#star sherrif | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magnagaruzenmon · 1 month ago

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A man named Doom NSFW

I am jolted awake, and I notice three things. The first is a badge on my chest it reads, “Sheriff of charisma: Doom” the badge is mostly one solid silvery metal with the name plate portion slotted in. This portion seemed to be more personalized.

After getting that accounted for my eyes snap to the weapons on the desk I sense a familiar malignant aura and pull from them. My weapons had been turned into two revolvers and a carbine with their blades fused to the firearms from the looks of it.

So that means I’ve been unconscious for some time possibly 3-4 days as the craftsmanship is par none, and that takes time.

The last thing I noticed was the young lady sitting in front of me. I sat up as my eyes fully “adjusted” and she came into view, absolutely stunning gorgeous figure hair cut short and just how I liked it, full lips and eyes that breathed intensity. Her hair was a light color but somehow still held strength and buoyancy.

As I moved she noticed me and I said to her,

“Am I dead, and are you an angel?”

The young lady pursed her lips into a faint smile hiding her emotions,

“Well aren't you a Charmer?” she said, my heart skipped a beat her voice was soothing and her eyes now focused were comforting and soft, “to answer your question though not that I know of Sheriff, but who knows? The man with pale horse could have revived you.” the young lady says.

I scratch my face as I think… for me its love at first sight. This girl has stunned me and I don't know how to feel really. The young lady smiles and says, “cat got your tongue?” I nod and reply,

“Its not often I'm met by someone with such captivating beauty okay,”

The lady’s eyes narrow judging before she steps toward me her eyes lock with mine then she says.

“Oh yeah you're smitten. Well Sherrif Doom my name is Momo Hirai. Nice to meet you,” I smile and take her hand. She giggles as I carefully take it and shake her hand. Since she's closer I get a better look at her. Her eyes are a lot softer and sillier up close. There's still an air of intensity around her but she’s also got a… squishy soft aura for lack of a better term. Its distracting. Her blonde/white hair wolf cut is as mesmerizing as the rest of her is. Unable to stop myself my hand finds the side of her face.

Momo surprisingly leans into my touch. “You know you're a bad omen, with a name like Doom and all,” she whispered as our faces grew close. Our eyes locked our bodies inching closer.

“Then make me a good omen and yours!” I exclaimed before kissing her.

The kiss was weird but cathartic. For most kisses are an expression of affection but this felt like an exchange of ourselves. Like I could feel myself giving a part of myself up to her and vice versa. I felt myself give up part of my relentless fire of zeal and passion what I got from her was a spring of calm and joy. It was intense as our hearts marked on each other and the stars bonded us together. When we broke it we stared at each other panting trying to calm our racing hearts. Momo spoke first

“Couldn't help yourself could you?” she teased. I shook my head and said

“Why would I settle for anything but the best?” Momo beams at me then kisses my forehead before a loud crash can be heard. We both roll our eyes before I grab my weapons and then Momo’s hand.

“Oh!” she gasps as I follow her out.

We walk outside to see the whole town (I'm assuming) rioting. I sigh dejected. I noticed that the town didn't all just look like Momo, but had a myriad of men and women with different skin tones builds and heights. In the scuffle, I also noticed some others wearing sheriff badges. I considered my next moves carefully. I could use my magic to stop the riot (and definitely scare the locals) or I could use a cantrip to maybe achieve the same effect. (with less incurred local terror)

“Well there goes my initial thoughts that this was going to be a “peaceful” job,” I thought to myself. Momo turned to me and asked if I'd help I nodded then reconsidered the previous options. I went with the former. I air-wrote a magic circle to make my voice louder than the commotion.

“Excuse me,” I say my voice echoes noticeably through the crowd. Momo turns to me and comments on the ring,

“Oh you're a mage?” she asks

I turn away from the circle so my voice doesn't boom at her.“Kinda. I didn't “study magic” in the traditional way.” I responded

Momo nods and then we turn back to the riot.

“Do you have any other tricks you can do magic man?”

I scratch my head and then say, “I have a bunch the issue is scaring the locals.”

Momo notes this as she says, “a mage who’s mindful about his terrible cosmic power, wow you are different,” she teaes. I shrug I look to her and notice a small rune on the left side of her collarbone.

“What is it ?” she asks?

I point to her collar. She looks down and laughs,“Oh so I guess you are truly in love with me” she says before she giggles some more.

“Its a mark of binding rune akin to symbolizing I found my partner, and have promised myself to them. My race does this when engaging in… marriage I think is the common word. You have one on your right shoulder t” Momo explains and I look down to see. There is an M-shaped rune on my right shoulder. I smirk and Momo asks, “what is it?”

“Well its not often that one gets married to someone so gorgeous.”

“Really you're taking this in stride?” Momo challenges. I nod.

“Before waking up this morning the last thing I remember is walking in a desert, and now I'm not only not in the desert anymore but married to one of the hottest gals I've ever seen. While it's not the best-case scenario it's still pretty good.”

Momo narrows her eyes “And what would be the best-case scenario?”

“Well, we'd be on a beach making out and living on a little idyllic villa really enjoying the honeymoon,” I say. Momo smiles and says,

“We can enjoy the honeymoon still but later we have a riot to stop…well you Mr magic Man,” she challenges. I sigh and have her move slightly behind me before I use more of my magic. As the skin on my hands and feet turn to metal and Loathefire spews out of the a familiar visage of flames covers my chest and opens. About 60-65 tendrils come out to grab the rioters and separate them nonlethally. When I was done my Loathefire dissipated I asked a simple question.

“Are you all done?” the town stared at me with a mix of intrigue and horror.

After the riot was cleared up, I found myself in a meeting with the other sheriffs: Aion, Jojo, Nevin, Grendel, Dredrom, and me, all seated at a large table in the sheriff’s office. Momo had left to help her friends Mina and Sana, the town’s tailors.

The air was thick with tension from the moment I sat down. I could feel eyes on me, sizing me up, judging whether I belonged here.

“So, who are you?” Aion asked first. His eyes were calm, but I noticed a subtle tilt of his head, the way his fingers drummed lightly on the table—he was cautious, already trying to unravel me before I even spoke.

“Well, I can’t say much, as I don’t remember much, but the name’s Doom, and I woke up this morning,” I replied. As I spoke, Dredrom and Nevin exchanged glances. Their jaws tightened—doubt, maybe even suspicion, was etched in the slight narrowing of their eyes. Nevin crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as if distancing himself from me, while Dredrom’s grip on the edge of the table betrayed his impatience.

“I’m sorry, but I find it a little far-fetched that you would just arrive in the cloak of night, brought in by the pale rider, and have no memory,” Dredrom responded, his voice clipped. He was trying to mask his discomfort, but the way his eyes flicked between me and the others gave away his insecurity—he wasn’t just suspicious, he felt threatened.

I chuckled lightly, watching the subtle shift in their postures—Jojo leaned forward, curious; Nevin uncrossed his arms, readying himself to argue.

“Well, this pale rider offered me a job, and I guess I said yes before collapsing in the desert,” I replied, deliberately keeping my tone relaxed. Humor was often a good way to diffuse tension, but Nevin and Dredrom weren’t in the mood. Nevin’s fingers tapped impatiently on his knee, his foot bouncing lightly under the table—he was on edge.

Before they could tear into me, Jojo interjected, his voice cutting through the building tension. “Your magic—what was it?” His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected. He was intrigued, not fearful.

“Loathfire. Specifically, Conqueror’s Spoils,” I answered. I watched for their reactions. Jojo’s expression shifted slightly—his mouth tightened, and a crease formed between his brows. Unnerved.

“It’s unnerving. Don’t use it,” Jojo said firmly. His tone was sharp, flat, like a command. I noticed how his hands remained still on the table, but his fingers curled just enough to signal discomfort. He didn’t like that power, and he wanted control over it.

I paused, knowing what I was about to say would ruffle some feathers, but that didn’t bother me. I caught Aion’s subtle shift in his seat, his eyes flicking between Jojo and me, sensing the coming storm.

“Um, no. If I need to use it, I will. I don’t care about scaring people if there’s a job that needs to be done. If it’s the tool I need, I’ll use it. Besides, you’re all magic users as well,” I said, watching their faces carefully. Jojo’s expression hardened, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t respond. Nevin’s hand tightened into a fist in his lap, his jaw clenched in frustration. Dredrom leaned forward, ready to argue, but Aion stood up before it could escalate.

Aion’s movements were slow, measured, the way someone steps in to diffuse a situation without directly taking sides. His eyes were steady as he looked between me and the others. “Then how about you teach it to us?” he asked, trying to maintain a calm but firm tone, though I could hear the underlying tension. It was a diplomatic move, but his clenched jaw revealed he didn’t fully expect me to comply.

I sighed internally, knowing again what I was about to say wouldn’t go over well. I noticed Nevin shift uncomfortably in his seat, bracing himself for an answer he wouldn’t like. Grendel’s eyes flicked between us, watching silently, assessing.

“No. It’s not something you can just teach or learn. And with some of y’all’s spirits, I don’t think you need this kind of power,” I said, my voice deliberately even, though I could feel the tension spike in the room. Nevin’s knuckles went white, gripping the table, while Dredrom leaned forward aggressively, his eyes narrowing with offense. His fingers twitched, as if itching to reach for something—a weapon, maybe, or just the control he felt slipping.

“Oh, and what makes you so right, Mr. Amnesiac and Mysterious?” Nevin spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He leaned in as if challenging me, his eyes burning with resentment.

I met his gaze calmly, keeping my tone measured. “You see power as a weapon. I see it as a tool. That’s the difference.” My words hung in the air, and I could feel the silent shift in the room—the way Nevin tensed, bristling under my response, while Dredrom leaned back, clearly agitated. Jojo’s gaze remained fixed on me, but there was something softer in his eyes now, a recognition maybe, or at least a grudging respect for my perspective.

Without waiting for a response, I stood up and walked out. As I reached the door, I caught Grendel’s voice behind me, low but unmistakable. “He’s strong, but he’s going to need to watch his back.” His tone wasn’t hostile—it was more of a quiet observation, the kind of thing someone says when they recognize the dangers that come with standing out.

I didn’t turn around, but I could feel the weight of his words. They weren’t a threat, but a reminder. In this world, power—whether as a tool or a weapon—always comes with a price. As I walked out I left my badge on the hook signifying I was “off duty”

Feeling hungry, I made my way down the dusty street to a building with a sign that read “Emanuel’s Victuals.” The sun hung high, casting sharp shadows across the wooden facade. As I stepped inside, the scent of sizzling meat and fresh herbs hit me—comforting, almost grounding.

Behind the counter, a man with kind eyes and weathered hands smiled at me, the kind of smile that felt like an unspoken welcome.

“How much is a heavy lunch?” I asked, stepping closer.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “We don’t really take payment here if you live here, especially not from the Sheriffs, Mr. Sheriff.” There was something about the way he said it—no fear, no awe. Just genuine warmth, like he’d already accepted me into the fold, even though I barely knew this town.

“We all work for each other here,” he added, and his words hung in the air. I could feel a sense of community in them, the unspoken bond that tied the people of this town together. It was different from the power plays I’d just walked out of with the other sheriffs. This felt real. Human.

I nodded, offering him a small, genuine smile of my own as I walked closer. He smiled back, something soft and shared passing between us in that moment. No need for words. We understood each other.

I ordered the special, and within a reasonable amount of time, a plate was placed before me—a ribeye, beautifully marbled and cooked to perfection, surrounded by spring vegetables that gleamed like they’d just been picked from the earth. It wasn’t just food. It was a labor of care, something crafted with the intent to nourish, not just feed.

As I ate, I found myself slowing down, really savoring the meal. Each bite was a reminder that life wasn’t just about conflict or survival—it was about moments like this too. Simple. Uncomplicated. I minded my business, letting the food and the quiet settle into me like an old friend.

When I finished, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a gold piece, something that was probably worth more than the entire meal. I set it on the counter and stood to leave.

The man’s eyes widened, his hand hovering over the coin like it was a foreign object. “I can’t take this,” he said, looking at me with a mix of surprise and confusion.

I laughed lightly, the sound escaping before I even realized it. “Consider it a tip,” I replied, as I headed toward the door.

His face softened, and I could feel the weight of the gesture sink in for him. In a town where no one asked for much, a small token of gratitude seemed like everything.

After leaving Emanuel’s Victuals, the warmth of the meal still sat in my belly, grounding me in the simple pleasures of this strange town. The gold coin had felt heavier in my hand than it should have. Something about this place—its people, its warmth—was getting under my skin. Despite the odd tension with the other sheriffs, I was starting to feel more… present. Like I could make something out of this place, out of whatever life I had left.

But before I could even take three steps out into the street, something shifted in the air. The world around me blurred, colors bleeding into each other like water on a canvas. My stomach lurched as the ground disappeared beneath me.

I barely had time to react before the world snapped back into focus—except now, I wasn’t in town anymore.

I blinked, taking in my surroundings. The warm sunlight outside had been replaced by dim, flickering candlelight. Shelves lined with jars of herbs, strange crystals, and an odd assortment of trinkets stretched along the walls. The air here was cool—almost unnaturally so—and carried the scent of damp earth and incense.

At the center of the room sat a woman. She stirred a cup of tea with slow, methodical movements, her pale fingers tapping the rim of the cup in a rhythm as cold and precise as her surroundings. She hadn’t acknowledged me yet, but I knew she was aware of my presence.

“You’re earlier than expected,” she said finally, her voice devoid of any warmth. She didn’t even glance up. “I thought you might have taken your time with that meal.”

“Where am I?” I asked, my voice still hoarse from the abrupt shift between spaces.

“My home.” She still didn’t look at me, her tone almost clinical, as if this was nothing more than a routine transaction. “You’re here because I brought you here.”

“And why’s that?” I took a step forward, my eyes searching her face for any sign of emotion, anything to indicate why I was here.

She finally looked up, her cold blue eyes locking onto mine. Her gaze felt like ice against my skin. “Because your only purpose is to be Momo’s companion. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I refused to flinch. I could feel the heat rising in me, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Only purpose?” I echoed. “That’s it? You drag me out of wherever I came from and tell me my only purpose is to serve someone else?”

She shrugged, a slight tilt of her head. “You’re here as a favor to my friend Giselle. She asked, and I delivered.”

My hands balled into fists. I wasn’t the type to explode, but the way she spoke—detached, emotionless, as if I were nothing but a cog in some grand machine—was stoking a fire in me. “You don’t get to decide that. I’m not just some tool for you to use.”

“Tool?” She arched a brow, her lips curling slightly in what could only be described as mockery. “You misunderstand, Doom. Tools have value. You are simply a means to an end. A temporary necessity.”

The chill in her voice clashed hard against the heat in my chest. Every word she said was like a slap in the face, stripping away any semblance of humanity I had left in this situation. But I wasn’t going to let her see me break. No, I needed to get her to understand something—and it wasn’t going to happen through anger.

“Look,” I said, my voice lowering, trying to rein in the heat. “I’m not trying to start anything here. I want to understand what’s going on. Maybe we can work together—figure this out.”

Her eyes flickered, but not with understanding. If anything, they grew colder, more calculating. She set her teacup down, her fingers resting lightly on its edge. “Work together?” She chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Why would I need to work with you? You’re here to fulfill your role. That is the extent of your usefulness.”

My heart pounded harder against my chest, not from fear but from frustration. How could someone be this detached? “You think that’s all I am? A role to play in some game? You’re talking about a person here.”

“A person,” she repeated, as if the word was foreign to her. “Your personhood is irrelevant. What matters is that you fulfill your function.”

I could feel the burn rising in my throat, but I held it back. This wasn’t the time to lose it. “There’s something else going on here. You say you brought me here, but you’re not the only one pulling strings.”

She raised a brow, her expression narrowing ever so slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“The man,” I said, my voice firm. “The tall pale man who claimed he brought me here, gave me a job. You expect me to believe that’s all part of your plan?”

For the first time, her cold exterior faltered. A flicker of confusion crossed her face, brief but telling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I stepped closer, sensing the crack in her façade. “So you don’t know everything after all.”

Her gaze hardened again, icy walls snapping back into place. “I brought you here. That is all that matters.”

“No,” I said, my voice steady with conviction. “It’s not. You might think you can use me however you want, but there’s more to this than you’re telling me. We both know it.”

She stood up suddenly, the air around us growing even colder. “You are here because I allowed it. Don’t mistake whatever other forces you think are at play as important. Your past, your future—they mean nothing.”

I laughed then, surprising even myself. “You think my past doesn’t matter?” I shook my head. “You don’t even know what I left behind, do you?”

Her lips tightened, but she didn’t respond. For the first time, I felt like I had the upper hand, even if only slightly. There was something she didn’t know, something beyond her control.

“You want to know why I’m really here?” I asked, stepping forward. “Then let me show you.”

Before she could react, I felt a surge of energy in the room. My memories flooded back, crashing into me with the force of a tidal wave. Blood. Battles. Victory. And then… silence. I had saved a city, defeated a warlord who had terrorized my people. And then, when it was over, I’d made a choice—a choice to erase everything, to forget, because I knew the temptation of power too well. I couldn’t become the thing I had defeated. then memroriew of the desert flashed and The white rabbit witch saw the pale man i reffered to earlier.

The witch watched me carefully as I came back to myself, her calculating eyes taking in every shift in my expression.

“Now,” she said, her voice quieter but no less cold, “do you see? You chose this. You chose to forget, to walk away from everything. That was your decision.”

I shook my head. “I chose to leave behind a warlord’s crown, not my humanity.”

She said nothing, her gaze fixed and unyielding, but I could feel the tension between us shift. Neither of us trusted the other completely, but there was an understanding now—something had brought me here that even she didn’t control.

“Whatever brought me here,” I said, “it’s not done with me. And it’s not done with you either.” The white rabbit Witch smirked.

The air in the White Rabbit Witch’s home was unnaturally still, the kind of silence that made every heartbeat feel loud, every breath too shallow. The room itself was strange—walls lined with trinkets that felt out of place in any reality I’d ever known. But despite the oddity of the surroundings, it was the woman before me who unsettled me the most.

The White Rabbit Witch sat with an elegance that bordered on eerie, her delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of a cup that never seemed to empty. Her gaze fixed on me, cold and calculating, as if I were a puzzle to be solved, a piece on a board she had already mastered. I felt the weight of her scrutiny, but I wouldn’t let it break me.

“Why me?” I asked again, slower this time, my voice straining to remain calm. I needed answers, not more riddles.

She raised an eyebrow, almost amused by my persistence. “I thought I made that clear,” she replied, her voice soft but icy. “You were the perfect choice.”

“Perfect for what?” I snapped, frustrated. “To be Momo’s—what? Companion? Some… pawn you shuffle around?”

Her lips curled into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it. “If you want to use such crude terminology, then yes. But I see you as more than that, Doom. I see you as the toy Momo needs.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, my hands curling into fists. “A toy?” I repeated, incredulous. “You brought me here to use me like some mindless servant?”

“Not mindless,” she corrected smoothly, her tone never wavering. “Far from it. I chose you precisely because you have a mind—a heart. One that Momo would find endearing. One that she could fall for.”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with a knowing look that made my skin crawl. “You were never selfish. Always putting others before yourself, always sacrificing your own desires for the greater good. It’s why you wiped your memories, isn’t it? You couldn’t bear the thought of becoming the very thing you fought against.”

Her words slithered through me, and I felt an icy weight settle in my chest. I had made that choice, long ago. To forget. To walk away from the power that could corrupt me. But the way she spoke about it—so casually, as though it was all part of some grand design—made me sick.

“And that’s why Momo would love you,” she continued, as though she were explaining an equation that had already been solved. “You’re exactly the kind of man she would want by her side. A good boy who always does the right thing. Who helps everyone but himself.”

I felt my heart twist at her words. Not because she was wrong, but because of how cold and detached she made it sound. Like I was nothing more than a carefully chosen pawn in her scheme. A chess piece placed just so.

“That’s not love,” I said, my voice tight. “You can’t force someone to love another person just because it fits into your plans.”

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with a glint of amusement. “Oh, Doom, you misunderstand. I didn’t force anything. I simply created the conditions. You’ve already done the rest.”

I stared at her, confusion knitting my brows. “What do you mean?”

Her smile deepened, as though she were about to reveal a hidden truth I wasn’t ready for. “You’ve already begun to fulfill your role, Doom. You care for Momo, whether you’ll admit it or not. You can’t help it. It’s in your nature.”

“That’s not—” I started to protest, but she cut me off with a wave of her hand.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” she said, her voice still eerily calm. “The way you look at her. The way your heart shifts when she’s near. It’s written all over you, in your eyes, in the way you talk about her. You’ve already started falling for her.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling my pulse quicken. “That’s not… you’re twisting things. I care about her because she’s a good person, not because of whatever game you’re playing.”

“Is it really so different?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, her cold gaze never leaving mine. “You think you’re immune to the pull of destiny, but you’re already tethered to her. Even now, you’re thinking of her—wondering if she’s safe, wondering if she needs you. You were always going to fall for her. That’s why I chose you.”

I took a step forward, my voice rising with anger. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She chuckled softly, a low, almost mocking sound. “Oh, but I do. You’ve always been predictable, Doom. Even without your memories, you follow the same patterns. You’re the hero, the protector, the one who sacrifices himself for others. You don’t see power the way others do—as something to wield like a weapon. You see it as a tool, something to be used carefully, sparingly.”

She stood up, gliding toward me, her presence filling the room like a shadow. “That’s why Momo will love you. Because you’ll protect her. You’ll put her before yourself, just as you’ve done for everyone else in your life. And in the end, you’ll realize that you were always meant to be by her side.”

I stepped back, my fists still clenched. “You’re wrong. I’m not some… plaything for you to manipulate. My feelings are my own.”

She tilted her head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Am I wrong? Look inside yourself, Doom. You already love her. You can’t even deny it.”

Her words hung in the air, suffocating me. And as much as I wanted to argue, as much as I wanted to push back against her manipulations, I couldn’t shake the truth of what she was saying. There was something there—something that had been building since the moment I met Momo.

But that didn’t mean I was going to let her control me.

“I’m not your puppet,” I said, my voice low, firm. “Whatever feelings I have for Momo, they’re mine. Not something you’ve created.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “You can tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better. But the truth is, you’ve already fulfilled the role I needed you to play. You care for her. You want to protect her. And soon, you’ll realize that everything I’ve said is true.”

I shook my head, anger burning in my chest. “You don’t get to decide that. I make my own choices.”

Her eyes gleamed with a cold, calculated certainty. “Perhaps. But the choices you’ve made so far? They’ve already led you here. And they will lead you back to her.”

There was no arguing with her, not in that moment. I could see it in her eyes—the absolute conviction, the belief that she had me figured out, that I was just a piece on her board, moving exactly as she wanted.

But I wasn’t going to let her win.

“Whatever you think you know about me,” I said, my voice steady, “you’re wrong. I won’t be controlled by you. Or anyone.”

She smiled, but it was cold, hollow. “We’ll see, Doom. We’ll see just how much control you truly have.”

As I turned to leave, her final words echoed in my mind, chilling me to the core. But no matter what she thought, no matter how deeply she believed she had orchestrated all of this—I knew one thing for sure.

My heart, my choices, were mine.

The air outside the White Rabbit Witch’s home was cooler than I remembered, though maybe it was just the weight of the conversation hanging over my head. The world around me seemed hazy as I walked beside her, my thoughts swirling like a storm I couldn’t outrun. The Witch’s soft footfalls barely made a sound as she led the way toward the tailor’s shop, her demeanor unchanged—calm, calculating, as if she were already three steps ahead of me in this game she claimed we were playing.

For a while, the only sound between us was the distant murmur of the town and the occasional rustle of leaves caught in the breeze. I thought she might stay silent the entire way, but then she spoke, her voice carrying that same eerie certainty that had unnerved me inside her home.

“You’re struggling,” she said softly, not even turning her head. “You’re trying to fight the inevitable, Doom.”

I clenched my jaw, not in the mood for another round of her manipulations. “I’m not fighting anything,” I replied, though the words tasted hollow even to me.

She glanced at me, her eyes sharp and knowing. “You are. I can see it in the way you carry yourself. The way your mind races, trying to reconcile what you feel with what you think you should feel.”

I didn’t answer. What could I say? That she was wrong? That I wasn’t confused, wasn’t battling against this… thing building inside me for Momo?

I’d never been good at lying, especially to myself.

“Let me make it easier for you,” she continued, her voice unyielding but not unkind. “Momo… she’s drawn to you for a reason. You’re exactly the kind of man she needs. Someone selfless, someone who will always put her first. You already do it without even realizing it.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I don’t… I don’t want to be just some puppet in your game.”

“You’re not,” she said, stopping briefly to face me, her gaze piercing. “This isn’t about me. It’s about her. And you.”

She began walking again, and though I tried to keep my mind focused, her words burrowed deep into my thoughts.

“You protect her because it’s who you are,” she said softly, almost like she was talking to herself now. “You care for her in ways that are impossible to fake. And I’ve seen how she looks at you too, Doom. Momo isn’t blind to it. You just haven’t let yourself fully see it yet.”

I shook my head, struggling against the truth she was laying out in front of me. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” the Witch replied with a small shrug. “But don’t mistake complexity for resistance. Feelings, real ones, grow despite the complications.”

I didn’t have a response to that. I couldn’t, because she was digging at something I didn’t want to admit, not even to myself.

“She needs someone like you,” the Witch pressed on, her voice taking on a more personal tone, almost… gentle. “A man who isn’t driven by selfish desires. Someone who sees the world as more than just a place to take from, but as something to give to. And you—” she glanced at me with something that looked dangerously close to pity, “you’ve always given more than you’ve taken, haven’t you?”

I looked away, my chest tight.

Before I could respond, we turned the corner, and there was the tailor’s shop, nestled between two smaller buildings. The Witch stopped a few paces before the door, turning to face me fully.

“You’re perfect for her, Doom. Whether you want to believe it or not.” She stepped closer, her eyes locking onto mine, and I felt that weight in my chest again, heavy and suffocating. “Stop fighting it. It’s already there. You just have to let it be.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to say something that would counter her manipulations, but the words caught in my throat when the door to the tailor’s shop swung open.

And there she was.

Momo.

She stepped out, her eyes lighting up the moment they met mine, and before I could react, she rushed forward, throwing her arms around me in a tight, warm embrace.

It was like time stopped. My arms instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close. Her scent—sweet, familiar—washed over me, and every single flutter and jump in my heart felt like an earthquake in my chest. My pulse raced, and I could feel her heartbeat against mine, the way her body pressed into me like we were meant to fit together.

For a moment, the world disappeared, and it was just her.

Just Momo.

And in that instant, I knew the Witch was right.

I did care for her. More than I was ready to admit. More than I could hide anymore. It wasn’t just a passing feeling—it was something deeper, something real. Something that had been there since the moment we met, whether I’d seen it or not.

When Momo finally pulled back, her eyes were shining with warmth, her smile soft and genuine. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice like music in the stillness between us.

I swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of her gaze, the way my heart was still racing. “Me too,” I managed to say, though my voice sounded distant to my own ears.

And then, just as the world seemed to settle back into place, I felt a presence beside me. The Witch leaned in close, her voice a whisper in my ear that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t fight it, Hero,” she murmured, her breath cold against my skin. Her whispers echoed in my mind even after she left

I felt a strange, soothing warmth seep into my mind, calming the storm of emotions that had been raging just moments before. It was subtle, like a soft wave washing over me, but I knew immediately what she had done.

A spell.

She had cast something to calm my emotions, maybe. But despite the initial resistance in my gut, I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t. Not now. Not with the way Momo was still looking at me, her eyes full of something I couldn’t name, but felt in every fiber of my being.

The Witch pulled back, her expression unreadable, though I could feel the satisfaction radiating from her. “See?” she said, her voice carrying a note of finality. “It was always going to be like this.”

And as Momo gently took my hand, leading me toward the tailor’s shop, I couldn’t help but wonder if the Witch was right about everything.

Maybe this was always how it was meant to be.

The warm light of the tailor’s shop cast long shadows across the floor as I stepped inside with Momo still holding my hand. The feeling of her fingers intertwined with mine was grounding, almost like an anchor keeping me steady amidst everything swirling in my mind. The White Rabbit Witch’s words still echoed in my head, but I pushed them aside for the moment.

Mina and Sana were waiting inside, their faces lighting up as we entered.

“There’s our new sheriff!” Mina grinned, giving me a once-over. “Or, should I say, soon-to-be well-dressed sheriff.”

Sana gave me a playful wink, already pulling out fabrics and boots from the back of the shop. “We’re going to make you look fantastic, Doom. Momo’s been talking about this all morning.”

Momo laughed, the sound soft and melodious. “I figured you could use something a bit sturdier than what you’ve been walking around in. Especially since you have a tendency to… well, burn things.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Fair point,” I replied, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. “I’m not exactly… subtle with my magic. But I’ll try not to destroy your hard work.”

Sana and Mina exchanged glances, clearly amused by the banter between us. Mina stepped forward, placing a hand on my arm as she led me toward a row of neatly hung clothes. “Don’t worry, we’ve got just the thing. Boots and clothes enchanted to withstand whatever magic you throw at them. We don’t mess around here.”

Momo stood next to me, her gaze warm. “And besides, I’m sure you’ll look amazing in whatever they pick.”

I raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to her. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I don’t look like a fool?”

She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “Exactly. I have to protect my investment, after all.”

“Your investment?” I chuckled, playing along. “I didn’t realize I was part of your portfolio.”

“Oh, you are,” she said, stepping a bit closer. Her voice dropped to a soft, teasing tone. “And I expect a high return.”

Sana pretended to gag in the background, making exaggerated faces. “Oh no, they’re flirting. Someone stop them.”

Mina smirked, folding her arms. “Let them have their fun. Besides, it’s cute.”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, but I didn’t break eye contact with Momo. The tension between us felt electric, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm. Inviting. I was still getting used to the fact that I wasn’t fighting it anymore, and now, standing here with her, it felt… right.

Sana came up behind me, tapping me on the shoulder. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s get to work. Doom, off with the coat.”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Momo. “You sure about this? I’m not exactly… a fashion icon.”

Momo laughed, crossing her arms as she watched me. “Oh, I’m very sure. Now, stop stalling and let the professionals do their job.”

I grinned and shrugged out of my old, worn coat. It felt strange to be standing there without it, like I was missing part of myself, but Momo’s approving smile was enough to keep me from second-guessing.

Sana and Mina wasted no time, throwing a perfectly tailored shirt over my head and pulling me toward a tall mirror. The fabric was light but sturdy, the cut sharp but comfortable. The designs were floral and pretty yet still masculine in color.

“Looking good already,” Sana said, adjusting the collar. “But we’re not done yet.”

Mina came forward with a pair of dark pants and a belt, holding them up with a smile. “Try these. They’re enchanted with anti-burn magic. Even your flames won’t get through these bad boys.”

I took them from her and quickly changed, feeling a little out of my element with all the attention. When I stepped back out, though, I couldn’t help but be impressed with how well they fit. The pants were flexible, and I could feel the enchantment humming faintly in the fabric.

But it wasn’t until they handed me the boots that I really felt like I had stepped into something new. They were heavy but balanced, they were a metallic sheen that was tough but comfortable. I tugged them on, rolling my shoulders as I stood up straight.

“We call them lavaspur boots,” Mina said happily.

“They are the only non enchanted clothes we made as they are made of magical leather and metal that can take temperatures up to 15 million degrees,” Mina added

“So how do they feel?” Sana asked wide-eyed.

I moved my feet around a bit and took a few steps. “I like em… I like all of the outfits and clothes you've given me thus far. Thank you so much,” I responded

The two girls smiled and said, “Well you're very welcome Sheriff Doom,”

I turn to Momo to get her take and she stares me focused.

“You look…” Momo’s voice trailed off for a second, her eyes wandering over me appreciatively. She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing just slightly. “You look great.”

I smiled at her, feeling that same flutter in my chest I’d felt outside the shop. “Thanks,” I said softly, stepping closer to her. “Though I’m sure it’s not just the clothes. I’m pretty sure it’s the company that’s making me look this good.”

Her face broke into a wide grin, and she punched me lightly on the arm. “You’re impossible.”

Sana and Mina exchanged knowing glances before stepping back, clearly deciding to give us some space.

I reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind Momo’s ear, my fingers lingering just slightly. “Maybe. But you seem to like me this way.”

She laughed, a soft, breathless sound that made my heart skip. “Maybe I do,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine.

For a moment, we were just standing there, inches apart, the world fading away. It was just her and me, and the warmth between us. It was real. Tangible. And it scared me how much I wanted it to stay.

Before I could say anything else, I felt a light hand on my shoulder. The White Rabbit Witch had reappeared, silent and sudden as always. She leaned in close to my ear, her voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t fight it, Hero,” she murmured, her words echoing the spell she cast earlier. This time, though, there was something else—a deeper, almost primal magic settling over me, calming the rush of emotions I’d been battling. “Just let it be.”

I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the tension leave my body. When I opened them again, Momo was still there, smiling up at me, her eyes filled with warmth and something more. Something that made my heart race all over again.

The Witch stepped back, her presence fading into the background as Momo reached out and took my hand again, her fingers fitting perfectly with mine.

“Come on,” she said softly, tugging me toward the door. “Let’s show everyone the new and improved Sheriff Doom.”

I let her pull me forward, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t afraid of what came next.

The tailor shop buzzed with laughter and warmth as I looked down at my newly acquired outfits, all thanks to Momo, Mina, and Sana’s tireless efforts. I had to admit, they’d outdone themselves. I felt different in these clothes—lighter, yet somehow more grounded. The enchanted fabrics hummed with magic, shielding me from burning them away, which was a relief.

As I finished buttoning the last shirt, Momo looked up at me, her eyes soft and warm. “You clean up pretty well, Sheriff.”

I grinned. “All thanks to my personal fashion squad.”

Sana smirked and brushed off an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. “Well, we do what we can.”

Mina clapped her hands together, her excitement palpable. “Okay, now that the makeover’s done, what’s next?”

Momo’s face lit up. “How about dinner? I was thinking we could all have a nice meal at my place tonight. What do you think?”

Sana immediately perked up, her eyes gleaming. “Ooh, count me in! What about you, Mina?”

Mina nodded eagerly. “Definitely. We’ll bring some food—and maybe a couple of extra guests?”

Momo smiled. “The more, the merrier.”

With plans made, we all parted ways for the moment, agreeing to meet later for dinner at Momo’s place. As Momo and I walked toward her home, the evening air seemed charged with something unspoken between us. Her hand was warm in mine, her laughter like a melody that lingered in the spaces around us. It felt effortless, as if we’d always been walking side by side like this.

And yet, the warmth in my chest grew harder and harder to ignore.

Stopping in our tracks, I turned to her, letting the feeling take hold. Before either of us could speak, I leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t like the others we’d shared earlier. This time, it deepened, grew more insistent, and with it, something stirred in the air around us.

I felt the pulse of my own magic responding, flaring up like embers catching wind. Behind Momo, shimmering waves of light began to dance in the dimming sky—auroras, glowing ribbons of colors that wove and twisted with a beauty that seemed almost alive.

When we finally broke the kiss, I stared at her in awe.

“You’re a mage too?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Momo nodded, her cheeks glowing almost as brightly as the auroras behind her. “Not a war mage like you, though,” she said with a soft laugh. “My magic is music and dance. It’s… gentler, I guess.”

I nodded, still mesmerized by the lingering traces of light around her. As the magic faded, we continued walking, the quiet between us now heavy with unspoken understanding.

Imagine my surprise when, as we approached her front door, I saw a familiar figure curled up on the porch—a hulking, scaly mass that could only be one thing.

“Blastoise?” I called out in disbelief.

At the sound of his name, his large, glowing eyes snapped open, and his massive tongue lolled out in joy. With a low rumble, he bounded forward, licking my face enthusiastically.

I laughed, my arms wrapping around his neck as I hugged him tightly. “I missed you, big guy.”

Behind me, Momo tilted her head, her expression one of delighted curiosity. “You know this big guy?”

Still scratching behind Blastoise’s ears, I glanced back at her and nodded. “Before I was brought here, I set him free. He was one of the warlord’s experiments—one of the few that survived.”

Momo’s smile softened as she crouched down to pet Blastoise’s sturdy shell. “I’d never have guessed,” she said.

Blastoise gave a satisfied huff, leaning into her touch as if he already adored her.

Inside, as we began preparing dinner, I couldn’t help but notice Momo’s enthusiasm in the kitchen… and the minor chaos it caused. Her measurements were off, her timing a bit rushed, and some things were on the verge of burning.

“Uh, Momo?” I asked gently, stepping in as she reached for a skillet that was a little too close to charring its contents. “Mind if I help?”

Her eyes flicked to mine, relief evident in her smile. “Please do.”

Together, we salvaged the bread from over-baking, adjusted the seasoning on the stew, and kept the vegetables from turning into an unrecognizable mush. By the end, the kitchen was filled with delicious aromas instead of the smoky haze we’d narrowly avoided.

Just as we were setting the table, I heard a low growl coming from outside.

Blastoise.

Momo glanced toward the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Blastoise, stop it! They’re our guests,” she called as she opened the door to reveal Sana, Mina, Jojo, and Nevin standing on the porch.

Sana gave a low whistle, eyeing the tortoise-dragon hybrid with amusement. “Finally gave him a name, huh?”

Momo shook her head, grinning. “Nope. Garuzen named him—since Blastoise is his friend.”

Jojo and Nevin exchanged a look, their collective sigh audible as they stepped inside.

The moment their eyes landed on me at the stove, an expression of surprise flickered across their faces.

“Wait, you’re cooking?” Jojo asked, his tone teetering between disbelief and amusement.

Mina, ever the peacekeeper, laughed softly as she nudged him. “It’s not that hard to believe. He does seem like a man of many talents.”

Sana smirked, leaning casually against the counter. “Guess you’re full of surprises, Sheriff.”

Momo beamed at their reactions, clearly proud of how seamlessly I’d stepped into the evening’s preparations. I chuckled, shrugging as I plated the last dish.

“Just trying to make myself useful,” I said simply, though the warmth in my chest had nothing to do with the food. It was the way Momo looked at me—a mixture of gratitude, affection, and something deeper—that made me feel, for the first time in a long time, like I belonged.

Dinner was ready, the table was set, and the room buzzed with laughter and conversation. Blastoise, ever the vigilant guardian, settled himself outside the door, his glowing eyes keeping watch over the night.