." Whetstone began to put on her boots.

"If only ye could mind yers 'round whatever gal ye be fancyin' of late. Wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't fer you. Now the whole of Marseille wants a look at us, and the whole of the world wants the price on our heads. Keep yer promises, cap. Er I'll be keepin' 'em fer you." She headed below deck.

"Whaddaya reckon that means, Marion?" She looked around, puzzled.

"I imagine it was pretty straightforward, but you pirates are a bit hard to understand sometimes. Verbally, I mean." 

The captain wheezed and laughed loudly, wiping a tear from her eye. "That we are!" She continued to get ready. "Anyway don't ye be worryin' about her, either. Everyone's a mite worked up I imagine. She's stubborn, but she's a good'un." She tossed her robe and nightgown onto the deck of the ship as she hopped over to the side of the ship to the dock. 

The whompers were still in their bowed position, and a large chunk of the crowd had begun to disperse before hearing the captain's boots slam onto the wood. She had only dressed halfway up, boots, slops, a sash, a belt and sword. Her thick fur was disheveled and unkempt, an appearance apparently befitting the crowd's idea of a pirate. Ooh's and ahh's once more took shape, whispers and whistling as well. She began pulling her shirt on as she approached her would-be escort crew, coat draped across her arm. Marion shortly after hopped over, dressed quite unlike she had when she'd arrived. She rushed to the captain's side, attempting to avoid the gaze of the murmuring crowd for too long. The challenger's party parted a path as they beckoned the duo along quietly. 

Marseille was silent and empty, shopkeeps shuddered their windows and covered their stalls, passersby rushed indoors, and the captain swaggered through the streets en route to her duel. Deep blue ribbons and brightly colored bits of decor began cluttering their path to Cartier Manor. Though sparse at first, upon nearing the manor proper, the whole of the area was densely decorated. Rugs and flower petals lined the walkway, and whatever surface could have something hanging from it, did. Red roses and white lilies were bouqueted and affixed opposite each other. Even the balconies of houses unaffiliated to the Cartier name had wreaths hung from them. The early afternoon sun baked the clouds in front of it as they gathered, and it seemed as though the sky would open up any minute. The air was humid and filled with the scent of loose flower petals being crushed underfoot, alongside the distant rains. 

The nibling rushed ahead as fast as his little feet would carry him, horn in tow. He set up  his tripod just outside a bespoke iron gate. Just beyond the gate was a vast open courtyard, filled to capacity with all manner of folk, many of which were dressed in finery.

"I'm a mite hazy, but, is yer dad always this.. dramatic?" Whetstone covered her face as she whispered to Marion. 

"Seemingly more so than usual these days. This, I'd say, is less dramatic and more… absurd? Honestly I've given up attempting to understand the man."

 "This way, Captain Whetstone." The whompers once again spoke in unison. They led her just to the side as they ushered the rest of the guests, Marion included, in through the gates. The nibling blasted the same tune as before as each made their way into the courtyard. 

"So I'm not goin' that way?" The captain said, pointing across the fence. 

"No!" The whompers said, cheerfully. Their smiles almost perfectly matched one another, along with just about everything else about them. They seemed as though they were simply pleased to be involved. 

"Can y' tell me which way I am goin'?"

"No!" They cheered once more.

The trio stood for a few more minutes as the nibling welcomed more guests with his horn. 

"Can I go in now?" The captain scratched behind her ears. Her tone was playful, but she was starting to get impatient.

"No!" They sounded almost the same every time. Captain Whetstone gave up and leaned against the fence, arms crossed. She wasn't worried about being late to the duel, nor really very much about the duel itself. The whole affair was turning out far more posh than she had imagined, and with each decoration and each passing upper crust guest, she became less and less worried. She gave into idle thought for a moment. Her mind chose distractions of all kinds, but more and more her mind wandered back to Marion. Had she made the right choice to interfere when she did that day at the docks? Had she done right by her so far? What would become of her next?  

"Ahem" 

"Wah!" Whetstone shouted, recoiling from the sudden interruption. "Who'sat!" She caught herself on the fence. 

A muddler with very long droopy ears dressed in a most garish fashion held her paw out in front of her. Her hat was massive and had a large feather sticking out from it, along with several other adornments. She wore several pin cushions in various places, and a chatelaine of sewing materials hung from her hip. 

"Ahem." She continued to hold out a paw to shake in greeting.

"What? Am I in yer way, or..?"

"Ahem. It's my name."

"What's yer name?" 

"Ahem!" 

"What?!"

The muddler sighed. "My name. My name is Ahem. As in hemming garments. It's what I do. I'm a tailor." She motioned to her collection of sewing tools and accessories.

"Taylor? But I thought y' said yer name was Ahem?"

Ahem patently ignored her. "Mr. Cartier has requested that you come along with me for the time being. Preparations for the… un-seam-ly events to come."

"...right." The captain squinted. "And will there be more sewing puns?"

"We'll put a pin in that one for now." 

"Yer too quick fer me, lass!" She laughed out loud. She was beginning to enjoy herself. Things had taken quite the turn from the serious to the silly, and she was along for the ride.

"Quick indeed." She grabbed the captain by the arm, taking her to a room just inside the manor around the outside of the courtyard. The room was littered with fabric, tools, and mannequins of all shapes and sizes. One of the mannequins featured a fillyjonk-esque head with a familiar mustache made to resemble Jules. 

"Rich bastard's got his own uhh… what do ye even call a room like this? Sewing dungeon?" Whetstone fiddled with just about everything in her path as Ahem snapped back and forth with her measuring tape across the captain's moominous form. 

"Mr. Cartier has appointed me to make a coat for you. Something a little less stolen and salt soaked. He wants you to look flashy for his big day." She rolled her eyes. 

"Big day. Pffft." She blew a raspberry. "Also I'll have you know I bought this one." She said, putting extra emphasis on the last two words. 

"Pffft indeed." Ahem pulled aside a curtain revealing a tall and nicely rounded mannequin. Upon it was a coat fit for a pirate, though very well made and quite fancy. It was entirely black save for the trim, cuffs, and pocket covers that were a deep dark red, with shining gold buttons and an interior lining of red and gold paisley. A cutlass crossed with a rose was embroidered on the left breast. She snatched it off the mannequin and draped it over the captain's shoulders. "Go on, see how it fits. Your measurements seem almost exactly what I thought they'd be." 

"It's quite lovely!" She put the coat on, pulling the sleeves over her arms. She jumped and jogged in place, bent down to touch her toes and stretched her arms. Then she mimicked punching, drawing and swinging a sword, and climbing the riggings of a ship. She pretended to draw her pistol with a flourish and blew the smoke from its imaginary barrel, and then curtsied meekly.  "Fits great! Oh, one more thing." She walked up to the Jules mannequin and planted her feet. She drew her arm back and delivered a hearty slap just as she had the first time. "It's perfect, actually." The head of the mannequin tumbled to the floor.

"Three days is hardly long enough to craft something perfect. Let alone an entire ensemble that turns a ruffian into a posh pirate renegade as Mr Cartier suggested. So you'll have to make due with only the coat I'm afraid."

"Wait, three days? He asked y' to make a coat on the day that I slapped 'im?" She let out a single loud laugh. "I musta knocked something loose! How'd ye get m' measurements, anyhow?"

"Followed you around."

"But I hardly left m' ship after that business, how'd y-"

"You left four times, actually. Two of which you brought back food and wine."

"Ha! Typical. I like you, Ahem, yer fun! An' this coat is perfectly made t' measure, most folks miss just how big I am 'round the middle. You've got me thanks." 

"You know, I think that might be the first time I've gotten a genuine compliment the entire time I've spent under the employ of Mr. Cartier. Go give him hell, captain." She smiled, pushing the moomin gently on her back towards the door. "Oh, but do mingle a bit first. I don't think Jules is quite done making a fool of himself yet. I'm sure he'll call for you." She began packing things into a large trunk.

Not long after, the strange events at Cartier Manor continued to unfold. Captain Whetstone found herself in the courtyard, and Marion in turn found her as well. Refreshments were being served on trays carried by servants in bright blue vests. The pair sat at a table under a parasol, similar settings littered the yard alongside tents, rugs, and a veritable ship's load of furniture. All of this surrounded a large stage, adorned with deep blue ribbons and flowers. 

"That's a fine coat you've found yourself." Marion eyed the embroidery, sitting across from Captain Whetstone.

"Aye? A gift from yer old man I s'pose. Funny seamstress gal made it." She lifted it to show off the liner. "Yer house is massive! Just you lot live there?"

The captain made musings about this, that, and the other, chatting idly with Marion. Time stretched on, and the outing began to seem much less like a duel, and much more like a garden party. With each offered hors d'oeuvre, the captain took at least one of each thing, most of which she tried and set aside without finishing. She did, however, finish each flute of champagne that was brought by. 

The captain held a glass at eye level, staring at the champagne within, boredom getting the better of her. "Marion, how do ye reckon they get the bubbles in th–"

"Welcome, all!"  A voice boomed from the stage, commanding everyone's attention. "Today marks a momentous and fateful occasion." Jules' theatrical manner of speaking finally suited the situation. 

He had chosen an outfit of deep blues and bright whites, with silver buttons. Each article bore a motif of white lilies, trimmed with shimmering silver. The calves and sleeves of his outfit were tight and fitted, while the rest was loose and flowing. All of it was made of a shiny satin exterior, and he wore a large and gallant cape upon his shoulders. It was no doubt the work of the same tailor of Whetstone's coat. His hair was slicked back, and his mustache was waxed into perfect, symmetrical points. Behind him stood a short and portly older moomin, with a curly powdered wig. He was dressed similarly to Mr Cartier, though much simpler and with a brooch bearing the symbol of the King's navy. 

"Today, we bring a close to the scourge upon the seas. I, Jules Cartier, am to end the career of a pirate that has so long plagued the open waters." Not a word left his lips without some manner of posing added to it. Bravado seemed a natural calling for him. "But I, ladies and gentlemen, am no brute! We duel today only to first blood. I have called upon the aid of Governor Woodes Rogers, an experienced pirate hunter, to take down alongside me the infamous Captain Whetstone!" 

Gasps were shared by the crowd, most of whom had likely never heard of Rogers nor Whetstone before the last few days. Jules was building drama for a performance, and the audience was absolutely enraptured. 

"Should your hero prevail today, Miss Whetstone will voluntarily turn herself in at my behest. The streets of Marseille will no longer be subject to her whims, and its surrounding seas shall stand as an affront to all pirates who would dare approach!" 

Rogers, the moomin standing behind Jules, stepped forward. He unfurled an almost comically long document and cleared his throat. "Captain Whetstone, of her own free will, submits heretofore under the crown and will be granted clemency for all acts perpetrated during her stints as a pirate, and shall be pressed into service of the king's navy, or be jailed at once and in perpetuity remain. Here listed are her many crimes, and associated parties-"

"You needn't continue reading Mr Rogers. They can see how long that page is." Jules interrupted. 

"Am I going crazy?" Marion whispered across the table to Whetstone. "I mean I know it's been three days. But it's only been three days. A garden party is one thing, but to organize all of this?" She rested her head in her paws for a moment.

"I don't even think that there's the real Woodes Rogers." She squinted at the man from her seat. "Last I heard it, he were bankrupt or some such. Sued by his own crew. Ought t' be down n' out, not out n' about putzing around France." She searched her pockets for her pipe, remembering that she wasn't wearing her old coat. "That page he's got is like as any t' be blank I'd bet."

"Captain Whetstone, to the stage if you would!" Jules shouted, finishing his speech. 

Marion looked across the table, only now showing her fear. "Be careful up there. He's quicker than he looks." 

"It'll be over 'fore ye know it, lass. If yer dad wants to put on a show fer these folk, then I say let's give 'em a show." She picked up her champagne flute, and swaggered up to the stage. She took her place across from Jules.

"The fearsome pirate captain, Whetstone. Ruffian. Ne'er-do-well. Scoundrel and scallywag. You've plundered your way through the seas and sewn chaos among the citizenry, but that all ends today." Jules once again performed for the audience rather than speaking.

"Aye. All that n' more. And none of it could sate the devil inside me." She growled, mostly unconvincingly. She was, at best, unseasoned as an actor. 

"You're drunk!" Jules said, tugging on a pair of leather gloves. 

"An' yer annoying!"

"Name your second." 

"My what?" The captain shot him a puzzled look. 

"Your second. Someone you trust to bear witness to the duel. Have you never had a proper duel in your life? And yet how many have fallen to your sword alone? How barbaric." Jules rolled his eyes. 

"Ah. Marion'll do it. She's good like that, seems despite yer efforts t' the contrary, you've raised a very capable young woman."

Jules flinched, balling his hands into fists as the captain shouted for Marion to join them on stage. He swallowed his anger, and continued the show. The moomin who may or may not have been Woodes Rogers presented a velvet box, and a servant presented another. They opened the lids revealing one to have within it a set of ornate dueling pistols with pearlescent grips. The other box contained two sideswords decorated with gold engravings upon their blades. 

"The challenged may choose the weapons. The seconds shall inspect the weapons to ensure fairness and quality. Once we are all in agreeance, we shall separate ten or twenty paces, face one another, and the duel can begin in earnest upon the signal of each second." Jules delivered his clearly practiced lines to the crowd. 

"Well I meant what I said. I won't be killin' a man in front o' his own daughter. No pistols. First blood." 

"Swords it is, then. Ten paces instead." 

"I ain't usin' one o' yer swords neither. I made this cutlass and ye won't part me from it." She removed her sword from her belt, handing it to Marion, who had just arrived on stage. "You and yer second can inspect that'un." 

"Very well, captain. I suppose I should have expected no less from a pirate." His words were intensely venomous, annunciating each word with a pompous anger. He turned to face the audience. "The pirate has elected to use her own, crude blade even within the context of a gentlemanly duel!" This elicited whispers from the crowd.

Jules paid no mind to Marion as she presented Whetstone's sword to him and his second. They looked at it for only a moment and both scoffed, despite its elegance and craftsmanship. The captain and her second both carefully examined Jules' blade, finding no flaw or alterations. They agreed, and each took their sword as they took their place on stage. The crowd was silent, and the sound of thunder echoing in the distance was joined only by the footsteps of the two duelists as they took their paces.

Jules held his sword point up, taking a dueling stance as he measured each pace. The captain had returned her sword to its scabbard, and was still holding her flute of champagne. She took each step as though she were crossing stones in a river, occasionally pretending to lose her balance playfully as she watched the audience. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

With each step Marion's heart raced, she feared for her future, and for her newfound freedom. She'd found a fondness these last three days and had mostly forgotten her anger to her father until she met with him once more on stage. 

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. 

Jules gripped his sword tightly, eager to rewrite himself as a hero to the people of Marseille. He turned in his position, waiting for the signal from the seconds. The captain turned as well, sword sheathed, glass in hand. 

"At your will, Mr Rogers." Marion stood beside him near the rear of the stage, out of the duelists' way. Her voice was shaky.

"Begin!" Woodes Rogers shouted without hesitation.

Jules lowered himself, rushing into a full sprint. 

The captain tossed her glass into the air, straight. She drew her cutlass quick as lightning, and with incredible speed and precision, cut the stem from the bell. As the glass descended, she caught it in her paw. The audience gasped, a few even squealed as the base sailed far off into the crowd. 

Jules stopped in his tracks for a moment, on guard. It was too late to back out now, despite the impressive display. 

She took a long, protracted sip before gently setting the unharmed top half of the glass onto the stage upside down next to her, empty. "I hope y' brought yer dancing shoes." She extended her arm, the point of her sword idly aimed at her opponent. 

He rushed to strike first, despite his showmanship he aimed to end the duel as fast as he could. He thrust to the captain's side. She sidestepped, grabbing his wrist with her empty paw, and used his momentum to throw him to the ground. He landed with an anticlimactic albeit quite loud thud on his back. 

"That's disappointing, Jules. I thought y' wanted to give these fine folk a show." She spoke at stage volume. She stood over him, the tip of her cutlass resting just above his chest.

"It's to first blood, captain." He gripped his sword tightly, and swept at her ankles. "And I'm not bleeding yet!" He jumped to his feet the moment she was on the defensive. 

She back-stepped, narrowly avoiding his swing. The audience roared to life having been in rapt silence during their first exchange. They shouted and cheered, nearly drowning out the following clanging of steel. 

Jules ferociously delivered cut and thrust after cut and thrust, he was as well practiced as Marion had said. He'd not met an opponent yet that could hold against his onslaught, and yet the captain was calm and focused, dodging and deflecting each of his blows. 

Whetstone feinted high as she had done with Marion, then swung low at his legs, cutting just the fabric of his pant-leg as he changed his stance. 

She laughed. "Ha! Got yer daughter with that'un, too!" 

He snarled, lunging in and following up with several repeated thrusts. The captain knocked each of them aside. She bound her sword against his and closed any distance between them, using her weight to throw him off balance. Jules fell to the ground once more, but rolled off his back and onto his feet again. He rounded her, swapping sides hoping to gain an advantage. He threatened a cut, but dropped his leg and reached out for a long thrust to the captain's inside line. She had previously been neglecting it and stepping aside, and she wouldn't step aside if she had thought it was a cut. He drove his point home as fast as he could, and then-

Thwap!

Whetstone batted aside his blade by the flat using her paw! She charged in now that he was open, blade raised high. He managed to raise his guard just in time, barely withstanding the weight of an oversized moomin crashing against his sword arm like a heavy wave against a ship's bow. He rounded his opponent once more, returning to his side of the stage. 

Jules hated being on the defensive. He hated even more his opponent. He hated that despite his assuredness in his own skill and the effort he put into this display, he had not bested the captain as quickly as he had hoped. His off hand left his hip, abandoning his dueling stance. He abandoned his footwork, too, in exchange for a mad dash. He began throwing wild cuts in front of him as he charged, yelling the whole way. She threw all of her might into one heavy cut, knocking his sword off line once again. He reeled, regaining his composure. 

He realized that he could not beat her in a competition of strength, nor speed.  He would have to stay calm and search for an opening. "The leg!" He thought to himself. "She may be twice the size of your average moomin, but she's still got shorter legs than a fillyjonk!" He closed in once more, focusing in on waist level thrusts. He began changing his rhythm, repeating the same passing steps in his approach. He'd stab and wait for her to cut, then step and do it again. Biding his time until she went for something trickier.

Whetstone noticed the change in his attitude. He was lithe and by now much more warmed up. It was as though he'd settled into the flow of battle. She held both arms out to her side, as if to say "come at me!" Completely opening up her defenses. He threw a cut to her chest, following up on her opening. She took her sword by its spine at one end, and the grip with the other, and swung up as though she were forcing open a window. He reeled once more as his sword was knocked away, but the captain was wide open for exactly the kind of attack he'd hoped for. He readjusted, then swung for her thigh. 

Seeing this, she leapt back once, being caught off guard by such a near miss. She'd kept her cool through most of the fight, but she was beginning to worry that her fooling around might cost her new friend dearly.  She leapt back again, escaping his reach. She spun off her front leg. Jules watched, unsure of the captain's intentions with such a maneuver. He saw her rear leg swoop up midway through the spin, and then back down as she completed it, as if in slow motion. At first he was confused, but then he remembered. "Oh no." He thought. "Not like this!" 

Her back foot kicked the glass she had left on stage, sending it flying straight at his face. He brought up his sword to block it, or knock it aside, but it was in vain. It shattered against the base of his blade, sending shards flying past it. The collective gasp from the previously uproarious crowd would have sucked the air from the room were they not outside. Even the coming storm stood silent as a trickle of blood ran down Jules' forehead. He reached up and touched it gingerly, examining the aftermath upon his paw. 

"I believe that's first blood, Mr. Cartier." The captain flourished with her sword a moment before returning it to its scabbard. She faced the audience, curtsied meekly, and headed off toward Marion at the rear of the stage. Much of the crowd were confused, some even angry. There was cheering and jeering alike, booing and whistling. Jules remained on stage, utterly defeated as the rain began gently dropping. 

"Congratulations, Miss Whetstone." Jules said. His voice was much less performative, taking on a sinister tone. The captain continued her stride, merely raising her paw dismissively. "You have won the duel…" Jules rushed toward her. "But you will lose your life!" 

"Whetstone! Look out!" Marion cried as loud as she could. 

The captain turned to see Jules just behind her, and coming right at her head was the tip of his sword. She threw herself back, headfirst, but it was too late. His sword dug into her face and tore across her left eye, stopping around the middle of her forehead thanks only to luck and to Marion's warning. She shouted in pain, clutching at the wound on her face with one paw and drawing her sword with the other. 

"This isn't fair!" The wouldbe Woodes shouted, sprinting away. He stumbled into the table that had the dueling boxes atop it, knocking it over. "You didn't tell me you were going to kill her!" 

The audience bellowed with shouts of a similar kind. 

"The duel is over! Stop!"

 "You lost! Give it up!"

"He's lost his mind!"

 Many voices cried over one another.

Several members of the audience shrieked in fear from the sight of so much blood, and several others rushed to the stage in an attempt to stop him from continuing his assault.

"Y' cowardly bastard!" The captain growled, fighting as hard as she could with the use of only one eye. "Marion! Get yerself outta here!" She looked around in a half blind panic.

"Duel or no duel, she's a wanted woman! To the man who brings me her head, you'll claim the bounty and I'll make you the richest man in Marseille!" Jules drew the crowd into a frenzy. Those who weren't tempted by his offer began running to the gate, and those who were tempted began surrounding the stage. They were unarmed but very much outnumbered the two who were now stuck between Jules, the manor, and the gate leading back out into the streets. 

Marion rushed in the same direction as Woodes, shaking with panic. She had to act, and quickly. She picked up one of the pistols from the open dueling boxes, pointing it at her father. She tightened her grip, steadying herself. She'd never fired a pistol before, and despite everything, she'd never wanted to kill her father. "Stop! Stop attacking her this instant or I'll shoot you!" She shouted. Tears were streaming down her face, her hair and clothes now soaked with rain as the storm raged on. 

The captain backed off from the fight, holding her ground as Marion made her plea. Jules stopped as well, turning to face his daughter. The herd of newly made bounty hunters waited, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. 

"Make sure you take that one alive." Jules pointed at Marion with his sword, gesturing to his makeshift militia. 

Click

Marion pulled the trigger, filled with an array of strong emotions that all burnt up in her anger. Jules paused briefly, seemingly offended. His eyes were wide and mouth agape. The flint struck the frizzen, yet there was no smoke, no flash, no bang. The rain had soaked the powder thoroughly, forcing her threats empty.  

The moment seemed to drag on, the clear line in the sand now drawn between Marion and her home life. She screamed, barely able to hear herself as she threw the gun at him, reaching next for the sword left in the box. The captain used this as an opportunity to rush to Marion's side, scooping her up in a bridal carry at full sprint, off stage. 

"After them, you fools!" Jules regained focus after his brush with death. He'd gone too far now to give up. He'd all but given up on raising his daughter to be the way he wanted her, but he refused to relinquish even the slightest bit of control, especially to a pirate. 

Captain Whetstone ran as fast as she could toward the gate. The path was clear and the only remaining bystanders had just made it through. Jules was the fastest among the duo's pursuers, quickly taking charge ahead of his group. The grass underfoot was slick, and the rugs placed upon it now waterlogged. Thunder crashed within the sky, bellowing throughout the humid air below. 

"Come back you coward! Blaggard! Face your fate!" Jules shouted above the racket of the storm as he ran. 

The captain stumbled, woozy from her injury, dropping Marion in the process. They both stopped only a moment, with Jules gaining on them. The gate was tantalizingly near, and their hope for escape pushed them onward. The pair righted themselves and passed the threshold, soon to be followed by Jules and his cohorts. 

"I have you now, you wretch!" Jules raised his sword, closing in. He chanced a cut at the captain's leg rather than attempting to tackle a woman likely twice his weight. 

tst-BOOM

A shot rang out, crushing beneath it for a moment the sound of storm and step alike. Smoke plumed from a covered balcony one floor up, just outside the gate to the Cartier Manor courtyard. Whatever onlookers remained nearby scattered at the sound. 

"I reckon I already told ye…" a hoarse voice spoke from behind the smoke. "Keep yer promises, Cap'n. Lest I be keepin' 'em fer ye." A rugged hemulen woman set her spent rifle to the side, lifting a loaded one from a row against the railing she was perched at. 

For the briefest of moments the world fell silent as those in the vicinity searched for the object of Ruth's aim. The silence broke with the anguished scream of Jules, his sword clattering to the ground as he clutched his arm where he'd been shot. 

"Ruthie!" The captain shouted, gleeful and relieved. 

"Put some wind in yer sails, kid! Ye promised me no foolishness. Ye get that girl outta here, an' maybe I won't be considr'in it foolish n'more!" She took aim, putting a shot between the wounded Mr Cartier and his thugs. The shot caused a few of them to rethink, running back into the courtyard. She once again set her empty rifle aside, picking up a fresh one. "Avast! I've got 'nuff guns up 'ere to take the lot of ye! What'll it be?" She asked the duo's pursuers, mounting her gun on the railing.

Captain Whetstone and Marion ran as far and as fast as they ever had before. Despite eventually making their escape, the two were in need of leave from Marseille. Jules' ire is doubtless to have stirred all manner of trouble, and he had a wound to prove his opponent's guilt. When they arrived at the docks that evening, out of hiding, The Honeyed Word was no longer moored at the harbor. The surrounding area was lousy with law, searching for the both of them. They spent that night together in a cove on the beach tending to Whetstone's wound, making plans for tomorrow and the tomorrow beyond that. 

–

"That's awful, Miss Puukko!" Moominmama had returned from the kitchen to the veranda with a tray set for coffee. She set it down upon the table, having a seat next to her husband. 

"Yes, quite! And what became of the two of you next?" Papa asked from his seat across the table. His agreeance to Mama's exclamation was betrayed by the excitement in his voice. He held a love for all things nautical as well as for a good story, and could not hide it. 

The fluffy brown moomin scratched at the underside of her snout, eyes fixed on the distance as she reminisced. It was a calm, and pleasantly warm evening in Moominvalley. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and crickets chirped from their hiding places. She puffed on her pipe, exhaling deeply with a contented sigh. She bore a scar across her left eye, and the heavy brow of a long life. Seeing her dressed comfortably, swapping stories on the veranda,  you'd hardly believe she'd once been a fearsome pirate captain. Obscurity suited her quite well, as the last breath of a legend long past. 

"In my absence, Ruthie 'ad told me crew t' weigh anchor an' make fer somewhere near. I reckon I'd consider her t' be a hero, least by my account anyway..." She took another drag off her pipe. "Trouble were certain to have found them if she hadn't got 'em outta there. That was the last anyone saw of her. Sent some men that-a-way fer to go about findin' her some time later. Not hide nor hair. I think she aimed t' make the rest o' her life a quiet one."

"But you pirates are all flare and bravado! A life of excitement, and er, uh, and freedom! Why would you want to give up that?" Moominpapa gestured in his chair as he spoke. 

"Papa…" his wife laid her paw on his arm as if to settle him down. 

"It's a fine thing t' be sure, fer a spell. But it's got its rigors. I fear what I mean t' say ain't kind enough fer this valley. It's foul, and it's wretched. Turn folk into beasts and beasts into.. well I hardly even know what ye'd call it. Bastards 'n scoundrels. When ya find a one like the one I were sweet on, well… it's hard t' live a life like that seein' thems that you'd protect with their teeth gritted behind a sword." She dropped a sugar cube into her cup, watching it slowly dissolve beneath the dark waves of coffee. 

"And to think I'm the one writing memoirs." Papa mused. "And what happened to Marion?"

"After we made it back aboard me ship, I weren't in a way fit fer sailing. Without a first mate and without their captain and helmsman, the crew had t' band together. They fell in with Marion right quick. She'd read up on sailing her whole life, call to the sea an' all that. Just ne'er put it to practice. Did a good turn at the old bailiwick once more, plundered as many ships carryin' the Cane King stuff 'tween Nassau, Curaçao and near Marseille as we could. She learnt t' be quite fierce in a short while. A force to be reckoned with under my care. We became as tall tales walkin'... We got t' bein' quite close, too. Didn't ne'er get to talking out the particulars though, I'm afraid." 

She stopped for a moment, enjoying the coffee, company, and relative peace and quiet. Ever since she'd moved to Moominvalley she'd known more peace than she ever had. Even in her own childhood home,  there were always storms and turmoil. As no more than a pup on the seas apprenticing under good men, she knew even further strife and noise. From her start on the seas she thought she could earn the peace she had now, and never did. 

"It's funny how misfortune and heartache can get ye where ye need t' be goin'. We coulda stayed tall tales iffin things hadn't shaken out like they did. The thing about it is…" She took one last puff on her pipe before tapping it into the ashtray. 

"Whether or not ye tuck it when ye run, if ye made yer tale long enough, someone always catches ye by it in the end. But that's a story fer another time I suppose."

[assortedseaglass]

🌟Solstice | Yuletide 🌟

Osferth x Unnamed Female Character

Summary: Osferth celebrates the solstice with the pagans.

Content Warning: The drabbliest of drabbles

🎄Yuletide Masterlist🎄

Shame welled in his heart.

No matter how often he tried to look away, or thought of the Lord, Osferth could not bring himself to leave his sentinel beyond the forest clearing.

How long he’d stood there, he could not say for certain, but the moon had risen beyond the trees to its nocturnal rest. His feet in their leather boots, were numb. His mouth, dry, though whether this was due to leaving the inn so early or because of the sight before him, he too did not know.

The young monk saw the glow first. Through the tunnel of the trees, the honeyed light grew until it seemed the very forest was aflame. Yet the voices he heard were not fearful. Edging closer to the woodland border, he found they were jubilant. Laughter. Singing. Excited chatter.

Onward he walked, into the trees’ dark embrace. Beneath him, branches crackled and snapped with every tentative step. The noise of the party grew nearer. An enemy encampment perhaps? No, they would lie low prior to attack. Travelling goodsman and their crew? Surely they would be at the inn with everyone else in Aureberie.  

The glow led him to the edge of the clearing at which he now stood, and the sight he beheld was like none he had seen, except in dreams.

A pyre of wood was set ablaze at the clearing’s centre, sparks breaking away from the flames and reminding him of barely remembered stories told by his mother long ago.

“Angels flying heavenward, little one.”

Even from where he stood beneath the bare trees, Osferth felt the warmth radiating from the glorious fire. Tendrils of flame violently licked the sky, its great roar growing in strength and drowning out the souls silhouetted against its light.

It was this, that truly mesmerised Osferth.

Dancing around the ring of flame, bodies writhed and twirled, all curve and sinew, flailing arms raised to the heavens with teeth gleaming in the firelight. Garlands of leaves donned their brows; holly and fir on beds of moss. For some, this was all they wore. Though this number was few, men and women alike danced about the pyre as naked as a babe.

Osferth watched, transfixed, as plump flesh and fat rolled, coiled, stretched and swayed.

Shame rushed to his breaches.

Round tummies, tender breasts, plush thighs. The flickering of firelight across the women’s soft flesh dizzied Osferth and, at last, he looked away.

Wolf’s eyes and an enigmatic smile. How long had she been there?

At once, Osferth reached for his sword.

“You are the monk they call Osferth?” The woman stepped forward, hands open in surrender.

“Yes.” His voice was firm. He had seen this woman before, about Aureberie since their arrival. The healer. She hummed at his answer.

“Please, let go of the sword.” Her voice was so gentle, so measured, that he did as she commanded without thinking.

A prickle ran up his spine. If she was the wolf, wily and tactful, surely he was the rabbit. Startled, wide-eyed. “How long have you been there?”

“Longer than you, Christian.”

“That is not what I mea-”

“I know what you meant.”  

She stepped towards him and Osferth straightened, determined not to let her see his shame. To his great relief, her smile softened. “It is the solstice,” she nodded towards the pyre. “We are moving back towards the light.”

“Yes,” Osferth said. “It was the light that drew me in.” He had turned back to watch the gathering party.

“And what was it that made you stay?” The low timbre of her voice made him shiver, and, when Osferth looked at her, he saw she was right beside him.

“I think you know, lady.” He said, watching the flames dance in the reflection of her eyes. She nodded.

“Come, Christian,” she held out her hand in beckoning. Osferth took it, spellbound. And she led him, not towards the celebration, but deeper into the forest.

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

[maaarijaaa]

We meet again ✿ Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes x Detective!Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: After your father stepped down as a detective, you decided to take over and got on your first case. What you did not expect is a letter standing on your front porch from a person you wanted to leave in the past…

Warning: smut, nsfw 18+, murder

A/N: Hello everyone! I have not written a smut in a long time so if this is bad just let me know. English is not my first language, so let me know if I made any mistakes. I do not allow for my work to be posted or translated on this or any other platform. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Ever since you were little you were introduced to the world of the detectives. Your father was a detective him self and was also, your biggest role model.

You two have traveled all around the world to solve cases together. You were his little Nancy Drew.

As years went by your father became old and decided to step down, meaning that you would have to take over his job. You were excited at first, until you got on your first case.

There has been a murder in a neighborhood not that far from yours. The person who was murdered was a young woman, probably in her late 20s. Her body was found by her sister who came home late at night that day. Her sister owns one of the most popular bookshops in town and that day, the bookshop held a small event, celebrating the success of a new book that was recently published by a writer that was from the town. The book became really popular not just in your town, but also across the country so they had a reason to celebrate.

Her sister sent you a letter asking you if you could solve the murder and you agreed.

Solving murder cases were not your thing since your father never allowed you to help him whenever he was asked to solve a murder.

But your father has stepped down, and now you are the one in charge so you have to try your best.

The woman’s sister invited you over to their house so you could investigate.

The living room where her body was found looked pretty normal to you and did not see anything suspicious.

“Was your sister at the event too?” You asked the woman.

She looked at you for a few seconds before she spoke. She was still in shock after finding her sister’s body so you understood why she took her time.

“She was, but only for a short amount of time. She said that she was not feeling well and wanted to go home. I told her that we can go together since its dark and could be dangerous but she did not want me to leave since she that the event was important to me. After a hour or two I kinda felt that something was wrong and was scarred that something might have happened to her so I left to see if she was doing okay. I was first relieved to see that the lights were on but that quickly changed when I saw her lying lifeless on the ground.”

You noted every detail before asking her other questions.

“Did she act differently at the event? Was she maybe scared or maybe uncomfortable?”

The woman took her time since she tried to remember the way her sister acted.

“What I remember is that she was a little bit scared, like she saw a ghost or something but I brushed it off since she was often scared or shy whenever she was crowded by the people. What surprised me the most is that she requested to walk home alone at such late hours. She never went out when it was dark unless there was someone with her, but I thought that she was brave enough to alone so I let her. I also saw that she was walking fast, like as if she was running from someone.”

You noted every important detail about the night.

You asked the woman if she had any scars. Anything that would prove that she was murdered.

She told you that she had bruises on her body, mostly on her neck. She also told you that police and doctors believe that the killer held their hands on her neck until her last breath. There were a few scars that were caused by a sharp object that could have been a knife or other things like glass.

That’s everything she knew since they are still trying to find the cause of death before she is laid to rest.

You went around the house to see if the killer left something or dropped something. You found nothing.

Her sister let you search in her room.

You checked everywhere until you opened a box that was hidden under her bed. The box was full of letters.

All the letters she has received were from a guy named Connor Smith.

Most of them were love letters where he declared his love to her, until you opened the letter that were sent to her only a moth before she was killed.

You could definitely see that his love turned into obsession. He told her that she will always belong to him. That he was the only man she was allowed to love. He also wrote her that she should stop seeing the man she was out with once, which meant that he was probably stalking her.

You exited the room so that you could talk to her sister.

“Do you know if a man named Connor Smith was at the event?”

The woman looked at you with a weird look on her face.

“Yes, Connor used to work at the bookshop until two weeks ago. I invited him since he help us a lot with the bookshop.”

You noted that down.

“Did you maybe see him around your sister that night?”

“I am just asking because he sent your sisters some letters so I need to know. Was Connor around your sister that night?”

“Yes he actually was. They talked about something and maybe a half an hour or so she asked if she could go home since she did not feel well.”

You noted that down too and told her that you will come back in a few days. You also told her that she should tell you if she found something suspicious or any new clues.

You thanked her for inviting you over and left her home.

After leaving their home, you stopped at the local marked and bought some groceries since your dad requested it in the morning before you left.

You brought everything that your father requested and left. When you arrived to your house, you saw that there was a letter at the door.

Ever since you got this case, people would not stop asking you about it. They wanted to know everything. You have received letter from people in town who wanted to be part of the case. You even received letters from the local newspaper with dozens of questions.

Who did it? What clues did you find? Any suspects?

All you wanted was to be left alone and solve this case in peace.

Before you opened the letter, you stored the groceries that you brought and made your father some lunch since he was starving. Poor man.

Leaving your father to eat in peace, you went to your room and opened the letter.

I heard that you just got your first case

If you need any help, I am there for you

S.H

You instantly rolled your eyes when you saw who sent you the letter.

Sherlock Holmes, one of the most successful and most popular detectives in the world. He was smart and intelligent, knew several languages and every case he got, was solved.

But you knew Sherlock way before he even became a detective.

You two used to be lovers until he became a detective and made it his priority.

You did not care at first. You were happy that he was doing something that he loves.

Until, he started to travel around the world to solve cases.

During that time you would miss him a lot and wrote him letters daily. He never responded to one of them.

After he came back from Spain, solving a case that involved kidnapping, he admitted cheating on you with other woman so he could get some information out of her since she was one of the main suspects.

He told you that it meant nothing to him but you did not believe him, so you left him.

And after five years of no contact, he sends you a letter saying that he will help you with the case. What an idiot, you thought.

You ignored his letter and went off with your day.

You went down to the town center to visit your favorite cafe, hoping that you could relax and read the notes you took while visiting the victim’s sister.

You sat down at your favorite spot, outside since it was a nice day and the sun was shining, and ordered some coffee and your favorite cookies.

You were so lost in the notes you took that you did not notice the person standing behind you.

“Well, we meet again sweetheart.” He spoke softly

That made you jump since you did not know that he was behind you. You even realized that others were staring at you.

Turning around to see the figure behind you, you could not help but to roll your eyes again.

It was Sherlock.

He took the seat next to yours and sat down, meanwhile you started reading your notes again, ignoring Sherlock

A few seconds went by before he spoke again.

“Are you going to ignore me again”

You did not say anything as you still read your notes.

“Did you receive my letter” he spoke

You looked up at him

“I did” you spoke back

“I meant everything I wrote in the letter. I am willing to help you with the case if you just let me…” He could not even finish the sentence because you cut him off.

“I do not need your help. I am capable of solving it alone.” You spoke harshly

Sherlock understood why you were like this since he has hurt you a lot, but he really wants to help you.

The lady who works at the cafe, came with you order.

You were about to pay her, but Sherlock was faster.

He payed your order and ordered some coffee too. The lady noted down Sherlocks order and left.

“What do you know about the case?” He asked you.

You knew that he will not give up so you just answered him.

“Well I visited her sister today. She is terrified and wants answers to why could someone do this to her sister. I asked her a few questions about that night. She told me that her sister did act weird and that she was scarred. She described it as she has seen a ghost. She later on leaves the event at around midnight, saying that she does not feel well. Her sister feels like something is wrong and goes home to check up on her only to find her dead in the living room. Her body has both bruises and scars. Most of the bruises were on her neck and doctors and the police believe that the killer killed her by pressing their hands on her neck until her last breath. The cuts were caused by a sharp object. Could have been a knife or glass but I did not find anything suspicious until I checked her room where I found letters from a man named Connor Smith. He has sent her too many love letters over the years. The last letters she received from him was a month ago. In the letters, it said that she should stay away from the man that she was seeing because he did not deserve her. I suspect that Connor was stalking her too, but I can not say that its clear that he did. I asked her sister if Connor was at the event, which she said that he was and that they had a conversation. Shortly after their conversation, her sister came up to her, asking her if she could go home since she did not feel well.”

“So, this Connor is the…” Sherlock spoke before you cut him off.

“Is the main suspect, but I need to find the name of the other guy she was seeing. He could also be a suspect or may know something we don’t.”

Sherlock nodded as he listens to you.

“What are your plans now for the case?” He asks

“Well, they are still checking for a cause of death, but the main theory of the death cause is that the killer killed her by chocking her very hard until she took her last breath. I wanted to hear if they have found something in her body since she said that she was not feeling well. Could be because she was talking to Connor, but it could also be that she was..” You spoke, but to your surprise, Sherlock cut you off.

“Poisoned” he spoke

“That’s one of my theories, but I could be wrong.”

“At this point everything is possible.” He spoke before asking you more questions about the case.

“Do you know where Connor lives?” Just then, the lady comes out with Sherlocks order and he pays.

“Well, no but he used to work at the bookshop where the event was being held at so they probably know.”

Sherlock nodded and then drank his coffee. Then you realized that your coffee and food is still untouched so you take a bite of cookies and drink some coffee too before you speak again.

“We have not seen each other for five years and then you all of a sudden send me a letter where you will gladly help me with my first case. Why?!”

Sherlock looked at you for a moment before he spoke.

“The truth is that I wanna make it up to you and helping you with your first case would be my honor. I know that was an idiot for doing the things back then, and regret doing it. I regret hurting you and most of all, I regret leaving you.”

At that moment you told your self “he does not mean it”, but then you saw that his eyes are filled with tears that are threatening to spill.

“I don’t know if I can forgive your for hurting me back then, but what I know for sure is that we can try again, but…as friends for now.” You spoke while looking at him

“I understand but could I at least help you with the case?” He asked as a smile began to form on his face. You chuckled since you could not take him seriously.

“Fine, I would be needing some help.” You said while chuckling.

Both of you finished your drinks and you shared your cookies with Sherlock before standing up and leaving.

You walked around town and talked about each others lives.

He told you about the amazing places he visited while solving cases.

From Paris to Moscow, and even Cape Town. He told you that he can bring you with him when he travels again.

You smiled at that, already imagining the places you two could visit, but that imagination was cut short when you told yourself that you have moved on and wanted to stay as friends.

Well, so you thought.

You walked together for what seemed like hours, but it was only 10 minutes.

You two found yourself standing on Sherlocks porch.

Sherlock opened the door and yelled “Hello!?” to see if anybody was home, but it was dead silent.

“Well turns out we are alone” he said while turning to look at you.

You gulped hard, since the last time you were alone with him in his house was when you had your huge fight with him because of his affairs. You ended things with him and stormed out. You have been there to visit Enola and her mother but you were never there when Sherlock was back.

You headed towards his office to focus more on the case.

You went through the notes you took, to see if you can at least solve something. What bothered you the most was that you did not know the name of the other guy she was seeing.

It would have been much easier to know since he could tell his side of the story, but right now he is on the list of the main suspects.

“How are we going to find the guy she was seeing if don’t know his name or have any description of him?” He asked

“I don’t know but I think its best for us to investigate and see if Connor is behind her death. Besides, the news have spread around town, so he is going to come forward sooner or later.”

“You are probably right” He sighed

During the time you spend in his office, you would often notice that his hand would often brush yours or your waist. You did not mind at first but he kept on going so you decided to confront him.

You pulled away from him and yelled “Alright Sherlock, ever since I got here, you would not stop touching me!!! So if you don’t have anything better to do then I think that I should leave!!”

You were about to exit his office when he suddenly pulled you into a kiss. You really hated yourself at that moment since you gave in.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes before he spoke.

“These past years without you have been hell and everyday I hate myself even more for hurting you and don’t think I could ever forgive myself for making my work my priority and doing all those disgusting tings I did that hurt you. I think about you, I dream about you every damn night and I love you…more than anything in this world.”

You looked at him with tears in your eyes, and did not know what to say.

Sherlock later on took you to his bedroom without pulling his lips from yours. He laid you down on the bed before pulling away from you to take his shirt off. He then helped you get out of your corset and rest of the dress. He finally took his pants, along with his underwear. He then laid on top of you and began kissing your neck.

“May I??” He asked for your permission. You have done this while you were still lovers but it was a long time ago so it was the only right thing to do.

“Yes” You blurted out.

He slowly lined himself on your entrance and began thrusting. You both began moaning softly while he kept a slow pace since you needed some time to get used to his size.

“Fuck, it feels so good” He said.

You could not form any words at the moment because of the pleasure.

Sherlock later on sped up the pace and you were a moaning mess.

“You okay sugar?” He asked while thrusting into you.

“Yes! It just feels soo goood!” You said.

Both of you reached your limit and were out of breath.

“Did you really mean everything you said?” You asked.

“Every word. Do you think that we can try again?” He asked

You were skeptical about that but you had other plans.

“Well first of all, it would take some time for me to trust you again so you would have to prove it. Second of all, yes we can but as friends for now until I know that I can trust you again.”

Both of you looked at each other and smiled. He came on top of you again and gave you one last kiss before you both doze off.

[asktheoger]

Aya walked through the busy streets, snack in hand. The Ogerpon was starting to feel a bit hungry. She knew the drill for eating at the festival: make sure she’s far away from everyone, hidden away in some corner of the quiet residential area with her dads.

She soon spotted her parents among the crowds and made her way towards them, but frozen in her tracks as she drew near.

They look like….they’re having fun! Aya thought happily. While her parents always looked forward to the mask festival, they never seemed as excited as her…but seeing all three of them, even Tomo, happy and enjoying themselves like they never had before, filled Aya up with an overwhelming sense of joy.

I don’t wanna interrupt them…the Ogerpon frowned from behind her mask. Oh! I know! I’ll just go and eat my snacks really quickly and then come back so they don’t have to worry!

With her plan all figured out, Aya turned away and walked towards the distant houses with a smile.

- - -

As Aya sat down, ready to eat her goodies, something caught her eyes before she could remove her mask.

Another kid…around her age? He looked….kinda lonely.

Who spends the mask festival all by themself? Aya wondered, standing up. That’s so sad! Well, I know how to fix that!

Momo let out a squeak of alarm, cards flying everywhere as he fumbled his hand in shock.

“Oh no!” Aya let out a small gasp. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! Here, let me help!” The Ogerpon quickly hopped off her porch and onto the Applin’s, picking up the scattered cards.

“O-oh, um…,” Momo sputtered timidly, staring at her in surprise. “Y-you….you don’t….”

“Alrightie, here you go!” Aya smiled, handing the boy a stack of messily stacked cards.

“Um….thanks…,” the Applin looked down, methodically evening out the pile.

“What game were you playing?” Aya asked, sitting down next to him.

“O-oh…um….Hanafuda,” Momo quietly replied.

“Hanafuda? I love Hanafuda!!! It’s so fun!” Aya exclaimed, startling him with her sudden raise of volume. “I only really play it a few days before the festival starts with my dads, but I wish I played it more!”

“Y-you can, if you want to,” Momo added. “It’s…well…it’s a little weird if you play it outside of the festivals, but…um….well, I guess that didn’t stop me….”

“How many times have you played it?”

“Um….I’ve been playing since I was five, and…I try to play at least one game everyday, even if it’s just against myself…”

“WOW!” Aya exclaimed, leaning close to Momo. The Applin could feel his face grow red as she doled out praise. “That's awesome!! I bet you're a- no, THE best Hanafuda player ever!! Can I please play a game with you? Pleaaaaseeeee???"

"I....um...," Momo looked down at his deck, up at Aya, then down at his deck again

"Um...okay, sure, " he nodded, starting to shuffle the deck.

"Yay!!" Aya wiggled with anticipation as he drew the first card.

- - -

Many hours and many Hanafuda games later, the sound of laughter filled the air.

"And then," Aya finished her story with a giggle. "I realized it wasn't a monster at all, but a teeny tiny Skwovet!"

Despite his initial shyness, Momo found himself chuckling along with her. It was an odd feeling, being around her...something about the young girl made Momo feel at ease...was it her excitement? Her energy? He couldn't put his finger on it, but she was unlike anyone he had ever met.

"And...that's the last season," Momo smiled, placing down his last card. "I win."

"Again?!?" Aya exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. "Aw, darn! I'll beat you next time, I swear!"

Momo looked up at the sky, and, to his surprise, the moon was already past its highest point in the sky. "Oh...it's getting late," he frowned. "My family's probably gonna be looking for me..."

"Oh! Mine too!" Aya recalled her long forgotten pile of snacks. "It's funny....it doesn't feel like I've been playing long at all!"

"Yeah, me too...," Momo agreed. "I...I wish I could've played more with you..."

Suddenly, Aya was hit with a burst of genius.

"We don't have!" Aya smiled. "At least, not for very long! You can come visit me sometime, and we can play more then!" She pointed behind him. "I live up there in the mountains!"

"In the mountains? Woah..." Momo's eyes shone with awe. "Your family must be really strong if they live that far up..."

"Hehe, they are!" Aya bragged, placing her hands on her hips in pride. "I know a really cool clearing that's perfect for playing games! We can meet there!"

"Oh that sounds fun! Um....," he paused. "But how will we recognize each other...?"

"Ooh! We can wear our masks!" Aya suggested. "If we can play Hanafuda outside of the festival, why can't we wear our masks, too?"

"Ooh...good point," Momo nodded in agreement. "That....sounds good to me!"

"Yay!" Aya smiled and pulled the unsuspecting boy into a hug.

In her arms, Momo felt all the tension that had built up over the festival finally release...his posture relaxed as he lightly embraced her back, a small smile forming underneath his mask.

"AYAAAAAAA!" Upon hearing her name, the young girl hesitantly broke the hug. "Oh, that's my Oto-San!" She told him. "Well, I'll see you soon!! It was nice to meet you, Momo!"

As the Ogerpon ran off, the Applin shly waved to her. "Good-bye, Aya..!"

- - -

"Oh, thank goodness you're alright," Tomo embraced his daughter tightly, finally letting go of the breathe he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Sorry, Oto-San," Aya shyly apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you! You guys were having so much fun and I didn't wanna interrupt you...plus, I was with a friend, so i was safe!"

"Well, I'm glad you're alright," Miu sighed, gently stroking her head.

"Do you need to be carried back?" Kenji asked, kneeling down to Aya's level.

"Nope! I'm not quite tired yet!" The Ogerpon replied. "I bet I can walk all the way back by myself!"

"We'll see about that," Miu chuckled.

"Please don't push yourself too hard," Tomo added.

"Don't worry, I wont!" Aya replied with a grin.

- - -

AYA, HER DADS, AND MOMO HAVE LEFT THE FESTIVAL

[insertsomthinawesome]

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!! Okay so honestly I have been very very inconsistent over the years with just disappearing for periods of time due to various things 😂 So it probably seemed pretty normal to most people.

But it felt different on my side, so I'm excited to be back in business. I took a month long hiatus! 31 days of not drawing digital art. Its not something I talk about on here? But I've been suffering from some serious long term Art Burnout for.... a really really long time. Long enough that I should've taken a break probably years ago. It finally got so bad that I could barely draw. I was scared to do it (cause it always looked "bad" in my eyes [i'll come back to that]) and doing it was exhausting and disheartening.

I talked it over with somebody and realized that the fear and anger and frustration I felt towards my own artwork was uh. Not Normal or Healthy. And I finally committed to taking a real break for once.

I still drew a little bit by hand? Traditional art has always felt like it has lower stakes for me (i don't often share it online, and sometimes I don't even share it with friends) so I did some of that when I felt like it. But Digital art was completely off the table.

I had put such an immense pressure on myself to make my digital art perfect, to make as much of it as quickly as possible to satisfy something. It wasn't fun anymore. I'm proud of what i've made over the years! But for a long time now the stuff I've been making was made while hating every second of making it. With some rare exceptions.

I hated my art! It was a combination of Perfectionism, taking in too many external expectations, and the burnout. If you hate doing something its kinda hard to love it even when you want too lol. It wasn't "Bad" in the sense that the quality was low and it was ugly! It was "Bad" in the sense that it was unhealthy for me to keep doing it at that point in time.

I'm glad to report though, that with my hiatus officially over as of Wednesday last week: I am once again. In Love. With doing art, and being an artist :)

I put off taking a break for years cause I was scared that taking a break would mean that I would never achieve all the things I wanted to do with art. I was scared it was a stupid and lazy thing to do that would mean I'd never achieve my dreams. And Also even though I kinda hated drawing, I also loved making art. Its a weird duality that I can't even really explain??? I hated it but I also loved it. I wanted it but I also wanted to run from it. It wasn't until I was more mature and had more clarity and insight (and unfortunately also until the problems got worse) that I was finally able to let go of those fears and just do it.

And I'm really really glad I did. It was everything I needed. And I hope to strike a better balance in the future with art. Taking more breaks when I need them, or just when other things have my attention like reading or Video games (Some star rail got played during this time xD)

From the outside things probably aren't going to be that different?? At this point I don't really have any sure plans to post anything I've been drawing since my Hiatus ended. I might or I might not xD I'm still a hobbyist artist taking things at her own pace, but I hope that it shows how much happier I am :)

Whumptober 2023 is being officially put to rest by this post btw! I was in major burnout when that event started, and I'm ready to just, move on from all the past expectations I'd shoved on my shoulders. If I feel like filling any of the prompts or going back to any of the ideas I'd come up for it I will! But I'm not going to worry about doing it unless the desire sets in. Thanks to everybody who's been so kind to me throughout my time on here as an artist! Ya'lls tags and screaming and kind words, the fanfic, the asks and the responses? Its been fantastic :) You guys have made me laugh, smile, and cry tears of joy. I hope from here that things only get better and sweeter! And if I have bad days again, that's okay too.

Here's to 2024 and whatever it may bring ya'll :D 🎉🎉✨✨🧡💜

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 31

The Cost of Peace

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: The Children reel after Bone's visit. Bone seeks Viktor out.

Author's Note: HELLO AGAIN, ARCANE FANDOM!!! It's so, so good for all of us to be together again. And have new faces! I want to second @space-blue's sentiment from yesterday

I'm really excited that interest in the series is being reinvigorated by s2's premiere <3 That being said, several of us creators have put tremendous amounts of time, effort, and love into our art since s1. Please reblog and comment. We love 'hearts' and 'kudos' - but comments are really where the fuel to stoke the creative fires are at. Thank you <3

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 3.7K

The silence in The Last Drop vibrated. Like a violin string pull too tight; energy building from the inside-out, threatening to burst the container.

It was Sevika with the courage to break it.

“What do we do now?”

Her words broke the room from its trance. Bodies loosened, their gazes connecting with each other instead of the door. They murmured worriedly. Questions and concerns beginning to build.

“What if he tells the Enforcers?”

“What are we gonna do if Bone doesn’t support us?”

Then the anger rose up.

“Whatta fuckin’ traitor!”

“Topside lapdog!”

“Piltie fucker!”

“Never cared about the Undercity – “

“About Zaun!” a voice corrected.

Agreeing voices swelled.

“Oi! Aw’right! Settle, settle!”

Vander’s voice boomed over the lot of them. He stood, collected Bone’s glass, and went to lean against the bar next to Benzo. Silco rose as well. His eyes flicked to Kat in a quick quandary.

You’re alright?

Her lips flattened, in a failed attempt at a thankful smile. Instead, her brow firmed up, and her eyes hardened. A single curt nod was all the confirmation she was able to offer. Silco’s chin dipped, and joined his Brothers at the bar.

“We keep doing what we are doing,” Silco answered.

Despite not being as tall or as wide as his Brothers, Silco readily and easily drew the room’s attention. His zealousness and charisma just as – if not, more – eye-catching. He surveyed the room.

“This visit from our esteemed Councilor changes nothing. All it does is confirm what we already knew: That no member of Council has Zaun’s interest at heart. They even take our own, and mold them into pawns to keep furthering their agenda. To keep the Poor poor, and the Rich rich.”

The gathering rumbled in agreement, heads nodding.

“We should march across that Bridge, and storm Council!” a loud, ragged voice cried from the back.

Tolder, and the men near him, exuberantly agreed. Sevika wrenched her hand from Nasha’s, stomping forward, and threw her voice into the mix.

Vander’s eyes slid side-long to watch Silco’s face become edged and excited. Then the high whoops! of younger voices joined the crowd. The simmer of the room was slowly growing into a boil.

A panic clamped down on his heart. He thought about what Bone had said. And what Katya had said all those weeks ago. He smacked the glass down on the counter, and rose to his full height.

“We won’ be doin’ that,” he warned, voice a deep growl.

He gave the crowd a hard, pinning look. Vander could bluff. It was a survival skill he’d honed over many years. Just like mastering his fists. It was why he won at cards (save for when he played with Sevika). Why Silco did not know about his feelings for him. His stony face was a lie because his heart was battering his ribs, and his stomach had splattered to the soles of his shoes.

They didn’t have Bone’s support. It was never guaranteed, but having the Councilor condemn their movement shifted something in him. He supposed he must’ve held some subconscious, foolish hope that Bone, and his position on Council, would lend itself to a more easeful transition. One littered with less bodies. No more than necessary. If that was even a thing.

He hadn’t known the girl who’d been killed outside the Augmentation Alley scrap yard. She’d joined the cause recently. Riled up and hurt just like the rest of them. Frothing for change, and power over her own life. Just like the rest of them.

She should’ve been able to have it.

Instead, her name was added to the long, long list of Fissurefolk killed by Piltover.

The Undercity won’t survive a war with Piltover.

“Bone was right about one thing: we don’ have the means to take on Topside. Not right now. The augmenteers are crafting weapons and bullets. We have contacts now in Bilgewater who’re supplying us with firearms here n’ there. Smuggled alcohol fer fire-starters. An’ we’ll need all the time we can get.” He paused here, looked around the room. At Tolder and Sevika. Benzo and Silco. At Katya. “’Cause we all know that when Bone goes to meet Janna, Topside’ll come crashin’ down. He is the one thing between them n’ us right now, flimsy wall that he is. We build n’ prepare fer then.”

And hopefully something helpful comes up beforehand.

The energy in the Drop fizzled after that. The Children, angry and disappointed, mumbled into their drinks. When Tolder won his card game, he did not beam and gloat as he usually did. Sevika sat, arms cross, hunkered over her tankard; Nasha looking distant and uncertain at her side. Annie twisted through the crowd like smoke, eyes glossy and cheeks pink. Beckett pulled her into his lap when she wandered by, placing a grounding hand on her waist.

The Children left the Drop after finishing their drinks, too sour and foul-feeling to stick around. For the first time in a long while, Vander closed the tavern early. He, Silco, Benzo, Katya, and Sevika retreated to his private quarters.

Silco had not gone back to his drink since Bone left. Instead, he had begun chain smoking and paced feverishly around Vander’s kitchen. There was a manic flare to his eyes that Vander both sympathized with and watched warily.

“Well,” Benzo sighed after a while, tired of the silence, “there goes the plan of havin’ Bone’s support.”

“It was never a plan,” Silco spat, turning on heel and stomping back toward the sitting area.

“We have the whole of the Lanes!” Sevika proclaimed. Her silver eyes flashed. “Even Fissurefolk who haven’t officially joined the Children are standing beside us. None of them are taking down the graffiti, or eye-balling us weird. Everyone wants this!”

“Aye. Everyone does. But it doesn’ change the fact that we are still buildin’ up the means to protect ourselves,” Vander reminded hotly. “An’ even though everyone wants out o’ Topside’s shadow, they’re plenty who can’t defend themselves. We’ll need to be prepared for them.”

He hated that they did, but his eyes flicked over to Katya. She was leaned near the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She gave no indication that she had heard him, her amber eyes dull and unfocused.

Sevika scoffed. “Everyone in Zaun can fight. It’s what we’ve had to do since birth. Shit, Lu’s been pick-pocketing Enforcers since he was five. Even the old-timers will wield pick-axes and shovels. We need to show them we’re not afraid!”

“We’re not afraid,” Vander growled. He glared at Sevika, and she glared back. “We’re not afraid. And we can’t afford to be stupid. We keep doin’ what we’re doin’.”

He glanced up at Silco for confirmation. For back up. But his Brother continued to pace, face sharp angles and shadow under a plume of cigarette smoke.

“Fer fuck’s sake, Silco,” Benzo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sit down. Yer makin’ me seasick.”

Surprisingly, Silco did stop. He took the cigarette from his mouth – just a filter nub at this point – and smashed it in the ashtray on Vander’s table. He loosed a long breath, smoke shooting out through his nostrils, and curling about his face. A rageful dragon itching to crack armor and bones between its teeth.

“Sil,” Vander said. His voice was low, a plead humming beneath.

Finally, Silco looked at him. The wrath almost took Vander’s breath away.

“We keep moving forward as we have,” he said, voice gravelly with embers and cigarette smoke. “If they instigate further, we respond in kind.” He looked at Sevika, “We are not afraid.” To Vander, “We are not stupid.” To the room, “And we will not take peace as the prize.”

Like earlier, Vander’s stomach dipped. But he kept his face stoic and grim. Katya straightened and shoved her hands into her coat pockets, and stepped into the group’s circle.

“What say you, Sis?” Benzo prompted.

Katya’s jaw worked and her eyebrows furrowed.

Finally, she said in a hoarse voice, “Peace is not an option. I would rather die than have a peace that keeps us strapped to them. We deserve more than their crumbs and virtue-signaling. Freedom, or nothing.”

The silence grew tight again. The hairs on the back of Vander’s neck prickled, unease brushed against his gut. Silco looked at her with fierce, simmering pride.

“We should go,” he said quietly after a moment. “Mum’ll be waiting.”

Tentative fingers brushed against Kat’s arm, and she nodded.

“I should go, too,” Sevika said, pushing herself out from the table.

The darkness in her young face made Vander say: “Sev. No funny business.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” And she stomped from the room.

Silco and Katya made to follow her.

“Get home safe,” Vander said.

Silco nodded.

The silence followed Silco and Katya as they skulked through the dimmer, less traversed streets of Zaun. The sounds of the city were deadened by the blood rushing through their ears. Kat’s fingers squeezed and trembled between his. She’d only ever felt this angry at Heimerdinger.

You should be ashamed.

Her lungs froze remembering Bone’s words and his scathing glare. Painfully, her teeth gnashed together behind the tight line of her mouth.

How dare he . . .

His admonishment stabbed deeply. He knew what she, Viktor, and his constituents endured. And he had the nerve – the gall – to suggest that she should be ashamed for fighting for a better life for her brother? For herself? For the whole of the Underground?

Suddenly, Silco’s fingers slipped from hers. The absence sent a jolt down her spine, and she whipped around. Ugly fear shot through her, afraid she would see his silhouette fading away into the smudged shadows.

But he wasn’t. He stood, rooted to the cobblestones, his eyes an icy blaze cutting into the middle-distance.

“Sil?”

“I don’t want peace. I want freedom. We deserve no less.”

Kat searched his face carefully, eying the taut lines of light and dark that pulled his features into something fearsome. And desperate. She took a step towards him, and waited.

He swallowed. When next he spoke, his voice was ragged. Emotions reined in tightly, lest he snap and lose control.

“Zaun needs to be free. Not only is peace unacceptable, but it – it takes time if to be truly achieved. And it never is,” he added spitefully. “We have plenty of historical examples of that.”

Kat took another step closer. Her own anger tempered into something softer, preparing to help hold whatever it was he was slowly allowing himself to reveal. He still hadn’t looked at her, gaze still boring into an imaginary point ahead of him. The ice-hot fire in his eyes nearly glowed.

“Mum,” he started, voice growing horribly tight. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Mum won’t make it through the development and implementation of a peace treaty.”

Grief, heavy and sickly, weighed down Kat’s shoulders. Pulled her heart down to her stomach in a dead-weight.

Enyd was getting worse. To the point that she and Silco were beginning to help with her tailoring and bread deliveries. More days than not, she was too exhausted to travel outside of her home. And when she did, Zaun’s air choked her so much quicker than it used to. Already slight to begin with, she was losing weight. Her skin was growing duller, her hair thinning and turning limp.

She, nor Silco, nor Kat spoke about it. They only made the quiet adjustments necessary to keep Enyd as comfortable as possible. But Kat could feel Silco’s desperation beginning to grow manic. Willful denial a tantalizing balm offering to protect him from the harsh reality they were spiraling towards.

This was the first time Kat had heard him acknowledge his mother’s impending death. It had always been ‘she’s sick’ – never an out-loud admittance that she was dying. And, now, dying quickly.

Kat’s heart ached for him. The Blight, in her medical experience, did not have rhyme nor reason for how it progressed in a body. Some died within weeks of their diagnosis. Some got a few months to a few years. Very few, like Bone (Kat recognized that hacking sound he’d made. Wet and tearing and deep), got to live damn-near a full life.

Rage on Enyd’s behalf flooded through her.

It wasn’t fair.

Kat stepped closer, and took Silco’s face between her hands. He gave the smallest of starts beneath her touch, but the fury that had been building in his eyes quickly diminished. She didn’t say anything at first, just ran her thumbs over the jut of his cheekbones.

“Peace is not good enough,” she agreed quietly. We won’t make her wait for it.

The fire in Silco’s eyes rekindled, but this time it was more controlled. Strong hands came up, and hung themselves on her wrists. His thumbs brushed against her pulse point. The blood under Kat’s skin pumped steadily.

“You said you’d die before making peace with them. I don’t want that. I don’t want you to die for the cause. I want you to fight for it.”

The following day was beautiful. Powder blue skies streaked with whisps of cirrus clouds, the sun an intense, luminous pinprick high, high above. The air in Piltover was contentedly warm. Seats outside cafes were full, patrons enjoying their luncheons in the bliss of clear and comfortable weather.

Bone limped across the Academy’s campus with single-minded focus. He’d not seen Viktor since before Snowdown, and was hopeful that the boy would be taking his lunch outside now that the cold season had been blown out to sea.

His frail body thrummed and vibrated with anger and panic. He hadn’t slept a wink once he got back home from The Last Drop, his mind spinning with worries about what to do. How to best serve his people. How to protect them. How to keep them from harming themselves.

How to keep them from ruining everything.

Viktor had also not left his thoughts since leaving the Drop, either. He could not believe his sister would be so foolish. So selfish. Her involvement was jeopardizing everything for him.

Did he know? Was his sister stupid enough to use her brother as a mole for The Children of Zaun?

Bone’s blood boiled at the thought.

Finally, he spied the boy on his usual bench. Bone was surprised by the way his breath hitched at the sight of him. His sympathy for Viktor intensified, daring to transform into affection. In the span of twelve hours, he understood Heimerdinger’s want for Viktor to have a more secure spot on Piltover’s soil. Especially now. Especially now that it very much hung in the balance.

As Bone trudged up, he saw Viktor tinkering with a small mish-mash of metal in his lap. Per usual, his lunch sat untouched at his side. A fond smile tugged at Bone’s mouth.

“Mr. Slostov,” he greeted merrily, “fancy seeing you here!”

Viktor jumped, head whipping up at an alarming speed. His eyes were wide, bright, and owlish. He blinked and dropped his shoulders.

“Councilor.”

Bone smirked at him, cocking his head to one side. A small, self-conscious – but pleased – smile slowly spread across Viktor’s round face.

“Jarrot.”

“Better. May I sit with you?”

Viktor nodded, hurriedly adjusting his lunch and belongings. With a heavy groan and ungraceful plop, Bone took up the offered space. He stood his cane between his knees and rested his gnarled hands atop the tortoiseshell handle, giving a confident, casual air. A useful camouflage for his sensitive intention.

“What do you have there?”

Viktor looked down at the metal in his hands, turning it over. It looked like a set of wheels held together with a rubber band. Belatedly, Bone realized that there was a second, similar looking piece set on top of the paper that wrapped his lunch.

“It is a part of the motor mechanism for the boat I am building for Professor Heimerdinger’s class.”

“Ah.”

An awkward silence hung between them, too much time having passed since their last interaction to lend to flowing conversation. Bone gnawed the inside of his lip, pondering how to get information from Viktor without spooking him.

“We haven’t seen each other since before Snowdown,” Bone observed, casually glancing up at the trees that were beginning to bud. “Did the cold season treat you well?”

A shadow cast itself over Viktor’s face, and he shrugged in that way children do when they are upset but unwilling to talk. Whether it be because they don’t know how to voice their difficulties, or because they don’t want to get in trouble. Bone’s stomach churned, and he felt goose pimples appear on his arms.

“It was fine.”

“Was it? You seem . . . bothered by the question. If I may be so bold.”

Viktor’s mouth puckered and pulled to one corner, his brow furrowing as he tried to tug the rubber band to a gear tooth that was just too far away.

“I don’t like the cold. And Snowdown was in the middle of the week this year. I get off school, but Kat still has to work, so I had to stay on campus for the holiday.”

Bone’s hand tremored with the effort of keeping it from reaching out to cup Viktor’s shoulder. He knew the boy’s unique, lonely pain. The pain of having to exist on this side of the River in this time – under Piltover’s scrutinizing, prejudice gaze.

But he also knew that his and Viktor’s presences in varying esteemed circles were priceless cogs in the motor of progress to achieve equitability for the Undercity. They’d earned their stations so that, hopefully one day, other Trenchers would have much less of an uphill battle.

Bone hummed an understanding note, nodding sagely. “That is unfortunate. Especially right now with all the upheaval between our two cities.” He glanced sideways at Viktor to see if that garnered a reaction. His expression stayed stony, but did not deepen nor flicker. “Has your sister managed to stay safe while all of this is going on?”

The rubber band snapped out from between Viktor’s fingers, and whipped against his hand. He jumped and hissed. A small, angry, red welt began to grow on the web between his thumb and index finger. He shoved his hand into his mouth, sucking on the injury.

“Are you alright?”

Viktor nodded, and withdrew his hand from between his lips with a pop! He glared at the irritated reddened skin. A frown that was too-world-weary for such a young boy pulled his round cheeks down.

“Kat is – “ Viktor’s lips melded together, brows dropping. Bone waited on baited breath. “Kat has been keeping us home when I go back. I know she is just trying to keep me safe from what those people are doing – “

“The Children of Zaun.”

Viktor nodded. “Yes, them. Ever since they have appeared, she’s been keeping me home on the weekends.”

“To keep you safe?”

“That is what she says, but – “

Viktor paused, mouth clamping shut. Bone watched something fresh and hurtful flash in his eyes.

“But what, Viktor?”

Jumbles of thoughts made his brain hazy, words gummed up in his mouth, feelings thrashed inside his crumpled body. Viktor couldn’t decide what to say, how to say it, or what he was even feeling. In his mind’s eye, he saw Kat’s face – once full and kind – become dull and withdrawn. Nausea rippled across his stomach.

“I feel like something is going on.” Viktor hated how small and tight his voice had become. “She’s not telling me something. We’ve always been so close, and since before Snowdown it feels like she is going away.”

Suddenly, he hiccupped and sniffed. Hurriedly, horrified, Viktor set his invention down and wiped at his face. Shaking, he began to shove his belongings back in his satchel, embarrassment and confusion lighting his nervous system with the desperate need to get away.

Bone finally reached out to set a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, m’boy.”

“No. It is alright, Council – Jarrot. I need to head to my next class. There was something I needed to speak with Professor Holmgren about beforehand. I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to – “

As he rambled, Viktor sloppily stood, knocking his lunch to the ground and nearly falling over as he unevenly braced himself on his crutch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, limping away. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

Wanting to spare the child from further discomfort, Bone let him go. The ache in his chest grew with each uneven step Viktor took away from him.

While Bone now felt certain that Viktor was not being used by the Children, he still felt deeply sorry for him. He was glad for what he had told his sister the previous night. That she should be ashamed. Her actions were already tearing at her little brother’s tender heart.

Bone knew it was an awful thing to be alone. He’d felt it every day since becoming Councilor. It painfully intensified as he was realizing his fellow Fissurefolk did not feel supported by his political efforts.

Viktor knew what it was like to be alone. A brilliant child, unable to exist in the world he was born into because of his handicaps; unable to exist in the world he’d worked tooth-and-nail to get into because of where he had come from. No friends. Only a sister, who was now sacrificing their relationship, and his well-being, for a cause that would not end well.

A breeze blew by, ruffling Bone’s thin hair. His breath caught, and he quickly pulled the pocket square from his coat. He managed to bring the fabric to his mouth before the hacking started. His skeleton bent and shook with the force of the coughing. Abdominal and back muscles contracted painfully, threatening to pull and spasm.

When it passed, he folded the pocket square up without looking at the contents. Gently, he patted his forehead with the dry edge of the cloth. Bone’s breath was a sharp, shallow rasp – like a dull knife being pulled along a whetstone.

He needed to speak with Grayson, he decided. What he would tell her, he still wasn’t sure. But time was running out. For everyone.

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Coming Up Next: Kat's busy, so Viktor's goes out by himself to take his boat for a spin.

Next Chapter

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[centercitychronicals]

Center City Chronicles: Tzu-tza X Anya

So in an effort to make sure I write this whole book out, I'm gonna be posting chapters here. Hope ya'll end up enjoying the story, it's my Lemurian universe I'm trying to flesh out. I'll still be doing Oc x reader posts in between when I get writer's block with the series though.

18+ story, but this first chapter I don't think would be considered NSFW, but I still am putting a cut to stay consistent since next chapter gets slightly steamy. Also feel free to comment constructive criticism, It'll help me make this enjoyable for all of ya'll reading this for the long run!!

Chapter 1 Tzu-tza

Tzu-tza’s tail wrapped around the rolling chair’s leg in his excitement. Today was to be the day that he was moving ground cities… ok so it was only going to be for a month, but he had high hopes that it would end up being permanent. He spun in the chain while he waited for the holo vid connection to finish trying to connect to Anya’s. 

“Anya…”, he sighed dreamily. She was to be his mate or well, wife in human terms. She was human after all and he was trying to make a point of incorporating the terms of her people into his vocabulary, but he still liked the term mate more. It felt more significant that the description that pulled up when you searched for the word wife. 

As he continued to daydream about her, the chime of the holo connecting made him jump and nearly topple from his chair as he flinched backwards, and then scrambled to both fling himself to face the holo vid and right the chair before he fell.

“Snnck,” Anya made a sound, trying to keep from snorting at what he was sure was what she saw on screen. Just seeing her, and hearing her mirth kept him from feeling too embarrassed by the situation.

“Anya! You uh…” He cleared his throat and steered the conversation away from his moment of clumsiness. “How are you on this fantastic day, love?” He beamed at her and she mirrored his happy expression while he leaned in, staring at her lovingly. 

Honestly, how did he ever get so lucky as to meet her on the dating nexus. Out of all the humans still alive after the invasion that had rocked both their worlds, he had found her. ‘Anya…’, he thought to himself happily as he waited for her to recount her day so far.

It was early in the day, so he was sure not too much had to have happened yet, but he still wanted to check in on how she was since last night. Was he clingy? Sure maybe some people would think that way, namely the females of his race, but Anya was different, she didn’t mind if he clinged a little… or alot at times.

“Good so far, finished packing this morning so I should get there by the time you get through your side of customs. What about yours Tzu-tsa?” He would never get over hearing her say his name. Alot of his fantasies were just of hearing it sighed from her lips.

“Fantastic! I’ve been packed since last night, aaaand…” He drew out the word as he bent over to open his duffle bag and pull out a fabric wrapped gift, before sitting back up and showing the small bundle with a grin. “I have a gift for you.” He finished, hoping she would be happy to know he was bringing her something. 

“Oh Tzu-tza, you didn’t have to do that.” She said, face falling slightly and he swallowed, not sure why she wasn’t excited at the idea of getting a gift. His eyes darted to it quickly and his smile lost a bit of its luster. Was it too small? Is it because he ruined the surprise of bringing a gift in a roundabout way?

“I wanted to,” He tried to reassure her, “Really, I just brought it up because I didn’t want to forget to give it to you if I got carried away when I see you later today. Do you not… want it?” He trailed off, second guessing the gift idea. 

“Oh no no. I actually love that you got me a gift, because I’m bringing you one too. I just don’t want you to feel like you had to go out of the way for me.” Anya said softly, her features brightening back to her earlier expression and Tzu-tza felt relieved that he hadn’t done something wrong with bringing the gift up via holo. Though he didn’t like that she thought he went out of his way to get her one.

“Oh good, I was worried… I mean good about you wanting the gift, not that…” He was munching his tail fur with this. Why did he still get so tongue-tied around her? Sighing, Tzu-tza slumped in his chair slightly. “Sorry, I suppose I’m just nervous since we finally get to meet in person.” He admitted softly and Anya’s expressions softened so that she smiled lovingly back at him at the admission.

“I know saying, “Don’t be” probably doesn’t help, but there really isn’t any reason to be worried Tzu-tza.” She began and it only slightly helped his nerves, but he appreciated her attempt. “Though I’m a bit nervous too.” She whispered conspiratorially and winked in a way that had him snorting and relaxing further.

After that, a few hours went by as they chatted about any and everything before Anya had to reluctantly hang up so she could start heading to customs. Tzu-tza sighed as the connection ended and he stretched, popping his back and then tail, since it was an extension of his spine and also liked to kink up on him when sitting still for too long.

Looking around at his small apartment, he couldn’t say that he was going to miss it. He was met with four corner posts of cement, and whatever metal they used to construct the small dwelling, to help hold up the weight of the many floors above him. It was his, and he was grateful to have had it, but it wasn’t a home. Not really anyways.

At one point he had tried to decorate, but it was pricey and honestly he had never felt like wasting his credits on this place. His species female’s were so few now that he knew he had no chance with one of them. Nor did he really want to have had a chance.

They were larger than him, than any of the males of their species really, and highly aggressive. It was why they were out, above ground, on the ruins of Earth helping the human military defend the underground cities that everyone just shortens to the term ground cities, not wanting to be reminded where they lived. 

It was a quirk picked up from the humans, since his species was more than comfortable living below the surface. But the humans are who they all liked to follow along with in many of the trends. What with it being mainly the males of his species left, and almost all of them were enamored with the humans.

Slowly he got up and double checked his bag to make sure everything he was bringing with him was in there. Happy that he had everything he wanted to keep in the immediate month following today, he left his apartment with a grin. 

Here and there he saw males with their children, and he hoped to be like them one day. Anya having children didn’t really matter to him, sure he hoped she would have them with him one day, but if they never had kids? Well he would just doubly spoil her. But still, a small male with tiny toes and her adorable rounded ears would be a delight. Or even a spitfire of a daughter with talons would be just as charming.

Though, honestly, if they ever did have kids before above ground was safe, he would probably prefer daughters. A daughter would be able to protect herself a lot easier than a son would, but he didn’t like the idea of her going to the front lines if that was the case. Regardless, he would ultimately be happy with however their life turned out, because he would have a loving mate to call his own, and he was sure they would be mates. Because he had never loved anyone like he already loved Anya.

Lost in thought he didn’t realize how fast he made it to customs, and once he did? The nerves set in, hard. While he was elated to finally cross over from his ground city to the one connecting both his and the human’s ground city together. He couldn’t help the way his heart began to beat, nor the way his palms began to sweat.

What if his height actually ended up bothering Anya afterall? He was used to the attraction standards being an almost 180 from what the humans had. What if she saw him and immediately thought having a taller mate was grotesque? While he looked similar enough to her species, as humans and lemurians were close enough genetically that they were practically cousins. 

Plenty of hybrid children had already been born already from mating between the two species these past few years. Yet still he was a good foot taller than her at 7’1 and she being 5’6. He wasn’t used to that, and while he found the idea of a shorter mate charming - definitely all the easier to snuggle and love on - he also knew that human males didn’t normally have that sort of height advantage on their females either.

Pursing his lips he shook his head to try and clear his worries away. There was no use panicking over this, if she didn’t want someone taller she would have brought it up by now… he hoped at least. Then slowly, he made his way to customs.