#yes i did name his dog Mighty

[damneddamsy]

second sight | cregan stark x fem!oc (bonus ii)

a/n: I'm back on this bonus feature, a special episode of the Stark-fluff, I'm giving you deleted scenes! Yay! So these did not make the cut for the chapters I wrote, they were either repetitive or just meh, but I did work on them so I thought you'd all love a glimpse :)

SCENE #1 (part i) - I DON'T TRUST YOU

Winterfell had grown colder since her arrival.

It wasn’t just the weather. The halls felt different—quieter, more shadowed, the cold biting sharper than it had in years past. Since the day Claere had stepped across Winterfell’s threshold as his bride, whispers followed her, as persistent as the wind that howled through the keep.

Cregan Stark sat at the head of the long table in the Great Hall, a ledger spread open before him. The flicker of torchlight danced across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw. His supper, a hearty stew that had long gone cold, sat untouched beside him. But it wasn’t hunger gnawing at him tonight.

His thoughts were tangled, circling back to the same place: Claere.

She unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain, though he prided himself on reason and instinct. She moved through Winterfell as though she were of another world—her silvery hair catching the light in a way that seemed otherworldly, her violet eyes drifting to things no one else seemed to notice. Her habits baffled the household. She barely ate, spoke sparingly, and often vanished for hours into the grey skies on her mighty dragon. The servants whispered of seeing her wander the halls at night, murmuring to herself in a language older than the North.

Cregan had witnessed it himself: her wandering, barefoot, as if in a trance, her lips forming soft, lilting words that left him uneasy. There was something haunting about her, something unknowable. Even the dogs kept their distance, tails tucked low when she passed.

He tried to dismiss the gnawing whispers as nonsense. Claere was a young woman far from home, a stranger in the harsh, unyielding North, navigating customs as cold and unrelenting as its winters. Of course, she would struggle. Of course, she would seem strange.

And yet, the stories clung to him like frost on iron.

The Valyrian witch, they called her. The true queen of pale fire and blood magic. Beautiful, yes, but unnatural—a creature of strange songs and sleepless nights. Whispers filled the keep, spoken in low tones by bannermen and servants alike. They said her kind preferred the taste of human flesh to that of beast, that her gifts were double-edged: capable of charm and destruction in equal measure.

Cregan had never been one to indulge superstition. The North demanded practicality, not folly. But Claere...

Her harp’s strange, haunting melodies still lingered in his mind, dissonant and otherworldly. Her violet eyes, too large, too sharp, seemed to see into places no mortal gaze should reach. She walked the halls of Winterfell in silence, barefoot and unflinching, her expression distant as if caught in a dream—or a curse.

With her, the line between myth and reality blurred in ways he hated.

A sharp echo of boots on stone pulled him from his brooding. He looked up from the ledger to see two figures approaching the long table, their movements halting and uncertain. A man and a woman, wrapped in wool cloaks patched from many winters past, their faces pale and taut with worry.

“My lord,” the man began, his voice trembling as he bowed low. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his cloak, twisting the frayed fabric nervously. “Forgive the intrusion, but we... we need your help.”

Cregan closed the ledger with deliberate slowness, the thud of its binding echoing in the chamber. He stood, his dark brows knitting together. “Help?”

“Our children,” the woman blurted, her voice cracking as she clutched her husband’s arm. “They’ve not returned from the woods. They went out hours ago. They were with...”

She faltered, her throat tightening around the name.

“With?” Cregan prompted, his voice cold and edged with steel.

“With the princess,” she whispered, her eyes darting toward the floor.

The name landed like an axe stroke.

“Claere?” The word came sharp, almost incredulous, but the knot in his chest tightened.

“They were curious about her, my lord,” the man added hastily. “About that dragon. My lady, she told them stories, and... well, they followed her.” His voice grew quieter. “We thought they’d be back before long, but they haven’t. It’s... it’s nearly sundown.”

Cregan’s gaze shifted to the narrow window, where the last streaks of sunlight bled orange into the encroaching dark. The North woods were no place for small children, not with wolves and worse lurking in the shadows.

“How old are they?” he asked, his tone clipped, his jaw tightening further.

“Six and four,” the woman said, her voice trembling. “Their names are Jonnel and Betha. Please, Lord Stark. Please bring my pups back to me.”

Her words cracked with desperation, the kind only a mother could summon. But Cregan barely heard her. His mind was already racing, drawn inexorably back to Claere.

Her strange, sleepless eyes. Her murmured words to herself, were too soft to catch yet unsettling in their rhythm. The echoes of the harp still rang faintly in his mind, haunting and cold.

The rumours clawed at him like unseen hands. Could she truly have harmed the children? The image of her, pale and otherworldly, the fire casting strange shadows across her sharp features, surfaced unbidden. He thought of the dragon she claimed was hers, a beast as enigmatic as its mistress.

No. He shook his head as if to dislodge the thought. It was ridiculous. It had to be. But still...

“Ready the horses,” he said, at last, his voice a low growl.

The woman sobbed with relief as her husband bowed low. Cregan turned away without another word, fastening his cloak and striding toward the courtyard. His men fell in behind him, ready to patrol, their silence speaking to the gravity of the task ahead.

As they mounted, he cast one last glance toward the keep. Somewhere within its ancient stones, she was likely unaware of the turmoil she’d caused—or worse, unbothered by it.

He spurred his horse forward, his thoughts darker than the woods they now entered. Whatever they found out there, he knew this much: Claere was not a woman to be trusted.

x

The woods swallowed the last light of day, the shadows deepening to a near impenetrable black. The only sounds were the crunch of hooves on frosted leaves and the occasional snap of a branch underfoot. Cregan rode at the head of the patrol, Ice strapped across his back, its weight a constant reminder of duty.

The trees closed in around them, gnarled branches clawing at the sky, and the cold bit sharper here, as if the forest itself sought to repel them. His men called out the children’s names—Jonnel, Betha—voices ringing out into the empty expanse. But none dared call for her.

His breath misted as his thoughts churned. The bloodied image of Claere from his imagination melded uncomfortably with reality. The rumours whispered in Winterfell grew louder in his mind. He gripped the reins tighter.

“Lord Stark!”

The shout snapped his attention forward. One of the men pointed, and there she was, emerging from the underbrush like some ghostly specter. Claere.

Her hands were slick with blood, crimson streaking her pale fingers and arms, as though freshly painted. Her skirts, once pristine, were smeared with mud and more blood, dark streaks dragged haphazardly across the fabric as if she’d wiped her hands there in haste. Her feet were bare, toes red and raw against the frostbitten earth, and her hair had fallen from its usual bindings, wild tendrils framing her gaunt, hollow face.

Cregan halted his horse so abruptly it reared off the track, and he dismounted in a single swift motion. Ice sang as he drew it, the great blade gleaming even in the dim light.

He approached his wife slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

Claere’s head lifted at the sound of his boots crunching against the frost. Her violet eyes, tired and strange, met his. She took a hesitant step forward, but he raised the blade. Wordlessly.

Her steps faltered. She blinked, and though her expression remained still, her hands trembled, her fingers twitching at her sides. Slowly, she stepped back, lowering her eyes to the ground.

"My lord," she said, her voice hollow, as if the words were spoken from a great distance.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. The stories screamed in his mind—the Valyrian witch, blood and fire, the maneater, the beautiful demon.

“The children?” His voice was low, hard, edged with suspicion.

Claere did not flinch. She turned her head, glancing westward. “The brook by the tall trees,” she said, her voice faint and uneven. “I only tried—”

But he didn’t wait for more. He sheathed Ice and strode past her, his pace swift and resolute. His men followed, their torches bobbing behind him like fleeting will-o’-the-wisps.

The landmark came quickly, the brook glinting faintly in the moonlight, its surface not yet frozen over. At its edge stood a towering tree with roots gnarled and exposed, reaching toward the stream like claws. Beneath its shelter, he saw them.

Jonnel and Betha.

The children were huddled together beneath a cloak far too large for them, their small feet tucked into the softness. Claere’s cloak. The fire before them sputtered weakly, the last of its life fed by scraps of leather—her shoes again, he realized, sacrificed to the flames.

For a moment, he simply stared, the scene pressing on him. The children were unharmed. Warm. Protected.

The men moved quickly, retrieving the little ones, murmuring reassurances as they wrapped them in blankets. Cregan didn’t follow. His gaze remained on the remnants of the fire, on the makeshift items strewn about—the cloak she’d offered, the shoes she’d burned.

When he turned back toward the woods, he saw her standing at a distance, her shoulders hunched as if against the cold. Her hands hung limply at her sides, stained red but empty. She did not meet his eyes, staring instead at the children being carried away.

The suspicion that had burned so fiercely in his chest faltered. He looked at her again—not the witch, not the monster, but the woman who had given what little she had to keep two helpless children safe. The moment stretched, and he felt something stir—an unease that wasn’t borne of mistrust, but of something far heavier. Guilt.

Yet still, the concern lingered. The blood on her hands, the strange air about her—it was all too much. Too foreign. Too other.

He shook it off and turned away, climbing into his saddle. The ride back to Winterfell would be long, and the questions clinging to his thoughts longer still.

“The horses, my lord,” one of his men called, gesturing toward the horses. An extra one.

“Leave her one,” Cregan commanded. “Let her do as she pleases.”

He cast one last glance over his shoulder. She had taken to kneeling by the brook, a silent figure against the shadowed woods. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if she was praying—to whom, or for what, he could not say.

And then he rode on, the ghost of her presence trailing after him like a haunting he could not outrun.

x

Cregan leaned against the cold stone of the ramparts, the weight of the night pressing down on him. Below, the gates of Winterfell stood sturdy and silent, the soft glow of torches marking the perimeter. His breath came in slow, heavy puffs, mingling with the frost of the air. He told himself he wasn’t waiting, and yet his eyes lingered on the road leading from the woods, scanning for the faintest silhouette of a rider.

Her bloodied hands plagued him. He shook his head, frustration knotting his chest. What had he done? In his anger, his doubt, he had left her. The memory of her kneeling by the brook, her skirts muddied, her face hollow with exhaustion, burned itself into his thoughts.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running a gloved hand through his hair.

The sound of hooves on stone broke the quiet, and his heart stuttered. He leaned forward, eager, catching sight of a figure dismounting in the courtyard below. It was her—already within the keep. She hadn’t taken the horse he’d left; she’d come through Winter Town. Barefoot, frostbitten, her steps faltering but determined.

By the time Cregan reached her chamber, the air was thick with the sharp tang of herbs and damp wool. The door was slightly ajar, and a faint orange glow spilled out into the dim corridor. He paused, his hand resting against the rough wood, listening to the muffled movements within.

She was there, alone, perched on a low stool by the hearth. Her head was bowed, a curtain of silver hair falling across her face, her shoulders trembling as she worked. The basin at her feet was darkened with blood, the water tinged red and nearly frozen again. Her hands moved in slow, mechanical strokes, dabbing a cloth over the angry cuts on her fingers. Her frostbitten toes rested in the frigid water, the skin cracked and raw, as though she didn’t feel the sting of the cold.

It was the lack of reaction that unnerved him. She worked as if her body were something apart from herself, her expression distant, eerily calm, even serene.

“Claere,” he said, his voice rough, filling the silence.

She didn’t stir. Her focus remained locked on her hands, wiping at the blood as if she could somehow erase it from sight.

“Claere,” he said again, louder this time.

Her head lifted slowly, her eyes meeting his with a hollow detachment.

The sight of her—pale, bloodied, and so utterly calm—set his teeth on edge. Anger sparked in him, but it was an anger born of fear, of guilt, of not understanding sooner. He stepped inside, the door groaning on its hinges behind him.

“Stop,” he ordered, his tone sharper than he intended.

Her gaze flicked down to her hands, and for the first time, there was a flicker of awareness in her expression. Slowly, she lowered the cloth, her fingers trembling.

He crossed the room in two long strides, calling for the maester with a bark that echoed down the hall.

When Maester Kennet arrived moments later, his face tightened at the sight of her. “Lady Stark,” he said gently, kneeling beside her. “Please, allow me.”

Cregan stood back, his arms crossed, his eyes locked on her every movement. She didn’t resist as Kennet worked, applying oils and wrapping her hands with strips of linen soaked in pungent herbs. Even as the maester’s careful fingers pressed against the frostbitten flesh, she barely flinched. Her stillness was unsettling as if she had resigned herself to pain—or worse, as if she didn’t feel it at all.

“She’ll heal,” Kennet said when he finished, rising to face Cregan. “But the cold has taken its toll. She must stay warm, my lord.”

Cregan nodded curtly. “Thank you, maester.”

The room fell silent once more, save for the crackling of the fire. Claere remained where she was, her hands now neatly bandaged, her feet swaddled in cloth. She seemed smaller somehow, sitting there in the flickering light, her head bowed as though waiting for something she knew would not come.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she said, her voice low and steady, though her gaze dropped to the basin at her feet. The words were measured, devoid of plea or softness. “It was never my intention to cause their parents grief. I misjudged the woods, the snow. The children swore they knew the way to the shrubs I needed.” Her eyes flicked briefly to the bloodied water, then back to her frostbitten toes. “They did their best.”

Cregan’s gut twisted at the sight of her—the bruised, bloodied hands, the faint tremor in her slender frame. But her tone, her words—they struck something raw in him. There was no defense, no demand for his apology. Just quiet truth, sharp and unadorned.

His grip on his emotions slipped. He’d pointed a sword at her throat, doubted her every action, accused her in his heart of monstrous things. She had borne it all without protest and still managed to save two children who weren’t hers to protect. And she had nearly frozen herself to do it.

He swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” he said at last, the words low and stiff, clawing their way out of his chest.

Her head lifted at the sound, her silver hair falling from her face. Her violet eyes found his, and for a moment, the room seemed colder. She studied him in silence as if trying to see past his words, past his name and title, straight to the marrow of the man.

“You doubted me.” Her voice was soft, but it carried a bite—a blade, not dulled by anger, but honed by a quiet certainty. It wasn’t an accusation; it didn’t need to be.

“I…” He hesitated, the truth a jagged stone lodged in his throat. The weight of what he’d assumed, of how he’d treated her, was unbearable now, standing here in this room with her bruised feet in freezing water and her bandaged hands still trembling. “I was wrong, princess.”

She tilted her head, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he thought he saw the flicker of something in her eyes—amusement, perhaps, or pity. But it was gone too quickly to name.

“Even the lord of Winterfell,” she murmured, her voice laced with quiet irony, “can be wrong.”

He stiffened at the words, but not from anger. They weren’t spoken to wound. There was no malice in her tone, just an acknowledgment of the raw, human truth that he’d been so slow to see.

Her gaze dropped again to her hands, now wrapped tightly with linen soaked in oils and herbs. She flexed her fingers experimentally, as though testing the pain, but her expression barely changed. Only her lips moved, faintly, a breath too soft for him to hear.

Cregan watched her with a churn in his chest he couldn’t name. She was still too strange, too foreign, her pale beauty both otherworldly and unsettling. But there was something else now, something gnawing at the edges of his certainty.

“You burned your shoes,” he said suddenly, his voice sharper than he intended.

She glanced at him, startled, as though she’d forgotten he was still there. “The fire wouldn’t hold in the snow,” she replied simply. “Leather burns slower than wood.”

“And the cloak?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Sewn with wool and lined with my blood,” she said, showing him her wounded palms. “It was all I had left to keep them warm.” She shrugged faintly as if such a thing were obvious.

His chest tightened. She’d used her own blood to insulate the children, to keep them warm while she bore the frost herself. He thought of the sight of her in the woods, barefoot in the snow, her skirts smeared with blood. How quickly he had drawn his blade. How sure he had been that she was a monster.

And here she was, undoing every dark thought he’d clung to with a calmness that only made him feel smaller.

“Why?” he asked, though the word felt hollow as it left his mouth.

Her brows furrowed, as though the question confused her. “Because they were cold,” she said simply, tilting her head. “And I was not.”

There was no answer to that. No apology would be enough. He stared at her, his chest heavy with something unfamiliar. Guilt, shame, and something else—a growing awareness that this woman, this strange, pale figure who unsettled him so deeply, had a strength that defied the stories whispered behind her back.

As the silence stretched between them, she turned her gaze back to the water. Her fingers brushed the surface, red streaks curling like smoke in the fading warmth. “The children,” she said, breaking the quiet. “They are safe?”

“Aye,” he managed, his voice hoarse.

She nodded once, her expression unreadable. “Good,” she said softly, as if that were the only thing that mattered.

[ I have no idea why I rejected this scene, I think I didn't explain it as well or just did not have enough evidence to support Cregan's mistrust, the description wasn't up to par, it was just all over the place, so I wrote it off. ]

X

SCENE #2 (part ii) - SOAP AND BUBBLES

Winterfell was meaner than Claere had imagined—colder than the stories ever told. The air seemed to gnaw at her, the chill seeping beneath layers of fur and silk. But it wasn’t just the weather; it was the people, the customs, their lives. Northern life was unyielding, hard as the ironwood trees that dotted the wolfswood. Mercy was a luxury the North could not afford.

Claere had begun to learn the harsh ways of her new home. She spent long hours pouring over maps in the solar, her fingers tracing the paths of rivers and trade routes. She watched with quiet vigilance, absorbing everything—how the men spoke of war and how disputes were resolved swiftly and without sentiment. She’d even resorted to mingling with the maids and stewards, overhearing their fierce remarks about her. It stung, but she endured, knowing that respect was earned here, never freely given.

Cregan noticed. He always noticed.

At first, it was the odd tilt of her head when someone spoke, the way her clothes turned to more cloaks and furs, darker shades of his own colours rather than Targaryen colours, how her lips pressed together in thought. Then it was her diligence—how she’d taken to studying the Stark family ledgers without complaint, or how she lingered longer in the courtyards, her eyes sharp and observant of the children playing. She was... different. Strange, yes. Vigilant, certainly. But hers was a quiet resilience, the kind that never stopped intriguing him.

On his fortnightly ride to White Harbor, the thought of her lingered, as it often did these days. He tried to focus on the tasks at hand—the long lists of goods to inspect, the tallies to confirm—but her image crept into the quiet moments between. The curve of her lips when she smiled, the soft cadence of her voice when she spoke of the godswood, her quiet intensity as she studied maps in the flickering firelight.

Winterfell’s larders were vast and well-stocked, but White Harbor offered treasures the North could not produce—southern goods that reminded him of her, a woman so different from the hard, unyielding stone around them.

He moved among the crates of grain, smoked fish, and wool with the practised eye of a Stark lord. Each decision he made carried the weight of his house, and his men knew better than to question his scrutiny. But when he came upon the crates of southern wares, he paused.

“What else do you have from Dorne?” he asked the merchant, his tone sharp with interest.

The man looked at him, startled, before recovering. “Fruits, spices—cinnamon, saffron, dried lemons. They fetch a high price, my lord.”

“Bring more next time,” Cregan said, his voice brooking no argument. “Fresh, if you can manage it. And anything else of quality from the capital—items meant for royals.”

The merchant nodded eagerly. “Of course, my lord. Is there anything specific you seek?”

Cregan paused, considering. “Vegetarian fare,” he said at last. “Dried herbs, cheeses, and anything light. She...” He stopped himself, feeling the weight of his men’s curious gazes. “The Lady of Winterfell has particular tastes,” he finished curtly.

It wasn’t intentional, not at first. As the goods were sorted, his gaze wandered to another stall nearby, smaller but filled with curiosities from Essos—glass beads, bolts of silk, carved wooden idols. But when he saw the little bar of soap, nestled between silks, it stopped him in his tracks. It was a lovely thing, carved with intricate patterns and scented like lilies. He turned it over in his palm, imagining her expression if he gifted it to her.

“She’ll think you’re courting her,” one of his men teased, his grin wide.

“Then let her think it,” Cregan replied gruffly, tucking the soap into his saddlebag.

When he rode back to Winterfell, the cold biting at his cheeks, the thought of her remained a quiet warmth in his chest. The blood oranges, dates, and soap nestled in his saddlebag felt like small tokens, yet they carried a significance he didn’t yet have the words to express.

In his mind, he pictured her as she might look when she found the soap—a small, private smile tugging at her lips, the kind that made the world outside Winterfell feel momentarily distant. It was a thought that stayed with him, warming him far more than the furs on his back.

x

He left the gift in her chambers that evening, no note, no ceremony. The next day, he knew she had found it. The scent of lilies wove its way through Winterfell like a secret, light and intoxicating. It clung to the cold stone, a defiance of the North’s austerity.

By the time he passed her chambers that evening, the fragrance was stronger, laced with warmth from the hearthfire within. Her door hung ajar, as it often did—a small defiance she had taken to after remarking how Winterfell’s doors seemed designed to shut out the world. Cregan paused, his hand brushing the uneven wood of the doorframe. The hinges needed mending, he noted absently, his eyes narrowing.

He meant to pull it closed. He meant to walk away. But the faint sound of water—soft, sloshing and rhythmic—stilled his hand. His instincts told him to leave, to respect her privacy. But a flicker of motion within drew his gaze like a lodestone.

Just one glance. One little peek.

Gods, this was hell. The hearthlight gilded her bare shoulders, turning her skin to honeyed gold. Steam curled lazily around her, softening the stark edges of the chamber. Her hair, a tumble of silver silk, was piled atop her head, loose strands clinging to the damp nape of her neck. She moved with an unhurried grace, her back to him, the soap he had gifted her sliding over her skin.

Cregan went immobilized, his breath caught in his throat. The soap’s lather trailed down her shoulder, gleaming against her bare arm before vanishing into the water. Her movements were deliberate, sensual without intent, a quiet intimacy that made his pulse pound. He drank in the curve of her back, the subtle lines of her ribs, the delve of her spine, the elegant slope of her neck.

She was a sight to rival the old gods themselves.

A muscle in his jaw tightened as heat flared low in his stomach, an ache sharp and sudden. She was so different here, stripped of the Northern chill and her careful composure. She was soft. Vulnerable. A creature of fire and moonlight, wholly unguarded in her private sanctuary.

For a man of the North, accustomed to restraint, this was dangerous ground. He gripped the doorframe, his knuckles whitening as he struggled against the urge to step inside, to close the door behind him, to join her—

“Lord Stark.”

The voice shattered the spell. He turned sharply, his shoulders stiff, to find one of her handmaidens standing behind him. Her gaze flickered to the open door, her expression caught between curiosity and amusement.

“The hinges,” he said gruffly, his voice lower than usual. “They need mending.”

She arched a brow, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Lady Stark prefers it that way, m'lord. She likes the air.”

Cregan forced a curt nod, stepping back and away from the door, away from the golden light and the intoxicating scent of lilies. “See to it,” he muttered, his tone clipped.

Without waiting for her response, he turned and strode toward his chambers, his steps heavy and deliberate. Once inside, he pushed the door shut with more force than necessary and leaned against it, dragging a hand down his face.

The scent still clung to him, subtle yet maddening. His hands trembled as he pressed his palms to his eyes, willing the image of her—bathed in firelight, her skin glistening, her form so achingly bare—to fade. But it didn’t. It stayed with him, carved into his mind, an unshakable temptation.

“Gods,” he muttered under his breath, sinking into the nearest chair. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath, and for the first time in years, Cregan Stark felt truly undone.

She was a storm he hadn’t anticipated, and she was far more dangerous than the winter winds ever could be.

[ I love how i deleted so many horny Cregan scenes, like I have two more of him just being a simp for his wife. lmao we love a pathetic lovey-dovey king ]

X

SCENE #3 (part iv) - BOW SHOOT

When Cregan sought her out to share the latest developments, he found her in the courtyard, not with her harp nor wandering the keep, but standing alone by the practice yard. She was a pale figure against the rough-hewn timber and frost-covered ground, a giant bow in her hands. Her eyes narrowed in quiet concentration as she drew the string back, the soft morning light catching the strands of silver in her hair.

Cregan paused by the stockades, his brow furrowing in curiosity. She was an unusual sight here, out of place among the cracked leather targets and straw dummies. Yet there was a determination in her stance, something raw and deliberate, even as the arrow she released flew wide, thudding into the frozen ground with an audible lack of grace.

She frowned, her lips tightening, but said nothing as she adjusted her grip and notched another arrow.

“Planning to shoot your way out of trouble now, princess?” Cregan called, his voice carrying over the yard. Though the words were light, his eyes lingered on her, taking in her unflinching focus.

Claere’s head turned slightly, her gaze meeting his for the briefest of moments. There was no smile, no coy remark—just that same steady resolve. “The bow was left by the yard,” she said, her tone as cool as the frost beneath their boots.

He approached, boots crunching against the frozen dirt. “And you thought to pick it up?”

“I thought to try,” she replied, not looking at him this time. Her fingers trembled slightly as she drew the string back again.

The release was awkward, the arrow wobbling and veering far from the target. Cregan sighed and stepped closer, his presence casting a long shadow over her. “A bow’s no use if you don’t know how to wield it,” he said, his tone softer now, but still tinged with amusement.

When the second shot went wide, he couldn’t help but smirk. “A bow’s no use to someone who doesn’t know how to wield it,” he said, stopping just short of her.

Her grip on the bow tightened, and for a moment, he thought she might argue. But instead, she turned her head, her gaze meeting his with that same unsettling calm. “Then show me,” she said simply.

The words hit him like a challenge, quiet but loaded with meaning. Without a word, he stepped behind her, closing the space between them until his chest was nearly flush against her back. The sharp scent of pine and leather clung to him, and she stiffened, though not out of fear.

“Here,” he murmured, his voice low as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. He adjusted her stance, his touch firm but careful, like a sculptor shaping something fragile. “Relax. You can’t shoot if you’re this tense.”

She inhaled sharply, her body responding instinctively to his nearness. His hands moved with deliberate slowness, sliding down her arms to guide her.

“You’re stiff as stone,” he chided softly, his hands sliding to her arms, steering them gently. “Let go of some of that pride. A bow doesn’t care for it.”

She inhaled sharply, her gaze fixed on the target ahead. But all she could feel was him—solid, steady, and far too close. His fingers brushed hers, calloused and warm, as he helped her notch another arrow.

“Draw slowly,” he instructed, his hot breaths against her cheek. “Feel the tension. Don’t fight it.”

Her pulse thundered as she drew the string back, the bow creaking under the strain. His hands moved over hers, steadying her grip. She could feel the rhythm of his breaths, deep and even, and unconsciously, she matched it.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, closer. She swore she felt the faintest graze of his lips against the shell of her ear, though it could have been the ghost of her imagination. “Focus. You’re not thinking about the target.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears as the bowstring thrummed under the tension. Her fingers felt too cold, her cheeks too warm, and his hands too solid, too sure as they held her steady.

“Let go, love,” he whispered, and it wasn’t just an instruction. It was a command, a promise, a challenge.

She released the string, the arrow slicing through the air. It struck the edge of the target—not perfect, but far better than before. A breathless laugh escaped her lips, surprising even herself.

“A fine attempt,” Cregan said, his voice laced with approval. But he didn’t step away. His hands lingered on hers, the rough calluses brushing against her softer skin, his touch deliberate, deliberate enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“And if I miss?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her head tilting slightly to glance at him over her shoulder. The movement brought her lips close—too close—to his.

His gaze dropped to her mouth for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable. Slowly, his fingers slid along the inside of her wrist, his touch featherlight, tracing the delicate veins beneath her skin.

“Then I’ll catch you,” he said.

The silence that followed was thick; charged. For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them—their breath mingling in the cold air, the tension crackling like the belly of a beast.

And then he stepped back, the absence of his warmth a jarring contrast to the heat still lingering on her skin.

“Try again,” he said, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still burned with something unspoken.

She turned back to the target, her movements steady, though her heart was anything but. When she drew the string again, she couldn’t help but feel his gaze on her—not just watching but waiting.

X

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[yaut-jaknowit]

So. Uihoy x Male Yautja (bottom) reader… 

(Okay maybe it’s like a bit Mr. Preg… AAHH..)

Just the reader and him not both getting mates bc it’s that time of the year, but they both hate each other so they try to make fun of one another (one of them actually secretly likes the other and you can choose who), even get into a small fight which later turns into them getting too touchy bc of the heat. Shit gets crazy, rough sex, Like absolutely DOG pounding, breeding, size difference. I’m begging.

Hate Until You're Knotted

Pairing: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x M!Yautja!Reader

Word Count: 3259

Summary: You loathe Uihoy. He's top of the chain. He can get any female he wants. You, a lowly new blooded, have to scavenge and fight for just the taste or smell of a female. What does Uihoy do with this honor? Wastes it. He comes to you, out of his way, to find you.

Author Note: Don’t worry, I also want to get railed by Uihoy too. This is before Vic and Uie met since they were in a relationship before meeting reader. Gonna be honest, I unusually don't write Yautja x Yautja stuff but fuck, I loved writing this.

Masterlist

Ao3

Heavy, thick pheromones ran rampant through the village. Clouding everyone’s judgement, turning hunt brothers against each other. All in the name of breeding, continuing the bloodline. Only the strongest survive in a world designed to maul and slaughter the weak.

Like many of your sex, you were unsuccessful of gaining the favor of a female. A young, less scared male compared to those that have bested you in spars to near death. Anything to prove their worth for a chance to breed. Here you were, nursing your wounds, away from the dense population. There were a few others, scattered about like you, licking their wounds. You had chosen a high tree to pull yourself to the near top. From here, you could keep an eye on the crowd in the main square of the village.

Neon green blood dripped from wounds gained in battle against fierce opponents. As much as you hated to admit it, they were better, deserved whoever choose them after defeating you. Yes, there’s always next year for the season but only Cetanu could only tell if you would make it. Life was life. Death was death. You don’t know if you’ll be there to greet the next season.

Through it all, you caught a whiff of a scent that caused your blood to boil. Uihoy. The older Yautja was… arrogant in his own ways. Rude in others. Downright irritating if you must say. The male wasn’t one to mess with often. He did stick out like a sore thumb. His sexuality something that wasn’t popular among the Yautja kind. It did not produce offspring.

It is not frowned upon but discouraged. Yautjas were strong, mighty, and hunters. If males or females copulated with their own sex, the birth rate would decrease. Death was already high, especially for those that are young, learning.

Not that you had anything against mating with the same sex. No. But Uihoy was an icon for the village and he wasted his talents, his seed on something that wouldn’t produce anything. You scowled. How does a male like him not take pride in breeding with the females who are willing? You have to fight for your right while many females request him by name.

The tree shook from added weight. Your claws dug into the bark from the slight disturbance. Your head whipped down to find the face you wanted to cave in so badly closing in. Your jaw dropped behind closed mandibles at the sight. What the pauk is he doing? He knows I’m up here. This was purposeful.

Uihoy stopped to perch on a branch a foot above you, on the other side of the thick tree. A look of passiveness barely readable on his face. Not cocky. He knew his limits, where he stood on the chain of power within the village. Intelligent but respectful. He was about a hundred years from being deemed an elder. A title you believed he wouldn’t take. Not with the way he moves with ease.

Blazing eyes flicked between the cuts that marred your skin. You saw the way his chest rise with a deep breath. “Don’t speak,” you snapped at him and began to close up a cut along your thigh. The deepest, longest of any others. It required to be burned closed. You held your tongue when pain stung as the laser worked.

The purple Yautja snorted airily. “And why should I listen to you?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you over a mandible while exposing his neck. Your eyes twitched at the sight before narrowing on form. The laser was forgotten about and drove off course. You snarled and turned off the damned thing. Your jaw and lower mandibles jerked at the unneeded pain. Yet, in the moment, you steel your facial expressions the best possible. Uihoy didn’t need to see you weak, weaker than he saw you as younger male.

A scoffed then light scratching from nails digging into bark filled your ears. Before you had a chance to take notice was happening, Uihoy hopped over onto your branch and knelt next to you. Uihoy snatched the laser from your hands. “Youngling, you must pay attention or else you risk injuring yourself more,” he scolded and began to work on the rest of the wound.

If you didn’t want the laser to stray from its path, you willed yourself not to jerk away from him. His touch was prominently warm on your thigh. The hand not holding the welder was resting right above the wound, close to the apex of your legs.

Instantly, you blamed the scents that filled the air for the feeling growing in your stomach, for the way your cock roused in its sheath. It was the pheromones that clouded your judgment. Your jaw was locked, throat closed to stop any sounds from escaping.

Then, his hand shifted higher. You had enough.

You shoved the bigger Yautja away from you then your feet were underneath you. A glare settled on Uihoy, ready pounce if it came to it.

Uihoy nearly slipped off of the branch he was perched on but easily corrected the unbalance. He stood a fair distance away from you with a large grin on his face, tongue flickering out to smell the air. C’jit. His head lowered just enough he stared from underneath his brows. C’jit.

A drop of freezing water dripped down the length of your spine, then Uihoy sprung. The older Yautja could move. Fast. Faster than you were expecting. His body slammed into yours. Claws dug into your shoulders as his weight throw you backwards. Off the edge of branch and heading towards the ground closing in quickly.

To save yourself from pain of a mild fall, you twisted your body and latched onto the nearest branch. Your shoulder jarred, nearly pulling out of the socket at the weight of not only you but Uihoy gripping onto you as well. You release a snarl and kicked out a knee at Uihoy. The male grunted yet took the hit. His talons dug into the flesh of your shoulders, deeper and drawing rivets of blood. You growled and attempted to throw him off. Your one handed grip was weakening.

Your other hand latched onto thick bark as you held on. The purple Yautja snickered and lifted himself up enough to hold onto the same branch. This was your opportunity to kick him, using his body as a spring board and land on another branch further down. The leaves rattled at your landing. You lowered yourself into a ready position as Uihoy lifted himself and crouched as well.

Cocky but not, Uihoy held an aura of confidence around him. His body was lax enough to let his guard down. He did have the high ground and left you at a disadvantage. You didn’t let him take any opportunities to attack though.

The trunk of the tree was used as a foothold to launched yourself high up, above Uihoy. His eyes watched your actions, body moving into a position to take anything you served.

The first punch of the day was thrown, right at Uihoy’s beautiful face; ready to send him flying off of the tree. But the male ducked and counterstruck with a fist straight to your stomach. It almost sent you careening off the edge once more. Your claws dug in to steady yourself once more.

He eyed you up and down, scanning for points of weaknesses. The same thing you returned for the shy moment given to the two of you before the giants clashed again. He came at you this time with claws. The skimmed acrossed your chest, drawing trickles of blood down your sweaty skin. You couldn’t help the keen before returning the same fire at him.

Unlike the purple Yautja, you weren’t as lucky to draw blood. Uihoy was pushing hard, fast, throwing things you hadn’t even trained about at you. At points, it was dizzying. Now, you were just trying not to fall off or perish to him. He had every right to do so. It wasn’t against the code.

Your foot takes a step back but the way the branch dips means this was the end. Anymore and you could meet the ground harshly. When Uihoy takes a swing at your face, you lower yourself down to a crouch. The fist flies milliseconds later over your head. You spring and pushed with all of your force backwards.

Midair, you arch your back and force all of your weight over yourself. Then, your feet touch down on a branch on a different tree. It wavers at the sudden, new weight added to it but held strong enough for you to back up away from the oncoming purple Yautja.

From one branch to other trees, the two of you dance for what felt like hours. Possibly could’ve been. You only come to release the overwhelming scent from the mating grounds is faint when Uihoy pins you to the trunk of a tree. A grunt surpasses your throat, eyes clued onto his burning ones. Filled with fire. A fire you didn’t know what sourced from.

A firm hand had found its way to your throat, encasing it and keeping you to the trunk. Instantly, your body went lax. Uihoy could snap your neck before you had a chance to even raise a hand.

It was a stern, mighty gasp that held you. Yet, you didn’t fear it. Anger filled your veins at the fact this pauk-de was taunting, teasing you like prey. You had little chance to win against. It was idiotic to challenge him in the first place. It won’t cost you your life. Not while that fire blazed in his orange eyes.

The male leaned in and let his breath fan over your features, eyes blinking slowly. Your scales prickled. His tongue flickered out and tasted upon your skin. His hand tightened. The other palmed along your hip, nails creating divots in the flesh there. “There has been something about that has intrigued me since I first laid eyes upon you,” Uihoy chitters lowly next to your ear. You shivered, throat bobbing from a heavy swallow.

That’s when you smelt it. Heavy, thick in the air yet sweet to draw you in. N’dui’se. You felt the blood in your body screeching to a halt and immediately rushing towards your core. Unsure, uncontrolled, your own musk entered the air. It swirled, combed with Uihoy’s as the Yautja grunt and pressed harder on your hip.

All of your muscles strained into action to pin the male down. Uihoy locked his own down and kept you there. The claws attacked to the hand around a vital part of your being dug into flesh. He released a chest rumbling bellow of a warning. He had you. You could only watch as the male leaned back enough to find your eyes.

The other limb skimmed down just a couple of inches then grabbed a fistful of cloth. Your waistband was promptly ripped off in one go and absentmindedly tossed to the side. Before you could even squeak something pathetic, warm flesh palmed at the wetting slit close to the apex of your thighs. Your head was thrown back, exposing your neck to the male before you. An action that could cost you your life if it was anyone else. Uihoy attacked.

Sharp, lethal teeth latched onto the flesh of your throat. Just enough pressure to warn you who had the cards in hand. Uihoy purred pleased and let his upper hand fall away rest on your hip. The other kept working away, causing more slick to build up.

His touch was driving you wild. He knew it. He was doing it on purpose. Your mandibles gritted together at the bubbling rage at him. Like a volcano with molten rock rising to the surface, ready to blow when the time was right. And you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of coaxing your cock out.

Gathering all of your energy, you shoved at Uihoy with everything you had. For once, you believed to caught the male off guard as he stumbled back, adding a fair amount of distance.

How wrong you were.

He was back on you in a split-second. Hands. Claws. Teeth. All seared across your scales until you were forced onto your front on the branch. Uihoy’s heavy weight draped over your back like shadows swallowing you whole. It was enough to keep you underneath him. A roaring bellow sounded from the Yautja as he made his claim vocal. “Ze-rei.” Fire. “You have fire that I want to consume.”

Despite Uihoy pinning you to the branch, you still wiggled and struggled. It wasn’t enough to throw the male off though.

All movements stopped at the feel of something blazing and wet resting against the tight ring of muscles behind your sack. Your eyes jerked wide open, head yanked up at the feeling. The head of your cock speared through your slit but didn’t move an inch more.

The body on top of you sat up. Hands grabbed at globes of your cheeks and spread them as far as possible. You squirmed this time uncomfortably at the fact he was putting you on display for him. Your claws dug into the bark underneath. “This is my new favorite sight,” Uihoy mumbled lowly to himself, a wide grin marking his face.

Then, the tip speared into you. Pain rocketed inside of you, eyes rolling back into their sockets at the feeling. Your mandibles flared open in a silent cry. But… you pushed back on Uihoy. More of his shaft disappeared inside of you, even if it was only an inch. Uihoy took the signal and thrusted his hips flush with your thighs.

Uihoy’s weight nearly collapsed on top of you as he struggled to stay upright. Something you never thought to see from the older Yautja. He tensed his muscles, talons prickling the skin along your cheeks and lower back. “I lied… this, this is my new favorite sight,” he growled before drawing his hips back.

The drag of each ridge and bump on the sides of his thick cock had you seeing stars already. All the way until just the tip was snug inside. Without warning, he forced his length back into you. The strength behind the thrust had you scrapping forward.

A low groan vibrated along Uihoy’s spine. “You’re so tight,” he stated like it was a fact. It was to be honest. You’ve never ventured outside to learn more about yourself. But after just the tiny taste, the littlest of drop from this, you’ll never be satisfied. “You’re going keep squeezing me out.” Uihoy bent at the waist. “Relax.” A hand placed next to your head while the other kept an even pressure on your shoulder blade. “I don’t know if you can even take my knot.”

Bark groaned as claws raked across the layer. You fantasized the thought of knotting another but never being knotted yourself. That ignited a hunger you never knew existed inside of you.

Fingers and claws ghosted down the length of your spine then diverted where your hip meets your thigh. Uihoy started a beginning pace to warm you up, to loosen up the muscles locked. Heat flared at the base of your spine as his touch palmed at the space below your slit. Your cock still barely peaking out. You weren’t going to give in easily. He had to take what he wanted.

The limb next to your head prevented you from slipping away from him, trapped under his thick body. His movements increased with speed but more importantly: harshness. Like any other male in the season, he was losing himself. His control slipping right of his fingers. There wasn’t a single thing he could do to stop it.

Thick finger grasped at what peaked out from between your legs. You gasped and rutted into the hand before a dark snarl had you stopping. The digits moved down where two rested apart from each other. They were in the space between your sack and slit, on either side of where your straining cock resided still inside of you. Uncomfortably. Very uncomfortably.

A single roll of his fingertips had you seeing stars. The rest of your length shot out like a plasma shot that it hurt at out fast it unsheathed. You choked out a harsh gasp and jerked back into the male controlling you. His hips went flush with yours while your muscles locked tight around his shaft. Uihoy roared. A hand flying to your hip while his claws dug into your flesh.

“Pauk!” he snarled into the tense air.

Something shifted in the air. You didn’t know what but could feel something change.

Uihoy reared his hips back just until the tip just sat inside. Without remorse, he bullied it back into you. This new pace was harsh, rough, uncaring. He was dominating you; taking what he wants and not caring about anything else. The only thing keeping you from sliding off the branch was the limb next to your head and his claws piercing your skin.

Your own talons dug into the bark, clawing away at the trees barrier for purchase. His thrusts are a driving force to reckon with. The ridges along his cock adding to the friction that winds you up. Pleasure growing at a rate you couldn’t fight, couldn’t stop if you wanted it.

His thick waist started to stutter, pace growing wary. The claws tearing into your flesh, drawing blood were pulled out. The pain in their wake was brushed off.

Between your trembling legs, your cock was painfully hard, weeping from the tip. As desperately as you wanted to reach underneath and touch yourself, Uihoy beat you to the punch.

A firm grip wrapped around your shaft. The pressure sent your eyes rolling into the back of your head, hips faltering on either to drive back or forward. Drool hung from your jaw. You were an utter mess of pre-cum, drool, and blood.

The grasp slipped down to your growing knot and squeezed. A vice grip. Stars exploded in your vision. You shattered like glass. Your cocked twitching wildly at each new pump of sperm staining the tree. His hand never relenting the pressure even as the overstimulation began to hurt.

He switched his other arm to wrap firmly around your torso and kept you flush to him. Snarls, growls, bellows poured from the male’s throat before he keened a high pitch. His hips slapped to yours. A pleasurable pain sprouted to life as you felt his knot inflate inside of you. The feeling completely foreign to you. You grunted and squirmed.

Uihoy snarled at you in warning. In reaction, you growled back at him.

Sharp teeth punctured the muscle that corded your shoulder. You choked on a gasped and went ridged underneath him. He had made his point and untangled his fangs from you. The Yautja leaned up, all he could do while tied to you.

“Look at that. You were able to take my knot,” he snarked down at you. You huffed. The energy once in your body was depleted for the moment. Yet, you could already feel your core filling the same need as before.

Pleasure shot through you like a plasma shot when his hand tugged at your sensitive cock. You bucked back at Uihoy to stop but the grip tightened. C’jit. And you were at his mercy.

[marymary-diva17]

The life we once had with you (2)

rooms x reader + spider

The past had come back into your the life you had made here, after sixteen years they are finally back in your lives. They were no longer the same people you remember, as they had dramatically changed over the times of being apart.

Spider “ come one slow pokes I know you can move faster then that, or has been being dead for sixteen years made you all weak”

y/n “ spider don’t do anything stupid”

spider “ yes mom”

Quaritch “ wow our kid is something special is he always like this”

y/n “ yes he had spent sixteen years here, of course he will be like this”

Lyle “ I can’t believe we are getting a show up by our kid”

Z dog “ I have to agree this kid is showing us up”

y/n “ no he is showing you all up now come on let’s see, if you are still the mighty soldiers” you soon took off climbing a tree and following after spider.

y/n " come on soliders are you coming or are you going to stand there like skxwangs" you had let out a laugh which had been followed by laughter from spider.

quairtch " well come on lets get going" the recoms soon nodded their heads and soon climbed the trees trying to caught up with you and the kid, but they soon realized you and spider had become natural to this whole thing.

spider " come on slow pokes I know you all can do better"

prager " that is definitely your son colonel"

quairtch " yes I know junior is doing well"

spider " hey old man no junior here the name is spider love it"

y/n " spider" spider soon laugh before he had taken off once again into the forest.

lopez " I swear what do you feed him why does he have so much energy in him"

y/n " well first of all he a teen and second of he a navi teen they are always like his, and heck this is his personality"

Z-dog " so he was born navi after you transferred in your avatar body"

y/n " yes I found out I was pregnant with him days after the battle, and no expected him to come out as navi and blue but we are here now"

mansk " you have done well to raise him well and fine young man"

y/n " thank you"

????? " mom"

recoms " ahhh" spider was soon seen handing down off a tree branch as he looked at the group of adults.

Z dog " kid how the heck did you get back here you were gone"

spider " got you all man you all should of seen the looks on your faces"

y/n " down"

spider " yes ma'am"

quairtch " well it good to know you have some request for the adults, we will need to work on that"

spider " we will see about that"

y/n " no fighting come on you all need to get you bodies ready, for your new lives here and then we can see if you all can fly"

recoms " fly"

lyle " like those creatures we had seen"

y/n " yes now come" you had soon started walking away as the recoms and spider look at each other, there was no lying spider is your son he acted like you. He did also look like quairtch as well but it was easy to say the boy had taken after you.

y/n " hey are you all coming or no"

spider "coming mom"

hours later

quaritch " so why have you and the kids have made us climb all the way here"

spider ' easy to see if you all can fly we can't keep to the ground forever"

Z dog " wait so we are getting Ikran"

y/n " yes and meeting some friends of ours as well" you had made a call way you are looking up at the sky, and soon enough spider had made the call as well. Soon two ikran had came landing onto the ground near the group.

y/n " this is my ikran I have named her freya”

mansk “ wow she beautiful”

y/n “ thank you”

Lyle “ what about yours kids”

spider “ his name is sora I think cool name and, he seemed to like it right buddy” sora had nodded his head.

y/n “ you all will bond with one of this wild ikran and soon take flight, but you all most know the ikran will have to choice you not the other way around”

Lopez “ oh great that sounds like fun”

y/n “ are you all up for the challenge or no”

Quaritch “ we never back down from a challenge love” the recoms had nodded their heads in agreement as you laugh.

spider " well see you in the skies" spider soon jumped off the cliff making everyone rush towards the edge, as his ikran soon took off and caught him.

y/n " I swear that boy plan in giving me heart attacks all the time, he does something dangers"

quaritch " like his mother I can see"

y/n " he more love you now go on your first to of colonel" quairtch soon nodded his head, as he soon went first to tame his ikran spider was watching for afar.

y/n " quaritch" you had soon him going down as panic sent in as you are worried about him and the others, he soon came back up flying on the ikran. Soon everyone starts cheering for him as he flew around them.

y/n " oh eywa give me strength" The rest of the recoms soon went to get thier ikrans, it had gone well for them all. The group had soon went flying for a bit, to get the team use to flying their ikrans and making a bond as well. They had soon made camp that night and everything was going well.

lyle " this has been a good day"

y/n " yes it has it seems like you all become use to looking like navi"

quaritch " we are still soldiers love we still have a duty to the rda"

y/n " for once forget the rda and live your own lives they are using you all, once again and will toss you aside once they get what they need"

Z dog " your right she right guys we all know that"

quaritch " what are we going to do now the rda has been our whole life here"

spider " they were your past lives now you have new lives here so live them. not everyone is given other chance in life"

y/n " my son speaking the truth it all up for your to decide live the new life or be the puppets for the rda once again, but know this I will not like any harm come to my son or my nieces and nephews ... along with many others ..... so I will use some words that you all told me many years ago pick your side us or them" they night everything had become silent, as everyone was thinking about the words you told them. There was much time of reflection and inner healing for everyone.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 23 You’re an Angel, I’m a dog

Chapter 23 of Sugar

A/N- WAIT WAIT— “I’ll never be a son.” And “I’ll never be his favorite son.” Fits Choso and mc to a tea especially in this chapter!!!

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF, spoilers, NFSW? Not really though it’s light, talks of miscarriage, SLOW BURN, heavy pining, long chapter

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- Chapters 145 & 146, and the beginning portion of 203 & 207, of the Manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

This is Tengen? This tall pale thing?

You always imagined they’d be more majestic looking considering how old they are and the responsibility they hold, but they look more like a pale four-eyed alien.

“Aren’t you gonna say hello to me Tengen?” Yuki remarks after she was left out of his sudden greeting.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met Yuki Tsukumo.” They finally address her and they sound annoyed. “Why did you close off the tombs of the Star Corridor? I was afraid you might be in alignment with Kenjaku. After all, I cannot see into the human heart.”

Kenjaku? Who the hell is Kenjaku?

“Kenjaku?” You probe and slide your hands off Choso’s arms now that your fear has subsided.

“The sorcerer who was Noritoshi Kamo and is now inhabiting the body of Suguru Geto,” Tengen shares.

“That name suggests compassion and salvation. Gimme a break,” Yuki snaps.

“Master Tengen, why do you look like that?” Itadori suddenly interrupts, making your eyes widen with bewilderment.

“Itadori,” you scold.

“What?” He asks you over his shoulder as if that question isn’t obviously rude to ask someone.

“You can’t ask someone that,” you whisper sharply. “Even if they are centuries old. You can’t ask that.”

“I was just curious.”

“I may be immortal,” Tengen cuts in, making both Itadori and you look forward, but that was a mistake considering they tug on a creepy-looking smile. “But I'm not immune to aging. After 500 years, you’d look like this too.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust and mentally groan.

You’d rather die than look like that.

“Eleven years ago, after failing to merge with a Star Plasma Vessel.”

“Riko Amanai,” you cut in bitterly, making all eyes fall on you, including all four of Tengen’s—“considering she died trying to get to you, why don’t you have the decency to actually say her name.”

Tengen looks into your eyes, and no matter how intimidating they actually look, you don’t falter, you challenge them and stand by your ground.

“Riko Amanai,” they give in. “After I failed to merge with her my aging accelerated and my self-awareness as an individual diminished. The very world became myself.”

“And that’s why your “voice” doesn’t proliferate,” Yuki adds before Fushiguro raises his hand and politely interjects.

“Excuse me, but…”

“We came to ask about Kenjaku’s objectives,” Okkotsu continues for Fushiguro. “And how to open the prison realm. Will you tell us what you know?”

Your face drops the annoyed hardened expression and paints on a hopeful one as you wait for a solution to your brother's predicament.

“I wish I could simply say yes,” Tengen crushes your hopes. “But there is one condition. Yuta Okkotsu, Yuki Tsukumo, Y/N Gojo…”

Huh?

“…and the Death Painting Womb. Three of you must remain here to serve as my guards.”

You roll your eyes and press your hands on your hips as your annoyance returns.

For someone so mighty they still surely sound human.

And why do they need guards?

“Guards? Aren’t you immortal?” Okkotsu steals the words out of your mind.

“Are you worried about the seal?” Maki chimes in.

“No fair!” Yuki whines. “You haven’t even told us why or for how long we’d have to do it!”

“So then shall I speak of Kenjaku?” Tengen ignores Yuki and everyone else. “His objective is to force the evolution of all human beings throughout the land of Japan.

You nod. “Yeah, yeah, he yapped on about that,” you interject. “We want to know exactly what he intends. Why didn’t he use your barrier that time and turn everyone in Japan into sorcerers via Idle transfiguration?”

“He lacks the cursed energy to do that,” Tengen says. “Cursed energy that has been refined through Uzumaki cannot return to the sorcerer...”

Well, you knew that because of Suguru. You just thought Kenjaku would be different considering he’s old and he has the technique to jump into others’ bodies.

“…triggering an evolution in each individual with a cursed technique is incredibly inefficient. The method of evolution that Kenjaku has chosen is the merging of humankind and me.”

Is that…even possible?

“Is that even possible?” Itadori voices your same concern but in a much louder way.

“Isn’t that impossible for anyone but a Star Plasma vessel?” Fushiguro mutters his question.

“Yes,” Tengen nods. “The way I was before, but now that I have evolved for the past 11 years it would not be impossible for me to merge with someone other than a Star Plasma Vessel.”

Then they should have probably tried to protect Amanai more.

“But you’re only one person right?” Choso asks. “How could you merge with multiple people?”

“I am not what you see before you at the moment,” Tengen explains, making your eyebrows knot with confusion. “My evolved soul exists all around us. As I said, my self is now the world itself. A human who merges with me transforms into something greater than a sorcerer, as a new being that is both there and not there. I posses barrier techniques so I am able to maintain this form and self-control even after evolving. However,” they input. “If humankind evolves, and even if only one person rages out of control the world will end.”

You swallow thickly out of discomfort and shift your stance.

“Why?” Yuki inquiries.

“There would be no boundaries between individuals,” Tengen says. “So evil would spread instantaneously. The impurity of a hundred million people would flood the world. What just happened to Tokyo would happen to the entire world.”

“Why would Kenjaku do that?” You ask for the curious group.

Tengen shrugs stiffly. “I do not know. As I said, I cannot read the human heart.”

Hm.

“So why don’t you just refuse to merge?” Maki asks something that should be simple to solve. Tengen wouldn't be needing guards if it was that simple.

“That is the problem,” Tengen proves you right. “Now that I have evolved I am more cursed spirit than human being. That makes me a target for cursed spirit manipulation.”

You gasp in disbelief and your world then falls silent, and all you can think about is if Miguel was right.

“Considering Kenjaku’s ability as a sorcerer he might be able to seize me the moment we encounter each other,” Tengen continues. “That is why my main body is rejecting everything at the tombs of the star corridor.”

Was it your fault? All this? All because you couldn’t even look at his body after he died?

“And the reason you want guards, right?” Okkotsu asks, making Tengen nod in agreement.

“Yes. Kenjaku is the second-most powerful barrier user after me. I don’t know when he will undo the seal of the tombs.”

Tengen surely fails to answer a lot of questions.

“Why now?” You step forward to ask with growing concern. “Kenjaku prevented a merging with a Star Plasma Vessel and forced your evolution, and wants to consume and control you through cursed manipulation.”

“Apparently he was also involved with Sukuna,” Yuki bounces in. “So he’s been a sorcerer for at least 1,000 years, so why now?”

“I,” Tengen points at their chest. “The Star Plasma Vessel, and the Six Eyes, are all connected by fate.”

You blink and slowly your confusion is replaced by disbelief while realization slowly seeps through.

“In the past, Kenjaku has twice lost to sorcerers of the Six Eyes. The second time, he took no chances and killed the Star Plasma Vessel and Six Eyes less than one month after they were born. Nonetheless, on the day of merging, the Six Eyes and Star Plasma Vessel appeared.”

“Which is why he sealed my brother away, I assume,” you interject with your thoughts.

“Yes, after that Kenjaku switched to sealing instead of eradicating the Six Eyes and began searching for the Prison Realm,” Tengen shares nonchalantly. “Because two bearers of the Six Eyes cannot appear at the same time.”

Hm. Well, thank the stars for that.

“But then the unexpected happened 11 years ago when Toji Zen’in intervened. He was physically gifted through heavenly restriction and on top of that he was an anomaly who had escaped from cursed energy.”

You try not to but you steal a glance at the son of Toji Zen’in, whom doesn’t know thanks to your brother's lack of sharing. It explains his lack of reaction now too because of it.

It sucks! You need him to know already!

“As a human being who had escaped fate through the power of restriction, he destroyed our destinies,” Tengen goes on. “Then came along a boy with cursed manipulation.”

You drop your eyes and frown sadly at the ground.

“Suddenly all the pieces had come together except for the prison realm. Then even that fell into his hands six years ago.”

Almost like fate. Cruel fate.

“So why is the Culling Games happening?” Fushiguro asks, a bit distressed.

“It is like breaking the body prior to merging,” Tengen tells all of you. “It is not impossible to merge with someone other than a star plasma vessel but is highly unlikely and would be incomplete at present. The Culling Games uses the players’ cursed energy and the boundaries binding barriers in a ritual for conveying the human beings of the country to the other side. Through that custom, he will begin the merging with me. However, in order to perform such ritual, Kenjaku has undertaken certain binding vows.”

You know your answer to Tengen’s previous request now. It’s costly for you because you don’t want to be stuck and play a waiting game, but with Okkotsu here, now you can focus on getting Satoru out. So you drown out what they have to say about the Culling Games. If you have to somehow participate in them then you’ll ask for the rules and conditions then.

All that truly matters about them is that the games will continue until every player is dead or until they all refuse to play and die, and that killing Kenjaku won’t stop the games; so that plan is diminished.

You only bring your attention back when Tengen cuts Itadori off to get the answer out of who will stay

“I will stay,” Yuki, Choso, and you volunteer at the same time, making you happy that you don’t have to be stuck with Okkotsu, and that you’ll spend more time with Choso….and Yuki!

You shouldn’t be so enthusiastic, you have your protests after all, but your heart can’t help but jump.

“Yuji, you absolutely need Okkotsu’s or this woman’s cooperation,” Choso interjects seriously so Itadori can understand his brotherly concern. “Especially if Noritoshi Kamo—if Kenjaku comes for Tengen. Ending his life means salvation for my little brothers.”

“And rest for Suguru’s body,” you input your decision, gaining the attention of the room. “So I’ll stay here to help kill Kenjaku, and get the answer on how to get Satoru out.”

“And I’m not done talking to Tengen,” Yuki shares her reasoning for staying. “Is that all right, Okkotsu?”

Okkotsu nods and his eyes almost gleam with relief and joy. “Yeah! I don’t want to leave the others.”

You focus your eyes on Okkotsu and squint slightly before you interject in a menacing voice. “Okkotsu, you help Itadori, understand? Keep the promise you made to my brother.”

Okkotsu eyes quickly find you and his relief and excitement are quick to fall and be replaced by discomfort and nerves.

“Y-yes ma'am,” he quickly assures you, causing you to scoff and then look away to avoid looking at him more than you have to.

“Thank you,” Tengen once again speaks as they begin to reach in a black portal. “This…” they trail off and pull out a dull-looking box with a stitch on one side. “…is necessary for freeing Satoru Gojo.”

You perk up and slowly fill with hope and relief.

“It is the back of the Prison Realm.”

You blink and shift your gaze back to Tengen. “Back?” You question.

“I’ve never heard of that,” Yuki muses.

“You mean like a back gate?” Itadori is finally the first to understand something instead of being the first one to probe.

“Yes, that is right,” Tengen agrees as he keeps the back gate in their large hand. “Before Kenjaku found it, the prison realm was outside my barrier. I believe it was overseas. By sealing this rear gate, I was hiding the existence of the “front”, but it was no use. Satoru Gojo Is also sealed inside the rear gate.”

“Then if we open it can we—”

“No,” Tengen breaks Itadori’s hopes. “The authority to open the gate rests with Kenjaku as the bearer of the “front”.”

Which gives you more reason to stay!

“Breaking it open requires either the inverted spear of Heaven that nullifies cursed techniques or the black rope that disrupts and cancels cursed technique effects.”

The back rope? Miguel’s destroyed black rope?

“But Satoru Gojo sealed the inverted spear of heaven overseas 11 years ago…or destroyed it! Why’d you do that Gojo!” Itadori exclaims and Fushiguro follows to do the same.

“And last year Satoru Gojo got rid of all the black rope! Why’d that guy do that?!”

Okkotsu laughs nervously and you bring your hand up to bite the tip of your manicured nail since you can’t smoke inside.

“Miguel went to Africa in search of more black rope,” you share with the group. “But he found none…isn’t that right, Okkotsu?”

Okkotsu nods. “Yes, it was a fruitless effort.”

You groan and snap your gaze to Tengen. “But there is a way? Right?”

“Yes,” Tengen lets you sigh with relief. “Among the players participating in the Culling Games is a sorcerer from a thousand years ago who calls herself Angel. Her cursed technique can extinguish any cursed energy.”

“She can extinguish cursed techniques?” Fushiguro questions.

“Yes,” Tengen reinstates. “The Angel’s cursed technique can open the “back” of the prison realm.”

“Do you know where she is?” You ask.

“The colony in the east side of Tokyo,” Tengen surprises you by saying, it seems they tend to not know a lot of important answers. “The game barriers reject me, so I don’t have any more information,” he finishes as he puts the back gate back in their portal, leaving Satoru out of arm's reach.

Yeah, you can’t get him out without the sorcerer and her technique, but you were comforted by the fact that he was close, that you could see a part of his prison, but he’s gone again. And so your worry regrows.

Choso seems to notice your disappointment and very gently pats your shoulder.

His gesture surprises you considering you’re the only one who’s given physical touch, but you welcome his comforting touch and thank him with a small but sweet smile as Tengen starts to give more information on the Culling Games. Something you probably won’t participate in because you’ll be here, so you hardly listen.

You know that if you enter a certain colony you’ll be added as a player, players get points by killing other players, and if that player's points remain the same then they could lose their technique. That's all you really gather as your mind goes back to Suguru and your impossible choice.

Guilt begins to bloom where there wasn’t any, while Miguel’s words echo in your mind.

“And you were supposed to cremate Geto’s body,”

If you had picked his body off the ground before you left, all this could have been avoided. All these problems and these outcomes would have not existed if you had given him a proper funeral. But you got swept up in your emotions and left him there.

He would’ve taken your body, Miguel was right about that too, but you couldn’t do the same. Now this is all your fault…your parents…were right…you are a weak link.

“Y/N, Yuki, and Choso will remain here to guard Master Tengen,” Maki snaps your attention back to the room. “I will return to the Zen’in clan and collect cursed tools. Soon after Satoru Gojo was sealed the Kamo and Zen’in clans cleaned out Jujutsu High's cursed warehouse. But Megumi is now the Zen’in clan's leader.”

“What?!” Itadori exclaims.

“I’ll explain later,” Fushiguro mutters to his friend.

“Thanks to that, it’s possible to search the Zen’in warehouse at length, but first, Master Tengen?”

You look between the two completely lost on what’s going on.

“Understood,” Tengen interjects. “Juzo Kumiya’s workshop right?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with Itadori?” You ask Choso as the kids discuss their plans. “Yuki and I can handle your father.”

Choso looks over at you at his side and responds. “I have to be the one to kill my father for what he’s done to my brothers. It's the only way they can be at peace. You,” he redirects. “Your people don’t need you? You’ve been gone from home for a while. And your daughter, will she be okay?”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smile as you hear his concern. “Yes, my people will be fine, I trust the people that are in charge, and Satori will be fine where she is,” you let him know. “We’ll just have to miss each other for a bit longer, but this is for the greater or good.” You sigh deeply.

“Hm, she’ll understand,” he tries to assure you.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I hope.” You swallow thickly.

“Yeah, you guys go to Kinji as planned,” you hear Maki direct at Fushiguro, making you drift your attention back to the group of kids.

“Kinji?” Itadori asks for a person he could’ve met but didn’t because he was in his room the entire day.

“Kinji Hakari, a suspended third year,” Okkotsu lets Itadori know.

“Anyway we’re short-handed,” Maki adds. “So we got to rope in whoever we can.”

“Is that guy tough?” Itadori returns to the conversation about Hakari even after Maki tried to end it.

“Well,” you give your opinion. “He’s moody.”

Itadori slowly churns his head and looks at you with wide curious eyes. “You know him too?” He asks.

Choso and you share a teasing look, and then you nod. “Yes, he went to the house on the first. Not that you would know...”

“You were locked in your room,” Choso finishes your sentence.

Itadori narrows his gaze and looks between Choso and you as if trying to figure out what the two of you are getting at with your in-sync conversation.

“When he’s worked up, he’s stronger than I am.” Okkotsu shares, but he’s quickly turned down by Maki’s sly comment.

“That’s not true.”

You’d tell Itadori and Fushiguro to tell Hakari and Kirara that you sent them, even if you didn’t, but that advice wouldn’t be much help. So you just keep that to yourself and instead share something else that can help. “Hakari and Kirara are in an abandoned multistory parking lot in the Tochigi prefecture. He’s making money by becoming a bookmaker for gambling matches.”

“Gambling matches?” Itadori cuts in confused.

You nod with a proud smirk tugging on your lips. “Fights between sorcerers.”

Itadori’s eyebrows only furrow deeper. “What? That’s crazy. How do you know?”

“I’m his and Kirara's mentor. And when it comes to the fights I helped them finance the club.”

“Hm, so you’re like the Godmother?” He says without need for explanation which makes you excited.

“Yes!”

Itadori’s jaw drops and he leans over. “Do you fight?”

You grin and show off. “I’m their jackpot, honey.”

You don’t fight often, you’ve only fought a couple of times, but when you do fight you use your family name so there's always an anticipating crowd and a lot of money.

“The spectators are…” Fushiguro trails off for you to finish.

“Basically non-sorcerers.”

Both he and Itadori look at you shocked.

“Doesn’t that severely infringe upon the Jujutsu rules article 8, which is to keep confidentiality?”

You scoff and quip, “so what?”

Fushiguro and Maki both look at you with annoyance and they both mutter, “she’s just like her brother.”

Ew.

You scrunch your nose in disgust at their comparison, but you don’t say anything, you just give Fushiguro and Itadori one warning. “Among the participants of the gambling matches are some curse users, so be careful.”

Itadori is quick to nod and assure you. “Got it!”

You smile at him and Fushiguro and say your goodbye. “Take care of each other, hm?”

Fushiguro spares you a glance and gives you a stiff nod before he turns to leave with the other two, whilst Itadori gives you a thumbs up and follows the others out.

Albeit he then turns and calls out, “Choso!”

You look at said man with excitement for him, and he rightfully looks surprised by the call of his name from his little brother, but he’s quick to interject sweetly and with a charming grin. “Don’t die, okay?”

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Itadori says before he throws Choso a wave, causing the nonchalant man to cover his face with his hand right away and sniffle?

Is he crying?

You give him all your attention and confirm your suspicion right away when you see his shoulders shake, and a tear slip past his large palm.

Yuki sees the same thing but she looks confused, whereas you can’t help but smile in admiration.

“Are you crying?” Yuki probes.

Choso waves her off, and you giggle and pat his shoulder to share your pride for the development with his brother.

“Oh, you could die happy now couldn't you, Cho?” You tease him as you lean your head over his shoulder.

He sniffles. “Just about.”

You chuckle and give his shoulder a squeeze.

At the feeling of your touch, he pulls his hand off his face and looks back at you with a watery gaze. “Can you believe it?”

You flash him a grin and nod. “I saw it. I’m sorry I couldn’t take a picture or a video. But there’ll be more times.”

“You think so?” He shares his doubts.

You nod. “I know it.”

His lips tug on a small smile and he nods in comprehension as he feels comforted by your reassurance.

Silence fills the room after that and welcomes an awkward tension. Not between Choso and you, or Yuki, Choso, and you, but between the three of you and Tengen.

“So,” Yuki rolls out. “Now what?”

“Where are we going to stay?” You ask as you look around at the white nothingness. “And what are we going to eat?”

Tengen sighs as if they're already over Yuki and you. “I have everything you need here,” they mutter.

“Hm. Okay.”

Well, this should be an interesting time…

——

*A FEW YEARS BACK*

“Oh, oh,” you exclaim and snap your eyes open to sit up—or try, you really strain yourself to sit up. “What about Cursed manipulation?” You muse softly.

Suguru slowly blinks his eyes open and sighs before he lolls his head to the side to look at you through the darkness of your room. “No,” he gently turns you down.

You pout and press your hand on his toned bare chest to lean closer. “Why not? That way you won’t feel so lonely with your technique. That way you can teach our child about your technique,” you argue your point.

A touched smile tugs on his lips and his eyes fill with love. “Baby,” Suguru coos. “I don’t want our child to share that burden. Having me carry that technique with me is enough. You know that.”

You drop your eyes on the beauty mark on his chest and gently trace it with your finger. “I know,” you whisper. “But I know how much you dislike your technique, and maybe a part of it is because no one understands. Having our girl have your technique will give you someone to bond with, a reason for your technique not to be such a pest.” You try to make him see the bright side you’re trying to let in.

But all Suguru sees is a more threatening darkness, and he doesn’t want his child to be cast with such an isolating and draining burden.

“What about,” Suguru rolls out as he slides his big and soft hand over your smaller one. “If she has your technique? Your technique is fun. A lot easier.”

You laugh softly and rid of all the lurking shadows Suguru saw crawling in his corner with a simple look in your eyes.

“It would be fun,” you go along with him as he pulls your hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“Come here,” he reels you in so you can lay down on your side and rest your head on his chest so he can gently massage your head.

“If our baby girl has my technique she will be pursued by your family, you know that,” he adds a warning you’ve been trying to forget for your sake.

You swallow thickly and murmur, “Satoru wouldn’t let that happen.”

Or you hope so.

“Yeah,” Suguru doesn’t hesitate to agree, but he still continues with doubt laced in his voice. “But you know they’d find a way. My technique is the only reason they let us date when we were in high school.”

You manage a tender smile and nuzzle your head in his chest, but quickly find your position uncomfortable due to the baby growing inside you, so you flip to your back and wrap Suguru’s strong arm around your neck.

“So,” you change the subject so you don’t spiral in your anxiety that tends to poison you when you think of your parents taking your child. “Have you picked a name yet?”

Suguru leans his head on yours, letting you feel his throat vibrate on your head as he hums. “What about Satori?” He shares. “It means enlightenment.”

Just like Satoru’s name.

——

*NOW*

“And you were supposed to cremate Geto’s body,”

Those words keep ringing in your head like a bad and out-of-tune echo

You had made peace with the choice you made that day. You made his funeral with nobody to mourn and you were okay praying to his portrait in his shrine, but now your past plagues you and you can’t stop the guilt from consuming you.

All this death, this chaos is happening because of that one choice you didn’t make.

All the distress everyone’s living through is because of you?

“Y/N?”

You slowly twist your head towards the door and see an upside-down Yuki stopping under the doorframe.

“Are you done talking with Tengen or are you still glowering?” You remark teasingly.

Yuki scoffs and breaks away from her spot. Yet before she can join you on the bed, you quickly interject.

“Turn off the light. My head hurts.”

“Too much wine?” She quips with a snicker as she does as you ask before she moseys on over to jump on the bed.

“Yeah,” you groan and cover your eyes with your arm. “I was doing some work and was chugging that wine…”

“And now you have your head hanging off the bed,” Yuki finishes for you in a scolding voice. “I wonder why your head hurts.”

You slap your hand on your stomach and lose your gaze on the blue hue painted on your ceiling by the fake bright night sky Tengen made for all of you. Which is kind of neat and nice….you have to admit.

“You know,” you add as you get lost in thought. “It feels weird staying here. I mean we’re not above ground on school grounds, but we’re still here, and it’s weird.”

“Yeah,” Yuki muses. “Takes you back doesn’t it?”

“Hm—Oop I'm getting lightheaded now,” you mumble and throw your upper body up to drag yourself forward on the bed and then throw yourself down when you’re at Yuki’s side.

“I mean to have a cute guy fawning over you with their dreamy brown eyes is so weird,” she says in a mocking way you instantly recognize and try not to give into, but you can’t help it. You drag your eyes to your side and see she’s already passing you a teasing look.

“Har-har,” you feign a laugh and mistakenly prove her right, so she continues to push.

“Oh you could die happy couldn't you, Cho?” She changes her voice as she bats her eyelashes. “Now I’m going to bat my pretty white Gojo lashes at you, and speak in my very fancy voice which seeps with my lust for you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and shoot her a pointed glare. “I don’t talk like that,” you remark and avert your gaze.

“You do,” she yells. “You talk in a very old money, old movie star kind of way, which if someone wouldn't know you, they’d think you’re snobby, but I guess he likes that because he drools over you with whatever comes out of your mouth.”

Your heart swoons and begins to dance all giddily, causing a smile to start tugging on your lips, but one you try to fight back.

“It’s not even like that,” you mutter in a very shaky way because of how bad you are at hiding the excitement that she is making you feel. “Shut up,” you blurt and flip around to give her your back. “I’m 28 now, I don’t giggle,” you grumble.

“Oh,” Yuki snorts. “You giggled.”

You don’t comment and watch the stars twinkling in the distance with a smile winning its territory on your face.

“Do you,” you quietly give in to your feelings, this once, out of excitement. “Think it’s obvious?”

“Not to him.”

You nod softly and welcome more silence as you let your heart gush over Choso and this conversation.

However, then Yuki's impression of you crosses your mind and you can’t help but burst out laughing. And as if in tune with your thoughts Yuki joins, and you both just laugh your asses off until you’re both out of breath.

When you collect yourselves you don’t continue to laugh however, your smile falls and you lock your feelings away, forbidding your heart from them.

It’s cruel, but it’s for the best. It’s for his sake. And no matter how much your heart weeps and begs for you to show it some sympathy, you won’t give in, you can’t give him more thought, or else you will fall and you’ll give into a happiness you don’t deserve to feel.

You prove that to yourself now, in the silence that fills the room once again, while your mind sinks back in your guilt.

Guilt you need to express before you’re overwhelmed. “Yuki…do you think…all that’s happening is my fault?”

Yuki shifts and her big brown eyes bore in the back of your head. “What do you mean?” She questions.

You let out a deep breath and turn around to face her with a watery gaze full of pain and guilt. “All that’s happening,” you clarify. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? Because I couldn’t burn his body when he died…” You trail off and feel your bottom lip tremble. “…he was my husband, I should've taken him with me and burned his body, but I left him there and Kenjaku got him because of it.”

Yuki looks into your eyes for a moment longer before she sighs and begins to share her thoughts. “You should’ve burned his body, that’s true…”

You gasp and feel like you’ve been stabbed in the heart.

“But,” she adds. “It wasn’t your fault. None of what’s happening is your fault. You should’ve burned his body because he was your partner, you should’ve given his body a resting place, but he was also the man you loved, y/n, losing him was hard. I understand why you couldn’t do it, but what happened because of that is not your fault. Kenjaku was probably already creeping around him, waiting for the right moment, it all would’ve happened eventually.”

Her answer doesn’t assure you, it doesn’t take away the agony you feel now.

“But—”

“No,” she cuts you off. “What ifs don’t exist. What happened, happened, but you are not to blame, do you understand?” She presses with a threatening narrowed glare. “This is not your guilt to carry. And you know damn well your brother and Suguru would never want you to beat yourself over it.”

Tears roll down your cheeks and you answer with a soft nod.

“It’s not your fault,” she insists as if she could see your reluctance to let your guilt go. “It’s not your fault, y/n.”

Her words strike against the guilt and work to stop it from spreading, but in order to get rid of it indefinitely you’ll just need time.

“Okay,” your voice quivers.

Yuki offers you a sweet smile and grabs your shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze that makes you smile faintly in return.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Her smile turns to a smug grin. “Of course. I’m always here for you, y/n.”

You reach for her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, letting the silence settle, and for a comfort to finally set in your heart.

Not only that but at least now you can sleep too without having to be attacked by all your thoughts, thanks to her. You really owe her a lot.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT. CHOSO P.O.V*

A knock raps on the door, pulling him from his slumber and putting him on instant alert. When he drifts his eyes to check the clock, the bright numbers read 2:06 am, so whoever it was must come with urgency.

Thus, he gets out of bed and walks over to open the door, and see that it’s you in your night attire.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He immediately asks with concern.

You assure him with a quiet response so as to not wake up Tsukumo. “Yeah, yeah, I just…” you trail off and glance at the ground. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Choso’s heart skips a beat and his mind completely falls blank at the sound of the vulnerability you were letting him see.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” you quickly add as he stays with his mouth ajar. “I can go.”

“No,” he quickly finds it in him to snap out of his stupor. “Come in.”

A relieved smile grows on your lips and when you walk inside he sees your shoulders lose the tension they held, meaning you felt comfortable being in his presence, which makes him happy to see. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable when you’re around him.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat in a more sweeter and apologetic tone. “I know it’s late.”

Choso shakes his head and quickly assures you. “No, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

You peer back and flash him a content smile before you turn and walk back toward the bed with a faint smirk. “Your hairs down,” you point out. “I like it. It looks nice.”

Once again his heart skips a beat in its rhythm, but this time a fluttering grows in his stomach that makes his face grow hot. Which is embarrassing to him, and it always happens when he’s with you.

“Thank you,” he mutters as he holds your gaze that lights his room in a way the fake night sky never did.

“Are you sure you're okay?” He makes sure to ask again.

You sit on the edge of his bed and nod. “Yes,” you smile. “I’m fine, Cho.”

The sound of that short nickname coming out of your lips sends shivers down his spine he never knew he could feel by the simplicity of a nickname.

“Okay then,” he says and glances at the bed and then at you. “You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the ground.”

You laugh softly and drag yourself back to one side and pat the other. “Come lay with me, we’ve spent enough time together already for it to be weird.”

His face grows hotter and his heart instead begins to pound in his chest.

In all the times you’ve spent alone you're always sitting across from each other, on a couch, or at a small distance side by side, you’ve never shared a bed. He almost wants to say no out of respect for you, but he doesn’t want to wound your feelings. Plus you did say you wanted company, so he slowly approaches the bed and climbs back on his side.

“If you're not comfortable then don’t listen to me,” you let him know so he doesn’t feel forced. “Please.”

Choso turns his head and meets your red-orange eyes mixed with worry, so he assures you right away. “I don’t mind. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You share a soft laugh and he can’t help but let his lips tug to a faint smile.

“Choso,” you whisper now in such a soft and vulnerable way once again.

“Hm?”

You let out a deep sigh and first roll to your side before you continue. “Will you help me? Keep me safe…please.”

You didn’t even need to ask, he already put himself in charge of that the moment he recognized you that night in Shibuya, but hearing you ask him this now just has a way to make the feelings he already has for you, intensify. He can’t even put into words how content he feels, and what other feelings are racing through his veins.

It’s like you set him on fire.

“Always,” he assures you right away.

Your lips tug to one of those sweet smiles he likes to admire on you, and suddenly, again, just like other times before, his eyes—no his whole being feels magnetized to your lips.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he reinforces his statement.

“You promise?” You ask for reassurance as you, yourself can’t raise your eyes off his lips.

“I do.”

Instead of smiling this time, you lean in and he gives into the force attracting him to you and parts his lips to give into his desire.

Yet, before he can know the feeling of your plush lips on his, everythings gone in a flash and his eyes snap open to see an empty room, and his hard member bulging through the blankets. Again.

It seems that he always feels a pressure within him that lit his veins with wildfire whenever he thought of your lips, your soft skin under his fingertips, your body under him or over him, your perfectly sculpted face so close to him that he could feel your breaths unfurl over his lips, and or whenever he dreamed of you…like now.

And his dreams always varied. Sometimes they were sweet like the one now, but other times he dreamed of you in ways he figured out shouldn't be had by friends and always woke up with the same throbbing pressure that ached for you because of it.

At first, he didn’t know what it was he felt, his body just set on fire, making his blood rush, and causing his member to rise and grow hard to the point it throbbed when you appeared in his mind. It wasn't until he was being nosy one time and found his answer in some pages in a book he peeked in after he saw you keep smiling at it as if it held some juicy secret.

He just wanted to know what was so interesting and why you read it so much in your free time. He won’t do it again, he knows that for sure.

Now, as to how he cooled himself down? He waited sometimes for it to pass, or he went to go get some water and fresh air, hoping not to run into you.

Like he will do now because recently waiting hasn’t helped, all he feels is the need to relieve himself to the thought of you. So he gets up and leaves his room and hopes you’re not out there.

——

*YOU*

The night is cold, especially because you’re underground.

But that’s what you get for being here as some bodyguard to an enlarged four-eyed thumb.

You just want to go back to your house and finally sleep in your own bed! You miss it all terribly.

And you miss having a warm body sleeping next to you. Sometimes you’d sleep at the furthest edge to avoid the contact, but in the back of your head, you always knew there was someone there to comfort you. Now all there is a cold and empty spot.

Maybe…no, that can’t be possible. You’re too much of a horrible monster to deserve anything good. He’s too good and his heart is too pure. You’ll just corrupt him.

But—no! No.

“Ugh,” you groan and flip around to groan some more into your pillow and keep your face buried.

Maybe this way his handsome nonchalant face and his precious eyes will leave your mind alone.

Nevertheless, the door of your room suddenly opens and when you turn to face the entrance there walks in the man you were trying to stop thinking about.

“Choso,” you call out in confusion.

He usually knocks and waits for you to open the door, or for you to invite him before walking in, this time he just barged in completely out of breath.

“Y/N,” he speaks in a deep silky voice that makes goosebumps grow on your arms.

“Choso, what’s wrong?” You ask as he keeps looking at you with his eyes darker than usual.

However, he doesn’t answer you, he just walks to you and stops when he’s at the edge of the bed, making you grow more confused, but also causing your heart to start racing out of what you can only describe as excitement over his proximity and boldness.

“I want to be with you.” Choso breaks his mysterious mask and takes no time to climb over you on the bed. “Always.”

You swallow thickly and let your eyes flicker between his eyes and his pink lips that radiate his warmth and tempt you to close the gap.

“I want you to be mine,” he murmurs against your lips, making your heart burst, sending your blood to race through your veins and catch your body on fire.

“Choso,” you whisper and keep your eyes on his lips, refusing to lose sight of them, as if you were some addict seeking their next high.

“Will you let me?” He asks as he grazes his lips on yours, making you gasp and feel a growing need in your core that begins to weep for him.

“Yes,” you give in so easily and see him smile before he presses himself closer to let you feel his hard member against your throbbing core.

“You’re so…beautiful,” he muses and finally gives in to your temptation by pressing a kiss on your lips.

Albeit you can’t describe the feeling of his lips. It’s like nothing pressed against you. But instead of questioning it, you fuel your need and wrap your arms around his neck to smash his lips against yours again.

“Y/N,” he groans against your lips.

You listen to your heart and deepen the kiss, feeling his hips roll against you.

“Choso,” you moan in his mouth.

He utters your name and pulls back, but presses a hand on your cheek to not lose contact. He parts his lips again to say more but suddenly you can't hear him, and everything around him and you slowly goes to black until suddenly you’re yanked back into a void that blinds you for a second before you suddenly open your eyes and see the ceiling.

There’s no Choso and no warmth, just the ceiling, and an empty bed, meaning it was a damn dream!

A sex dream no less that just leaves your heart lonely and disappointed, and your panties wet whilst your pussy throbbed over nothing.

Great. Great!

You should’ve not even accepted the mission! Choso is everywhere now that you don’t want to think about him or his pink and inviting lips you want to taste. His pretty sunkissed brown eyes you can get lost in. The veins on his hands you want to see when he grabs onto your thighs, his defined shoulders you want to cling onto, and his beautifully sculpted abs you want to press kisses on…

Maybe…

Just maybe you can just think about him until you satisfy your need with your fingers…

No! No! What are you thinking?!

Why? Why now?

You can’t think of him like that! You can’t just let your body ache for him, you told yourself you wouldn't, so sorry to your heart, but no!

And if you stay on your bed you will fall into temptation, so you get out and march out of your room.

Alas, when you walk out you let out a sharp gasp when you run into Choso!

“Sorry,” he immediately throws out as he steps back and turns away from you. “I-I didn't mean to scare you.”

You clutch onto your heart for a different reason and quickly assure him. “No, it’s okay. It’s fine,” you murmur and make the mistake of meeting his gaze, but you can’t hold it so you yank your eyes away because of the dirty thoughts you just had of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks and that only works to reignite your desire.

“Yeah.” You nod and bring your eyes back to his gaze, and realize that he never looked away. He keeps looking with a deep intensity that you can’t look away from now and works to restart the pulse in your core.

“I just need…water,” you lie, making his jaw go slightly ajar.

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Me too.”

Great…

“Now I won’t be alone,” you play it off and lead the way to the kitchen in a loud silence in which all you can do is dart your eyes from his hands, the hall, his lips, ahead, his baggy shirt hiding his defined torso, and the approaching kitchen.

When you’re going to reach for a cup he beats you to it and reaches for two, causing you to watch how the veins form on his hands as he grasps onto the cups.

Before he can hand your cup though, to avoid letting him catch you staring, you walk over and take the water jar out of the fridge to pour some into the cups he puts on the counter for you. Once you fill his cup you pick it up and hand it to him, realizing when your eyes land on him that he’s been watching you.

“You know,” you fill the silence and turn away from him to lean back on the counter. “We might as well be drinking air, considering earlier today we walked into a white canvas, and moments after that a house appeared out of thin air.”

Choso shares a small laugh, making your smile widen.

“Well,” he says. “At least we'll go insane together.”

You chuckle with him and then say, “yeah, lucky us,” before you trail off softly and bring your cup to your lips to drink, missing the way Choso couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

When you bring your cup down you look over at him and he looks away and drinks. “Your hair’s down, it looks nice,” you tell him, making him gulp, and for his eyes to widen.

You think it's just him getting flustered so you don’t probe and instead continue and let your heart lead the way. “You know when we fought I saw you kind of lacked in hand-to-hand combat. I could help you if you want.”

Choso lowers his cup and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to burden you,” he doesn’t try to turn you down, he just doesn’t want to bother you.

“I don’t mind,” you quickly assure him. “I think it’ll be fun actually.”

Your eyes find each other and he unfurls a deep breath before he lets himself give in. “All right. Thank you.”

You walk to the sink and dump the water from your cup because it’s not water you needed, you needed air to keep your mind off him, but well…

“Good, we start at 8 am,” you let him know and leave the cup to turn on your heels. “Don’t be late.”

“Well,” he says lightheartedly. “There’s nowhere else to go, so. I couldn’t even if I tried.”

You laugh just like he wanted.

“Good night, Cho,” you tell him for a second time tonight.

He watches you walk away and speaks softly as if out of breath, “Goodnight y/n,”

You offer him one last smile over your shoulder before you leave the room.

Instead of returning to your bedroom though, you end up outside to finally catch some fresh air and lose your gaze on the beautiful wave of colors that rocked over the ground as if they were ocean waves, and slowly feel all your concerns and desires slip away like they would when you admire the lake by your house, or the oceans you like to travel to.

Even if you’re stuck underground, in a place that can weaken you, you don’t feel distressed, you feel…bliss in the peaceful silence.

And that is something you haven’t felt since October 31st. So you relish in it while you can before you’re faced with more disaster.

You could actually sleep out here, but in the back of your head, you do worry that something will come out of the walls, or from the surface and drag you to some depths of hell or something so you just sit back and watch the aurora borealis accompany the starry sky.

For a while longer at least because then you hear something creak behind you and you have to look out of fear it’s some kind of demon.

Luckily though it’s just your tempting desire that plagues your mind often; Choso.

“Are you spying on me?” You tease him with a playful glare.

“I,” he stammers as his cheeks grow pink. “No. I saw someone out here. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t unwanted company.”

You ease the teasing glare and offer him an assuring look. “I was just messing with you,” you let him know. “Now.” You pat the spot beside you. “Why don’t you forget we said goodnight to each other and sit with me.”

Choso steps away from the back door and shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Pft,” you brush him off with a flick of your wrist. “It’s our thing you know? Us being up late and keeping each other company. I’ve grown to really look forward to it, so come if you want I don't mind.”

You should mind. You really definitely should.

“Well,” Choso breathes out and hides his reddening cheeks by looking at the ground. “Only if it’s alright with you.”

“It is,” you reassure him.

Choso’s eyes flicker to you and he sees that you hold no ill will so he takes you up on your offer.

“You know,” you muse when he takes his seat. “That the brightest star, The North Star, is right there,” you share and point to the bright speck on the sky just above your heads. “And if you find it you’ll always find home.”

Choso’s gaze lingers on your smug little smile before he follows your finger to the biggest star in the sky.

“Or at least,�� you scoff. “That’s all that stuck from what Kira told me.” You laugh softly. “They told me about all these cosmos and nothing really stuck, but that. So if you’re ever lost just find the star.”

Choso blinks and mutters, “what if I’m lost in the day?”

You snort and look at him with amusement. “Then you’re shit out of luck.”

Choso laughs and you laugh with him for a long moment before you clap and interject excitedly. “OR OR, you can always tell yourself this, Never,” you point ahead. “Eat.” You point east. “Soggy.” You point south. “Waffles.” You lastly point West and grin over the fact you remember that catchy phrase.

However, Choso doesn’t understand so he just looks at you with his thick eyebrows deeply furrowed.

“North, East, South, and West,” you clarify. “Belinda taught me.”

Choso nods in comprehension and nods slowly, but you can still see from his slightly scrunched-up nose that he’s still confused.

And you are too.

“But I guess it wouldn't make sense if you don’t know where North is…so,”

“We’re both lost?” He finishes for you as he meets your gaze with his lips picked up into a faint smile.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’re both lost, so it’s a good thing we have our mobile devices,” you mock him, and he catches that right away and shoots you a pointed look that only lasts for a second before he turns his head away as he can’t help but smile.

“No, but really, home is not far from here. Home is surrounded by trees to keep the community kind of hidden, it’s big for obvious reasons,” you say with a smile. “And, I actually thought of a perfect home for you and your brothers to stay at.”

Choso’s eyes snap to you admiring the colors in the sky turning from blue to red, and his jaw slightly drops. As if this is the first time he’s heard of this plan you told him hundreds of times already.

“It’s just above the lake, so close to me but not too close either,” you continue to say, letting him watch how the red hue consumes your face in such a majestic way—“it’s the house surrounded by the most trees so you get more privacy. And it’s not big enough to fit all of you, but you can build onto it. I think that’d be fun.” You look away from the sky and immediately find his softened gaze. “Don’t you think?”

Choso blinks repeatedly to break from the trance you casted on him, and shakes his head. “We’ll be fine,” he tries not to concern you, but you argue back right away.

“No, you’ll need your own space. You all will. Trust me,” you laugh dryly. “I know, because one, brothers date your best friends and break up with them, causing said friend to drop you because you remind them of your brother and they can’t handle that,” you ramble about your own past instead of actually advising him. “Two, they steal your hair products and always forget to buy you more after they finished them. They tease you until you cry and play cruel pranks in front of their friends to act cool. And lastly, they buy your child a pony without asking you first.”

Choso scoffs in a judgy way and queries the same without shame. “Your brother does that?”

You roll your head forward to watch the red hue become fiercer in color, and sigh deeply. “Yes. But you can’t blame him, we’re barely a year apart, so our dynamic shows that,” you defend your brother.

“Our parents got excited after they had their boy,” you share. “So they chose to try for another in hopes it would be another strapping boy, but I came out, cockless and became their headache.” You snicker.

There was so much Choso wanted to say to contradict you and comfort you after you just brushed off your parents disdain since he knows that feeling of saying you don’t care but deep inside it hurts. Yet he can’t form the words to say it the way he wanted, the way you would’ve comforted him, he instead tries to relate to you so you could know that there are similarities between the two of you.

“Sometimes I don’t think it matters what gender you are. I turned out to be a man along with the rest of my brothers, and Kenjaku didn’t care, he still left us like trash.”

Your heart sinks and your smile turns to a frown.

“Parents are like that if you don’t fit their perfect ideals,” he mutters.

You lay back on the grass and keep your eyes on the stars behind the red hue while your mind sadly agrees with what he said.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “They are, aren’t they? Do you…” you hesitate and let out a deep breath to let out some of that tightness in your chest that had begun to grab ahold of you. “Ever think what it would be like if you were ideal in their eyes? I think I would be less afraid, and I wouldn't have pushed myself so much.”

Choso stays quiet as he tries to come up with something he’s often thought about in his time in the void.

“I…would’ve been out 150 years ago,” he says softly but in a voice laced with spite and anger. “And I wouldn’t be as strong as I am now. I honed my technique because he left us.”

You look at aurora borealis slowly shifting to yellow above your heads and whisper, “I’m sorry.” Causing him to lay back to show his confusion better—“I must sound ungrateful and bratty compared to what you went through. That was real pain. I’m sorry.”

Choso’s eyes narrow to express his remorse before he interjects in the best way he can. “No, you don’t. Not to me.”

Tears fill your eyes and you can’t help but share a soft smile as you finally feel understood. Suguru tried to relate to you saying his parents never understood him and that they became distant, but that was just a teenage phase for him, he never really understood you. Not in the way Choso can.

It’s why it makes indulging into this dark topic a lot easier.

“Can I ask how it felt being stuck there?” You bring up timidly hoping it doesn’t upset him.

Choso lets out a deep breath through his nose and narrows his gaze on the sky, looking almost like he wanted to damn the sky because of the past that flashed through his mind.

“I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off before you can finish your apology, and clears his throat. “It was…dark. Like when you close your eyes and see nothing but pitch darkness. I felt my brothers, their presence, but I was still alone because we couldn’t talk, or exist, we just felt each other nearby. And the years for me didn’t pass quickly like it would for them, I felt every year pass by,” his voice quivers, and you see tears rush down his cheeks, making that ache you had already begun to feel only hurt deeper for him.

Even if you can’t know his pain, you still feel for him, especially as you see him cry.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you murmur and wipe away the tears that broke out of your eyes to scoot closer to him and grab his hand, going unaware of his shiver the moment your warm hand touched his cold one.

“You’re here now though,” you try to comfort him. “You’re out, under the sky and with a beating heart, working every day to give your brothers peace.”

More tears run down his cheeks and you’re tempted to wipe them away, but that might be too intimate for you trying to avoid developing your feelings, so you just let your heart yearn and let him wipe away his own tears.

“Thank you, y/n,” he whispers in a sweet way that makes your heart start to race. “You’re sweet. You always have been to me. Thank you for that.”

“You deserve it, Cho.”

The corner of his lips twitch to a timid smile, and you hold each other's gaze for a lingering moment as all your hearts do is yell to give in to what you both so desperately want.

Alas, you both don’t listen to your yearning. You let go of his hand, and look back at the sky while you slowly grow somber as you grow the confidence to share something personal now that you’re being vulnerable with each other.

“Can I share something with you that only my best friend Kento knew?” You ask first.

Without hesitation, he answers. “Of course.”

You let out a shaky sigh and clasp your hands together over your chest to fiddle with your nails. “Last year a month before Suguru died, we found out we were expecting,” your voice grows softer and shakier as you fight your tears. “And then he died and…the baby went with him.

No matter how hard you hold back from crying, tears cloud your eyes and stream down your cheeks.

“No one knew,” you add. “It was too soon to tell anyone, so we kept it a secret we would have shared later on. It never happened of course…” you trail off.

“I’m so sorry,” Choso says right away.

You wipe away your tears and meet his worried gaze. “It’s okay, I've made my peace with it,” you say.

Choso’s hand twitches out of a need to cup your hand the way you comforted him, but you kept your hand on your chest and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by reaching over your chest, so all he offered you was assuring words even if his face expressed pity and agony because of the pain he saw in your eyes. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You could say otherwise, you could bring up multiple pieces of evidence, but you don’t want to argue so you answer with silence.

“But why,” Choso interjects, catching your attention. “Why did you share something personal with me? Me out of all people, I’m—”

“My friend,” you cut him off before he can talk bad about himself. “And I shared this with you because I find it easy talking with you. Because you’re someone I can confide in.”

Choso swallows thickly and leaves a longer silence than he intended because of his disbelief over your words which only heightens his burn for you.

“Is that okay?” You check in.

He blinks and nods softly. “Yes. It is. I find it easy talking with you too.”

You can’t help but smile and reach over to grab his hand. “Promise me something, Choso.”

Said man is left speechless so he nods.

You then proceed to fold his arm over his chest to press his hand on his heart.

“You have a good heart,” you tell him something you know he doubts. “Promise me you’ll never lose it. Hard times will come, but you’re strong, keep your heart. Promise me.”

Choso’s bottom lip trembles and his eyes glisten, only letting a couple of tears fall before he nods even if he's still hesitant to believe your kind words that have never changed.

“Good,” you whisper and let his hand go to rest yours back on your chest.

You did such a terrible job at keeping him out of your mind. You suck.

“We have to get up early today,” Choso reminds you after a few minutes of peaceful silence.

“Yeah,” you make no attempts to leave, and neither does he. “We’ll pay for it in the afternoon.”

“Hm.”

——

*LATER THAT MORNING*

His fists are too tightly clenched and he has his feet too dug in the ground. He’s too tensed up.

Which isn’t strange to see, when he uses his cursed technique he’s always fighting fiercely. But when he’s fighting hand to hand he needs to loosen his body up more to move swiftly when the need calls or else he’ll be an easy opponent. Like now.

Instead of advising him right away though, you charge forward. When you get close you spring forward and throw your knee at his face, but he manages to barely swerve and causes you to land with your back to him.

You quickly spin around and in that moment catch him trying to swing his leg at your head, but you manage to trap his leg on your shoulder and throw your leg forward to kick his crotch, causing him to grunt and pull his leg off to stumble back.

You don’t wait for him to get better, you lunge forward and kick him to the ground before you drop down and straddle his waist to swing your arm over his face. But stop just before you can actually hit him.

“Dead,” you exclaim with a proud smirk. “Again.”

“Tsk,” he complains.

You get off him and grab his arm right away to help him back to his feet and finally share your advice. “You need to loosen up. You're too tense.”

Choso reaches for your elbow, but doesn’t make contact, he lets his hand hover under your elbow as he listens.

“You’re an easier target that way,” you continue. “You make yourself harder to move.”

“Sorry,” he says as if he was in trouble.

“Don’t apologize, it’s training,” you assure him and let his arm go to pat his shoulder and walk back to your spot to continue. “Let’s go another time and then we can take a break so you can watch Yuki and me next.”

He sighs with disappointment at his failure, so you rebuttal.

“Cho,” you press and turn to face him across the circle. “It's okay, you'll get better, that’s why we’re training.”

Choso rolls his shoulders back and lifts his fists, whilst you bend your knees a bit and clench your fists.

“Lighter on the feet,” you remind him before you run at him and hop again to bring down the strongest part of your arm on him, your elbow.

However, Choso crosses his arms and blocks the impact, making you smirk and pull your other arm back to throw him a left hook that he blocks again.

“Good,” you compliment, and then use your knee to jab his stomach and push him away from you.

This time though he doesn’t give in to the dull pain. He counters by coming at you by swinging his arm, making you dodge, just like he wanted, and quickly follows up by overwhelming you and throwing his other fist, and actually managing to nick you on the jaw before you could dodge.

“Good,” you mutter with a menacing chuckle before you shoot him a pointed glare.

Choso mirrors your glare and gets ready for your attack. Albeit instead of meeting him with a blow, you actually wrap your arms around his waist and then swing your foot back to smack your heel on his face.

Choso groans from the pain in his nose, and you try to swing around him to hug him from behind, but he wraps his arm around your neck to keep you in a headlock.

You try to squirm away, but he squeezes tighter, making you groan and dig your nails in his skin.

Choso doesn’t react to that though, instead, he brings his knee up to your stomach twice. But, he doesn’t demonstrate a finishing move, so you swing your legs around his waist and rock up with all your weight, resulting in you on the ground and him on top of you in a very uncomfortable position only because of the way his arm is still clung around your neck.

Not like it mattered to your racing heart and your need for him though; a heat still unfurls within you. While he falters.

Yet neither of you give into your desires, you ignore them and use your strength to roll back on the ground and throw him over you.

The both of you then quickly get up to face each other again, deciding not to waste a second and charging at each other.

The moment you’re close you swing your left fist, but he claps his hand together and throws his arms up to block your attempt.

“Nice,” you say between pants and get a smirk from him.

Nonetheless, you proceed to shift to the side to smack your hand on the back of his neck and push him down before you wrap your arm around his throat and throw your knee up.

Choso however, manages to block you and smacks his hands on your hips to swing you around as he turns so you can let go.

And you do but you then show off how flexible you can be after years of training, and wrap your legs around him with your back still pressed against his chest, and flip you both to the ground.

“Nice, that was quick thinking,” he compliments you between his own heavy breaths.

You snicker and don’t let get him off easy, you throw a jab over his face and swing over him to throw another hit, but he snaps his head to the side and makes your fist slam into the ground.

“Damn,” you hiss in pain and get off him to stay on your knees. “Damn.” You complain again and shake your hand.

Choso pays you no mercy, which is good, he shouldn’t because this is training and the second complaint was fake in hopes he’d worry. So you’re proud that he swings his leg. But since you were faking it the second time, you throw your upper body back to dodge and plant your hands on the ground behind your head to swiftly hurl yourself back to your feet using just the strength in your arms.

Now instead of giving Choso time to counter, or even attempt to move, you swing your leg. Choso catches your action and puts his hands out and claps them together out of instinct to use his technique, leaving you with the great opportunity to kick his face and send him to his knees the moment of impact, just out of the pure strength behind your swing.

And just to finish this round you walk around him and point your fist at his face. “And that’s dead.”

You drop your arm and offer him your hand.

Choso meets your gaze with no ill feeling and takes your offer, letting you pull him to his feet.

“Did that hurt?” You worry about him now that the session is over. “I’m sorry, Choso.”

Said man holds his cheek and covers how red it’s getting. “It’s nothing that won’t heal. You were great, y/n.”

You give your gratitude with a sweet smile before you grab his wrist and yank it down to pull him over to the bench. “You won’t heal right away like I can due to my RCT, which means it stings. Trust me I know. So let’s just put some ice on it.”

Choso parts his lips to argue since he will heal, but he can’t turn you down so he lets you sit him down, and just watches you wrap a towel around cubes of ice before you very gently press the cool towel against his cheek.

“Those were some nice moves,” you fill the silence so you can avoid getting lost on his handsome face and his pink lips just inches away from yours. “I like how you grabbed my hips and swung me around. That was quick thinking.”

Choso sits up straight and huffs. “On that last move, before you hit me, I pointed my hands out—”

“I saw that!” You exclaim and jump out of excitement. “You were totally going for a piercing blood!”

Choso chuckles softly. “I was an idiot. I could’ve dodged.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah especially because I kind of fumbled my footing there.”

“Really?” He asks and raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t see.”

“No.” You roll your eyes playfully. “Because you were going to shoot piercing blood.”

Choso snorts and snickers, making your heart skip a beat, and your smile to turn to a beaming grin.

“I…I did see a difference when I changed my stance and lifted some weight off my feet,” Choso let you know.

“Really?” You probe curiously. “You liked it? I know some people prefer the additional weight. It makes their swings harder.”

“Well, if I add the weight when I hit instead, I find it smoother,” he says and you nod.

“Yeah, I do that too, that way I can move fast without being too tense, but making my impacts harder when I use that weight with my swings instead,” you share.

“Hm.” He hums.

You laugh softly down at the bench. “I was trying to trick you after I smacked my fist in the ground,” you let him know.

Choso’s eyebrows quirk up and he shoots you a puzzled look.

“I faked that second damn to try and distract,” you explain.

“I knew that,” he now claims, making you chuckle and roll your eyes.

“You didn't know shit!” You argue and playfully push him away.

A teasing smile tugs on his lips and he just continues to say a bunch of shit out of the high of the moment you’re both stuck in. “I knew not to check on you.”

You shake your head as you laugh, and he furrows his eyebrows and brings up a question. “Does that usually work?”

You shrug. “Sometimes, depends on who I’m fighting. But it’s not to check on me, more so my opponent let their guard down because they think I got weaker.”

“Hm. Well, it’s smart then,” he tells you softly.

You mutter, “thanks,” sweetly, and then your phone suddenly starts to ring, so pull away and grab your phone from your sweater draped over the bench.

When you check who it is you smile when you see that it’s Belinda.

“I’ll go,” Choso tries to be respectful and give you space, but you grab his wrist to assure him it’s okay before you answer the phone.

“Hello?” You greet in a sing-song voice as all you see is a wood ceiling. “Who am I talking to?”

A few seconds of silence pass before you hear your daughter's sweet voice. “Mommy!”

You grin. “Chipmunk,” you greet. “What are you doing? Why am I looking at a ceiling?”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles before she picks up the phone and finally shows her face to the camera. “Hi,” she greets again with a wave this time.

“Hi,” you don’t fail to return. “What are you doing?”

Satori flashes you a grin and points the camera at some long strings of dough. “I’m making pasta noodles,” she reveals. “Belinda's mom said that it’s important I know because I’m a girl.”

Of course, that lady would say that. Tsk.

“Oh,” you feign a laugh. “That’s…cool. You having fun?”

“What are you doing?” She cuts you off and stares hard at her screen to try and figure out the answer to her question.

“I’m training,” you let her know, making her pull back and smile again. “Actually,” you add with a growing grin. “I’m here with my friend, Choso.”

You proceed to shift so you can show him off to your daughter.

“Choso this is Satori,” you introduce him to the most important person in your life. “Satori this is Choso.”

Choso glances at you nervously as if trying to make sure it’s okay before he looks at the camera and offers your daughter a small smile. “Hello,” he greets nervously.

Satori's dark eyes narrow as she studies his face for a moment before her face eases and she smiles sweetly. “Hello,” she manages to greet without shying away since she’s behind a screen. “Uh, my mommy talks about you a lot.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly turn away. “Satori,” you quietly scold her.

“What?” She asks without understanding why you’re acting the way you are. “You and daddy always said to tell the truth. I did.”

You sigh deeply knowing you can’t say anything about it now so you just bite your tongue and wait to correct her tomorrow.

“Anyway,” you change the subject. “Satori how was your trip to—”

“Oh, Mom I have to go, I'll call you before bedtime, bye.” And just like that she ends the call and leaves you hanging.

“Well,” you clear your throat and don’t touch on what she blurted to him. “You met my daughter,” you say and shift to face Choso and press the ice back on his cheek that isn't as red as it was moments ago, but it still is swollen.

“She looks like him doesn't she?” You ask.

Choso swallows thickly and drifts his gaze away to nod before he looks back at you with a timid but soft look. “She has your smile though,” he says.

You’re caught off guard and feel your breath hitch softly before you show your flustered smile to the bench. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Hm.”

You let out a small breath and then look back at him. “Does it hurt less?” You ask with concern.

Choso nods. “Yes, thank you. You’re sweet even though I will heal, I told you.”

“Pft,” you blow out. “Then heal right now.” You urge him to prove you wrong.

Choso narrows his gaze. “Well, it’s not how it works.” He argues.

You scoff and smirk. “Well until then I’ll worry if I want to.”

Choso’s chest rises and you know what he’s going to respond with so you beat him to it.

“Hm.”

Choso shoots you a pointed look, making you snicker as you hold his gaze.

And since he wasn’t really upset, he can’t hold back from sharing a soft smile while he gets lost in your eyes, building the tension that had already made itself a home between the two of you and urged you to just break it with an act of a kiss, or a confession.

But neither of you do, you just torture yourselves and sit in silence where only the two of you existed before suddenly Yuki’s excited shout breaks you away. “Who's ready?!”

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“Sorry I’m late,” you make your presence known as you slide the door open to the parlor room where you’re supposed to brainstorm a battle plan.

“We haven’t started…” Yuki trails off to scoff, making you pick your eyes off the ground to watch her stuffing her face with crackers. “You’re wearing a kimono?” She says teasingly.

You flick your wrist. “Don’t make a big deal,” you brush her off and sit beside her and across from Choso.

“I hardly see you wearing them,” Yuki ignores you as she props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her hand to lean towards you. “What’s the occasion?” She asks with a smirk.

You shoot her a pointed gaze knowing this was only about one man. “I wear kimonos often, they’re comfortable, especially when I’m on my period, like now.” you don’t give in to her taunting. “Do you wear them?” You raise a brow.

“Sometimes,” she shrugs you off.

“Well,” Choso interjects, stealing your attention away from your mentor and notice that a soft blush painted his cheeks. “I think you look very nice, Y/N.”

You can’t help but smile as you smooth out the red robe that didn’t hang tightly around your body, it fit comfortably since you were just staying indoors today.

“Thank you, Choso,” you redirect softly.

Said man swallows thickly and offers you a soft nod as you continue to hold his gaze until you feel Yuki nudge your knee.

You pinch her back under the table, making her snicker before she pinches back a bit too hard.

“Ow,” you whine and smack her hand. “Some master you are.”

Yuki chuckles and takes a sip from her tea, whilst Choso just ignores your and Yuki’s doings, and instead directs his question to you. “Would you like some tea, y/n?”

You perk up and nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

Choso grabs your empty cup and gets up to walk to the kettle, causing Yuki to mock him speechlessly.

“Mature,” you mouth and just ignore her as you fold your arms over the table to rest your head on your arms. “You know I was supposed to go to a gala today,” you murmur sadly. “I was going to wear a beautiful and expensive gown, and get all dolled up.”

“Oh, really?” Yuki probes. “Were you going with anyone?”

You smile. “Nanami to introduce him to a model slash sorcerer friend, and Shoko to get her out of work for a while. And Satoru had invited himself along, so he was going to go too.”

“Ah the media would've eaten you and your brother up,” Yuki points out. “I can read the headlines now, the ever so mysterious model, y/n, finally showing off a bit of her life tonight at blah, blah gala.”

You snicker. “Yeah, and he would’ve gotten carried away.” You can’t help but share with a bit of actual sadness that you couldn't actually see this day through like it was planned. It would've been so much fun.

“Here,” Choso interjects as he falls beside you to hand you your tea.

“Oh, thank you, Cho.” You thank him while you reach for your cup, and accidently brush your fingers over his as you take it from his grasp.

Choso offers you a nod before he retakes his seat at the same time the door opens and Tengen finally walks in.

“About time,” Yuki remarks as she sits up and folds her arms over her chest.

“Sorry, there’s much to do,” they excuse themselves while they take their seat. “Since I am late, why don’t we save casual mingling for later.”

You scoff and bring the hot cup to your lips. “We weren’t going to mingle with you,” you say bluntly and take a careful drink, realizing at that moment that the hot tea that seeped into your taste buds is prepared exactly as you like it. It’s exactly how you prepare it…

Did Choso know this from just watching you prepare your tea during those nine days?

“Gojo,” Tengen speaks in such a booming and yet elegant voice. “I know what Cursed manipulation consists of, but some of your peers aren’t aware, why don’t you share what you know since you lived with Suguru Geto.”

You swallow your drink and put the cup down. “Well,” you sigh. “There’s no limit to how many cursed spirits he can hold, but last year in the fight people call The Night Parade, he unleashed a majority of his curses. Meaning,” you add hopefully. “Kenjaku shouldn’t have many, I mean Suguru spent his lifetime collecting them, so it’s doubtful Kenjaku could’ve restored Suguru’s stock in a year.”

“What about the religious facilities?” Yuki asks. “He got curses from the non-sorcerers that worshiped him.”

You drop your gaze to your cup and shake your head. “No, I closed them all down, there was no need for them after he died.”

“Then why does Kenjaku still dress like a monk?” Choso spats.

You look at him across from you and bounce off him. “That’s what I'd like to know. I mean sure before he revealed himself it was to keep up appearances, but now? Who knows.”

“Kenjaku is tactical,” Tengen interjects and ignores the conversation between Choso and you. “He’ll find a way to work with the curses he gathered and what he had left.”

“Then let me go first,” Choso cuts in, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion, while your stomach knots together out of worry.

“You’ll die if you do,” you blurt without thinking.

Choso doesn’t notice the concern laced in your voice or the perplexity behind your eyes. “Then would you and Tsukumo fight against Noritoshi Kamo, three against one with me?”

You and Yuki share a look, but rather than expressing nonchalance like her, you share your growing concern.

“I’d be in the way right?” Choso continues to share. “So I’ll go first, draw out his cursed spirits, and get him to reveal information. If I can get him to open his domain…”

Then he’ll die. Does he not want to see that? Does his life mean so little to him?

“Then Kenjaku will have difficulty using cursed techniques,” Yuki adds in for him. “That’s when Y/N and I strike.”

“Exactly,” Choso agrees.

“I’ll say it again then,” Yuki repeats. “You’ll die.”

Choso doesn't look bothered or upset by the warning, he’s fucking nonchalant and it starts to upset you. You can’t even try to fight it for the restriction you put against yourself. The concern you felt twisting your insides, developed into anger that seeped through your veins and slowly spread out.

“I don’t care as long as we kill him,” Choso argues nonchalantly, making that anger pulse and pump faster throughout your body—“For me, my brothers, and the sake of my mother's curse, which makes up half of me and my brothers. For Yuji’s future as well.”

That anger now makes your heart pound and your jaw clench.

How dare he bring up his brother's future if he doesn’t even plan to be in it? Does he not want to stay with him, spend time with him, and fight for his survival? Why does he want to throw his life away like it meant nothing? Like it doesn’t matter?

You should be asking yourself why it upset you so much. With him gone at least your desire will fizzle out and you’ll stop thinking about him and a future you lost sight of when Suguru died. But your anger reached your mind, and clouded your reasoning, judgment, and critical thinking altogether.

All there is is pulsing anger mixing with your concern, so you can’t keep your mouth shut anymore, you interject to express emotions. “So what? You’re just going to leave Itadori here? Alone? Without you? After you just found each other.”

Choso blinks and slowly sits up, whilst his face shows his perplexity over your emotions.

“Y/N,” Yuki tries to stop you.

“No,” you spat and pierce a glare into Choso. “Why should I sit here and listen to him planning to kill himself? There’s other ways. I can help you, you don’t have to throw your life away.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ve lost so many people I care about,” you cut Yuki off with your voice shaking with anger and…fear. That’s what you felt too. That’s what you recognize coursing through you too.

“All in a span of a year,” you continue, leaving poor Choso just more confused and baffled—“why should I let someone else I care about die?”

“Because,” Yuki argues, but you keep looking deeply into Choso’s eyes. “It comes with our lifestyle. You know that more than anyone. Sure, you had a privileged upbringing, but you also grew up in this world, it comes with sacrifices. If you don’t like that then you can leave, I told you that already. Do you want to leave?”

You hold Choso’s gaze for a moment longer, and he parts his lips and looks at you with just soft disbelief now. It seems he wants to add something, but you drop your eyes and don’t let him interject. “No, Master,” you mutter.

“Good,” Yuki sighs. “Now you two listen to our plan.”

You tighten your grip around your cup and pierce your glare in the light brown tea as Yuki shares a plan she came up with Tengen. You have no protests, you’re okay with what she planned for you to do, so you never interject, nor does Choso. He just chimes in after she’s done explaining.

“Hmm, dismantling the domain huh?”

“You come after that,” Yuki clarifies.

“No, I should go first,” Choso insists, making you roll your eyes but stay quiet now.

“Domains are powerful but burnt-out cursed techniques afterward,” Choso continues. “So there’s a risk that your cursed techniques will be hard to use after a while. I know you and Tengen want to exploit that, but he won’t open his domain if he expects me to leap in. Even if beats me once it’ll convince him that the fight is only against you, Tsukumo, and y/n.”

“Alright fine,” Yuki finally gives in. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you mumble and take a sip of tea.

“And Y/N can’t use her fire-snake technique,” Choso protests. “Noritoshi has the advantage of knowing her every move thanks to who he’s inhabiting, he’ll see it coming and kill her.”

You almost choke on your tea, but you manage to navigate down the right pipe before you finally break your silence. “He’ll try to kill me either way because of it, I won’t be safe regardless.”

“Then let me help you,” he volunteers without hesitation. “I’ll fight what he tries to throw at you.”

The words you were going to share right away get stuck in your throat as you breathe in sharply. And that anger you held for him is forgotten for a moment as you’re now shocked.

“No,” Yuki argues for you, snapping you out of your stupor. “We stick to our plan. Y/N can handle herself. You can help when it’s your time to come out if you want to so badly.”

“Right.” You clear your throat and let your anger rush back. “I have my supreme art technique that I never showed Suguru. Trapping Noritoshi in my domain won’t work, he’ll probably overpower me, so I’ll use my supreme art technique to tire him out for Yuki.”

Choso narrows his eyes and probes with concern laced in his voice. “And you’ll have enough energy to fight after?”

You nod as you swirl the tea in your cup. “Yes, I will,” you assure him. “I’ll be okay.”

Choso looks unsure about your reassurance out of concern, but he also trusts you and believes in you, so he doesn’t argue.

“Great!” Yuki exclaims. “So we all know what we’re going to do? No protests?”

Yes, one, Choso’s willingness to sacrifice his life. It still pisses you off and makes you want to cry and fight him, but you’ve been told off already. And he doesn’t seem to want to listen, so you bite your tongue and let the plan be. Even if your heart…begins to ache.

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A/N- If you think about Choso and mc have not spent a day apart since Shibuya

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest

[instexcamera]

I'm weak to temptation and also really loved the ramblings so may I request a Leo smut with the Former king×Loyal bodyguard AU we talked ? Afab!reader please

Pairing: King!Leo x Dog Kemonomimi!Reader

Warnings: Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Breeding kink, Dom character

A/N: Hi hi, I would like to say I apologize for how long this took, I got severely burnt out from finals and writing so I took a break which is why I have not posted, it was tiring to have to force myself to write however it is much better now! I also struggled with this some but I think it turned out ok. Also I regret ever talking about this AU because now I'm thinking of what everyone would be

Word Count: 5.3k

18+ pass this point

The coup détat was a surprise, the unwarranted banishment of the king, Leo Tsukinaga, by one of his nobles. You had followed Leo of course, having a strong sense of loyalty for him. In his luxurious days, he had taken great care of you, his most trusted knight. One of the only people who truly recognized you and held compassion. Being a kemonomimi many had assumed you were a servant, only good for simple tasks, working day in day out. Leo, however, had seen you as someone to respect, he held respect for everyone no matter what they were. He had found your fluffy ears and tail cute, and when he realized you could fight he appointed you as his own personal bodyguard.

So when the noble, Tsukasa Suou, had forcefully taken Leo's place and threw him out, you followed obediently. You did not have to flee since no banishment decree was placed upon you. Yet the thought of that caring king who you loved so much out in the wilderness alone, made you chase after him. Truth be told he could have taken care of himself. He was strong willed and thoughtful, courageous in battle and caring. He was a hunter and could acquire his own food, yet you followed.

Changing into peasant clothes, bundling up in blankets and furs, bringing a small pouch filled with a few gold coins, sword at your side you set off into the frozen wilderness after your precious king. No one had stopped you, any passerby thinking you an impoverished merchant heading out to brave the dangers of the winter with nothing but some furs and a sword to your name. Walking in the snow was unpleasant and you hadn't known where Leo had gotten but with the blizzard it must not have been too far. You were correct, half an hour of walking, when you didn't think you could continue, a splash of orange in the pristine white caught your attention.

It was Leo, lying helplessly in the snowfall, eyes closed, lips a horrible blue. They had sent him out in thin peasant garb, nothing meant for a mighty king. You had thought he would pass that day, but your immediate care for him had nourished him back slowly. Bundling him in the blankets you had brought, carrying him in your arms until you discovered a sound cave, which was where you and him "lived".

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"Wahaha! You were successful in gathering intel from the citizens! Even stealing some nut bread and sweet coffee! I will have to repay that subject in kind when I have reclaimed my rightful position." Your tail wagged unconsciously at his praise, whenever he complimented you, you couldn't shield the happiness which threatened to burst out of you. He didn't seem to mind it though, never commenting on it. Bowing down on your knees, looking up at your king's face, proudly presenting the items, "Yes my king, I shall tell you all I have learned once we sit down and eat. I do believe we have some leftover rabbit from yesterday if you wish to eat meat with our meal, or we can save it for dinner."

A ghost of a melancholy smile passes over his lips, but only for a moment, you would have missed it had you blinked. "Do not bow to me, I am no longer a king. Besides you are a trusted companion there is no need for formalities. And I have told you to not refer to me as 'king' use Leo". With a bright smile on his face, he takes the goods from your hands, abruptly turning, tiger orange hair swinging widely. Ears flattened against your head in a moment of despair, however the feeling didn't last long, your Leo was not upset just stating something he wished.

You were relieved to not be required to bow, your 'outfit', more like rags, was scratchy and itchy, hugging your body more than you appreciated. Not to mention your tail kept getting caught on some part, the fur ripping every now and then almost making you yelp. Standing back up, smoothing out the pathetic dress, oh how you wished to be back in your hunting outfit. The material was much softer and stretchy, allowing more movement and wasn't as stuffy. Changing into the outfit would be a good idea, if someone from the kingdom wandered out here it would be easier to claim you were a hunter and not tending to the king, who should be dead.

The cracking of twigs and the rustling of leaves announces Leo's presence before his voice yells out, "It's so beautiful, I know you want to eat in the cave because it's safer, but no one would come out here! And if someone did, they wouldn't mind us." This argument again, he didn't understand the citizens thought him dead. Even if it was known the king lived, Tsukasa would search the forest himself until he found him. He would execute him the moment he laid eyes on him.

"No my ki- Leo. It is too dangerous, I have told you countless times! The kingdom is restless and uneasy since your banishment. Tsukasa is struggling with his hold on power and the neighboring lands see this as an opportunity to overthrow us. If it was found that you still live they'd have your head, I do not wish to see you used as decoration such as they do to unicorns." Leo opens his mouth as if to argue with your statement, but the excitement quickly deflates as your words set in. He knew you were right, you always were, he was the one with compulsive thoughts and actions. You were the one who fought them, usually making him see reason, this time too he saw it was dangerous.

A pout on his pretty face as he looks away, body deflated as he trudged back to the cave. You hated denying him, he was always so carefree and loving, but his safety must come first. At least he understood why these actions were needed and respected them. You needed to stop dwelling on Leo, your clothes were getting no less stuffy and you were out in the open. The cave wasn't far, a change of clothes would feel so good against your skin, tail having more freedom of movement and not getting caught on the fabric was a joy you wanted too.

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The soft, stretchy fabric of your shirt was a blessing. More comfortable were the pants you were wearing, allowing for freedom of movement of your limbs and tail. Stretching it out since the dress before had cramped it some. Said dress was folded neatly and piled into a corner of the cave along with others. All were stolen from the kingdom, found in merchants' carts who were drinking away at the taverns, too drunk to realize they left a cart laden with supplies unintended. Opposite that pile were finer male garments, meant for Leo. You could rarely find anything besides peasant clothes but he never complained, always dutifully dressing in whatever was brought back.

Leo was currently setting out the few plates you had, tearing the bread apart with his hands and placing them on the plates. He had a few flowers beside him which he set on top of the bread, making an awkward sort of arrangement. Coming to sit in front of him, giggling at how he attempted to make the food presentable. The bright sun colored flowers provided a splash of color to the bread, adding in with the nuts making it look like a depressed artist's painting.

"There, a meal fit for a king because I am eating it, I bet none of the others have ever tried bread such as this before! I am the first, whaha!" Tail absentmindedly starting to wag, brushing over the cold stone of the cave floor. You admired his optimism even in the poorest of conditions. He couldn't leave this forest, let alone stroll far from the cave, having to spend his days walking the same areas or sleeping. Leo was lively and rambunctious so staying in one spot was hard for him yet he managed. When you came back from your trips to the kingdom, bareing food or supplies he would help you, instantly starting conversation.

"My dear knight, would you like some coffee? I fear it may be a tad cold since you brought it over but it shall be tasty nonetheless." He gives a small little bow, mimicking how you treat him. Holding out your stolen cup, glinting dully in the light from shining in from the midday sun. "Yes of course my king, I would be delighted." Leo pours the coffee, the rich dark liquid filling up the cup, some splashing over the side. When yours is full he fills his, his face immediately turning serious. Lunch was when you reported all your findings, perhaps coming up with a plan on how to take back the throne. "You mentioned a kingdom is planning a conquest? Is it the Land of Eternal Stars? Tenshouin is one who would, he is power hungry and has the means to achieve it." He takes a sip from his cup, verdant green eyes boring into yours. "Yes, it is all the citizens talk of but nothing is confirmed, they are all baseless assumptions." He visibly relaxes, letting out a sigh. Ignoring that, instead looking down into your own cup, reflection warped by the rich liquid.

"What about Tsukasa? Anything new about him, I already knew his control would fade. He is nothing but a child playing pretend. He will run my country to the ground if we do not attempt something." Ears drooped as you took a long sip of coffee before answering, the cold liquid was watery, the taste of coffee was barely there, this was a commoner's drink. "He is still in charge and maintaining his position however more doubt in his abilities arise. The citizens still think him a fraud and as the moons pass they feel more certain. Your battle captain, Izumi, has fled. It is not certain why but it is rumored it was from a fight. Izumi did not want to report to him or fight, calling him a wolf and saying he would rather die than be Tsukasa's protector."

Giant laughs erupt from Leo, quickly turning into coughs as he absorbs this information, putting down his cup before he spills it. "Izumi, I would have never guessed, he acted as if he loathed me, however once I am gone he wishes me back. I will have a proper conversation with him once I am back." You remember that he was right, when you had crossed paths with Izumi he seemed to despise everyone, however that must have just been his demeanor. He must be devoted to Leo to flee his home, not knowing if he can ever return.

Leo wipes tears out of his eyes, slightly shaken by held back giggles from your information. "Let us eat our meal, there is much to do before night envelopes us in her dark embrace. I also have a song I wish to sing you, I composed it while you were gone today." Nodding in agreement, spirits picking up as your ears right themselves again, looking forward to his song.

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Night had fallen which meant the moss curtain Leo and you made needed to be drawn across the cave entrance. It was made not long after you had settled here, deciding it was to be kept up most of the time so any passerby would think nothing of the hidden cave, assuming it was mossy rocks. Of course there were exceptions, sometimes the curtain was let up so sunlight could stream in, such as today. Now the winter months were passing so you often came back to find them drawn up more and more often. Chastising Leo at first until you gave in, telling him it was fine but at the first sign of a suspicious individual he needed to let it down.

Using some sticks to light a fire while Leo fixed the curtain. Striking a rock against some steel you had taken from the village, small sparks emitting until a fire caught. The days may have been warm but the nights were still cold. A small yay emits from the entrance of the cave, signaling Leo had succeeded in fixing the curtain. Your fire's crackling steadily, and the sound of footsteps getting closer announcing Leo was heading towards you.

Pulling a folded pile of clothes toward you, similar one next to it for Leo. It was your nightdress, Leo had a similar one however his consisted of a grey shirt and brown shorts. Yours was a plain flowy white, highlighting your chest however Leo never said anything. Each of you only had two pairs of night clothes. They were harder to find in the village, even harder to steal. Stripping off your shirt, feeling bare and vulnerable with nothing on. A huff from behind you signals Leo. You and him had changed in front of each other many times now, yet you found he still couldn't quite handle looking at your naked body. His face would turn beet red as he averted his eyes however you never mentioned it. Leo deserved his pride after everything which had occurred.

Pulling the light gown over your head, careful to make sure it doesn't snag on your ears. Watching as Leo bares himself of his own shirt, catching a glimpse of his scarred back before the light grey fabric covers him. You don't continue watching, knowing he'll switch his pants next. He didn't need to catch you with a flush and ears and tail perking up. This reminds you of your own pants, heavily mismatched with the white gown you wore. Quickly pulling them off, tossing them with your shirt. The feeling of the fire warmed air against your bare skin felt nice, relishing the feeling before a small cough from Leo takes your attention once more.

It was time to talk of plans to take back the throne. Every night since you had found him weak in the snow you talked of how to overthrow Tsukasa. So far none of the ideas had taken root and this night would be no different. Leo was sitting near the fire, cross legs outstretched and staring at you. He had already changed and the fire light was casting a golden hue on him. He looked ethereal in the light, such a mighty king may look on a golden dawn. "Ahem, my knight, what is the matter? We need to discuss our plan of action, we have yet to decide on one and I fear we may be running out of time. The Land of Eternal Stars will not hold off long. I need my throne so my kingdom will survive."

You start to bow before shaking your head, instead scooting closer to the warmth of the flames and Leo. Whenever it came to these plans he was serious, his impulsive tendencies rarely showed and he thought through everything. "We covered that Tsukasa is losing hold on his power. Perhaps we could use that to our advantage. The subjects could throw him off the throne if they all attempt it but I fear many innocent lives would be lost." Nodding your head yes in agreement, afraid to speak and ruin his concentration. "What if you sneak into the castle and assassinate him? That would work would it not?"

Letting out a deep sigh as you shake your head. It was not the first time he had brought up this plan and you had to deny him each time. You hated having to dash that small ray of hope he had in his eyes when you looked at him. "No Leo. I am sorry, I have told you this before. It is simply not plausible, they would catch me and execute me. You must know it is not like how it was when you ruled. They will not freely let me roam the castle, trespassers are killed on sight."

Just as the times before his eyes lose that shine as he looks down at the rocky floor. Times like these were often now and you hated how you had grown used to him losing hope. He takes a moment to stare down before his head turns up once again, eyes closed as a smile rests on his lips. "I know. Let's move on to a happier topic, one I haven't thought about in ages. Once I take the throne I need a queen and I have yet to decide who I wish to marry. I will need an heir soon, the kingdom expects it. And I wish for you to be my queen dear knight. Of course you would still be able to fight, however you would be married to me."

Looking away from him as your face heats up, hoping he would not notice. Leo had mentioned this in passing before however you hadn't thought he meant it. You remember in his office he had many letters from nobles, asking for his hand in marriage for their daughters. Simple replies of "I am sorry, I must refuse" had been sent out to all of them. You had thought that perhaps none of them had fit his taste, not that you were supposed to be queen.

Shuffling sounds from beside you remind you that you just answer Leo. You must refuse him no matter how much you may not wish too. Leo was someone you'd love to spend your life with in a more intimate relationship but he was king and you were his loyal knight. Steeling a frown on your face as you look back up, except he had moved to be right beside you. When you had been lost in your thoughts he had taken the chance to move closer, his lips were so close to yours. An expectant look in his beautiful eyes, full of love that you must dash against the jagged rocks of reality.

"I am sorry, my king. I must decline, I appreciate your offer. But I, a kemonomimi, cannot become a queen. You must know this, there was already disapproval of me being your personal knight. There would be backlash from the citizens, you cannot afford that." You didn't look at his face when you refused, looking down at his body instead. You didn't want to decline, you loved him more than anything yet, for the good of the kingdom you had to refuse. It was not an offer, it was a declaration of love you hadn't wanted to hear. A warm wet drop lands on your hand, he must be crying, but then why is your vision blurry.

Leo's hand slides under your chin, forcing you to face him. That smile hadn't left him, his face was blurry but you could make out that he had no upset look. "Why my knight, must you cry after rejecting me? This does not make it seem like a proper decline from your feelings but rather a decision made off of others opinions. I am the king, perhaps not in the castle, but I am. The subjects will listen to me, they will not find fault in you. If they do, I will address it, you will not deal with that issue." That would explain the tears, they were not his, but yours. That is why he is not giving up, your despair at your own rejection shows through. Before you can respond his lips press against yours, soft then with more intensity. His were surprisingly soft, even after months of going without his lotions and creams. Yours are cracked and dry, never really using any of the products he had given you. He had no care for how rough yours felt, continuing the kiss.

The hand on your chin moves up to wipe away the tears that had fallen. Your crying had stopped. Leo's other hand moving up your body, stopping at your ears, stroking at the base where he knew it was most sensitive. His hands felt so nice, no had ever done something like this before. Moaning a little into the kiss before catching yourself, attempting to act as if nothing happened. Leo must have heard as you feel him press more of his body against you, forcing you to lay back. You could feel the cold stone underneath your back, your nightdress being no barrier. It would be uncomfortable in this position for both you and him if he continued which you are sure he would do.

Diss connects your lips from his as he moves to your neck, kissing it. The feeling was foreign, making you shiver. "Leo, move to the blankets please." The words came out strained, he was affecting you more than you realized. A small hum comes from him as the hand in your hair slides down to your back, his other hand does too. The feeling of his kisses leave as he picks you up to shuffle over the few feet to reach the blankets, dumping you on them in an haphazard way. The impact makes you let out an oomph, tail striking the ground in an awkward way causing pain to spike. Before you could protest Leo was on you once more, one hand reaching around to soothe where your tail hit, other hand dipping under your gown.

"I'll put an heir into you sooner rather than later, so even if you are worried they cannot ignore you if you have my child. Wouldn't you like that too my knight? It must be the greatest honor to have me take you in this way." Nodding your head along to his words, too afraid to speak and have an embarrassing yelp leave instead. Your attention was focusing less on his filthy words than the way his hand was making its way up your stomach. Leo's hands were calloused from days using a sword, which were many. Having a personal knight did not deter him from fighting in battles. Today you appreciated his battle worn hands more than ever as they pinch at your nipple.

Much to your embarrassment, your thin gown wasn't doing much to hide the bud as it hardened. Poking through the fabric when Leo moves his hand away. You feel your face flush harder as you look away into the fire, hoping you weren't as red as you felt. It wasn't long until you felt the hand on your tail slide up, grabbing at your waist. Leo had been quiet for a while, silently twisting and pulling at your nipple as you struggled to stay quiet and still. It wasn't long until his head dips down to take the nipple he had been messing with into his mouth. His sharp fangs graze the skin slightly as he sucks on it, making you arch, chest pressing itself further into Leo's warm mouth.

One of his hands trails down till it reaches your panties, pulling slightly at the waist and before dipping a finger inside. Gasping, waiting for him to slip a finger inside yet the feeling never comes. He lets his hand rest on your warm skin. You almost want to cry out but the way he was sucking on your nipple and how his other hand was placing itself in your hair you don't. His hand brushes over your ear which was pinned down as you succumb to the pleasure he's giving to you. His index traces the outline of the base of your ear ever so slowly making a keen leave you. Leo was being so mean, he was teasing you, you could feel the way the corners of his mouth were lifted in a smile.

Suddenly, the feeling of his mouth is gone, leaving you feeling cold. You don't let out any noise, knowing you were lucky to receive any touch like this from him. The hand that was resting oh so close to your hole moved a little, before plunging inside you without warning. Eyes rolling straight, the pain from him inserting his fingers dry making tears form at the corners of your eyes. He lets out a laugh at your reaction before using this opportunity to attach himself to your neck as his fingers work you open. When you come back to your senses you wonder where to place your hands. Train of thought is momentarily distracted when the thrusts of Leo's fingers turn more pleasurable.

Your own wetness was starting to act as a lubricant, the pain you had felt melting in a pleasurable sensation. Hands choosing to grip Leo's shirt as he makes his own hums of approval at how your body was reacting. You almost yelp when Leo grinds the palm of his hand against your clit, the sudden feeling causing stars to appear in your vision. These sensations Leo was causing were unnatural, you had never indulged in these types of acts, too worried about Leo. How ironic it is that he is the one who will take your innocence and by the way he joyfully bites into your neck you can tell he loves it. An unusual feeling starts to appear in your stomach the more Leo continues his ministrations. He must be able to tell too, the way your body twitches under his hold and how you attempt to grind against his fingers any indicator.

Your eyes start to roll back as Leo's fingers get faster, he has stopped sucking on your neck to watch your face. That feeling in your stomach unexpectedly snaps when Leo curls his fingers just right, causing you to release on him. Back arching up as a squeal escapes as your fluids gush out on Leo. He doesn't remove himself until you're panting. You could barely focus on anything, that sensation taking over your mind. You had never known how great being intimate with Leo would be, always assuming he had no desire in any sort of acts like this. Not that you would have asked him to partake in this with you anyways, however he had indicated this.

Too lost in the aftershocks of your orgasm you hadn't noticed that Leo wasn't in your grasp anymore. It wasn't until his arms slipped under your body and flipped you over onto your stomach did you realize. Face being pushed into the blankets as one hand stays on your head, forcing you into a position with your head down. "My lovely knight, you released so good on my fingers, why not on my cock too huh? You'll enjoy it, but then again you enjoy everything I give you dear knight. So raise your ass up, it'll give me better access." Hands gripping into the blankets as you comply.

You had no room to really respond, face pressed down in such a way you couldn't quite open your mouth. In a moment you feel his tip prodding against your hole. He must have freed himself without you noticing. Pressing your hips back against him as best you could with one of his hands forcing you down, feeling the tip pop in. A muffled moan escapes at the feeling. Only his tip was in yet it was already so much better than his fingers. If your mouth wasn't being forced closed you would be drooling, you were sure of it. Leo continues pushing in, the drag of his thick cock splitting you open was foreign yet so welcoming. Based on his grunts he must be enjoying this as much as you.

When he finally bottoms out you are sure he must be showing through your stomach. You hadn't gotten a good look at his cock but based on feeling alone he must be around nine inches, thick, with veins you could feel dragging against your walls. He wasn't moving, you were grateful. He was letting you get used to the feeling of him. "Do I feel better than you would have imagined? Anyone would be ecstatic to do this with me, how do you feel, dear knight, knowing you're the one I've chosen?" A high pitched whine is your response yet that must have been enough of an answer because Leo only responds with a chuckle as his hips pull out, only to slam back in.

The force of it knocks you further into the blankets, feeling the rough stone underneath. The position was not exactly comfortable but you were with Leo and he wanted you in it. Your ears must be laid back against your head with how good he was fucking into you. You knew your tail was sticking straight up, a lovely sight for him. It wasn't long until you felt him slam into you as far as he could. The feeling of his warm seed inside of you causing you to shiver. With the position you were in it felt like it was flowing deeper inside you. "I see you haven't released my knight. I feel as if I can go once more, how about we do it together? Would you like that? I want to fill you as much as I can but it seems like that won't be today, I am sorry."

You can only hum out a yes, he had not slipped out one bit and the feeling of his thighs pressed flush to your ass was welcomed. It took a moment for the grip he had on your hair to tighten, so close to the sensitive base of your ears you were afraid it'd start hurting. He stays still for a moment, you had thought he'd continue after his words however he is still. His grip on you doesn't let up almost as if he's wanting to build up your anticipation. Wiggling your hips back against him, hoping to get a message across but it does nothing. Leo is totally silent and still behind you, you can't see his face so you have no idea what he's planning.

Just before you're about to protest, he laughs, hips resuming a brutal pace. The loud slapping noises echo throughout the cave, almost blocking out Leo's and your own noises. It doesn't take long before lewd wet sounds join the mix, Leo using his own release as more lubricant. He feels as he's thrusting harder than before, more intent on you having an orgasm than himself. The hand that's not in your hair slides between your thighs, starting to rub harshly against your clit. That familiar coil wines up in your stomach, the rough pounding from Leo and stimulation to your clit almost pushing you to the edge. Leo's own pants from above signal he's close as well, pace becoming more erratic as seconds pass.

A particularly harsh thrust from Leo and you're cumming around his cock, tightening around him as your legs give out, forcing you and him to the floor together. Your hips bang into the rough ground, pain racing through the aftershocks. It distracts you from the fact Leo's releasing once again, cum starting to spill out. He pulls out once he's fully emptied, not seemingly able to handle the tightness of your walls on his sensitive cock.

You can't move, his grip forcing you down is released but your jaw is sore, eyes blurry, and body aching. Hips even more so from the hit to the ground. Leo drops beside you, panting, having lost his shirt at some point as you watch his bare chest rise and fall. His face turns towards you, flush, bangs sticking to his forehead but he smiles. "My knight, that was fantastic. I know it will most likely not take tonight but we can continue some other time. I am not in a rush." Nodding along at his words, barely paying attention as you watch how the dying fire lights up his body in a dull orange glow, still so beautiful.

Before long you realize his eyes haven't opened and his breathing is calm. He had fallen asleep. A sliver of disappointment travels through you but you squish it down, opting instead to cuddle up close next to his warm body and take a rest yourself.

[sunflower1experiment]

Reader dislikes loud noises but reader has the loudest soft voice

Wally

Wally was the first to notice based on how |Name| reacts to stuff, occasionally whenever Barnaby would tell a joke they wore ear mufflers but then speak in an echo.

“Helloooooooo Barnaby….What joke do you have for me now.” The dog obviously spoke in a casual manner while they clap excitedly at his joke. “Nothing much dear, just making time to say hello and leave an Echo behind. Mighty fine morning to tell a joke: but it wouldn’t sit right with me.” The joke writes itself.

|Name| was sitting right beside Wally and Barnaby shakes his head. “I can’t stand the thought of messing the joke up.” Their laugh echo’s throughout the neighborhood. “Hilarious! Hehehe!”

Wally takes the chance to tap their arm and lightly tell them nothing loud will occur. They take it off and nuzzle him lovingly, “Thank youuuuuu dearieeee.”

A lighter echo but it wasn’t loud for the others.

“Why don’t you and I work on the paintings for today. I’m sure you have a lot to express after those jokes right? Ha ha ha.” |Name| nods and waves to Barnaby who waved back then they leave with Wally. “Wallyyyyy.”

“Yes?”

“I love youuuu.” |Name| gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Mwah!”

He returns the kiss with a happy “Mwah!” Before yawning softly, “I am tired…” he leans on |Name|

“Though I am incapable of sleep I do wish to sleep alongside you and Barnaby.” |Name| helps Wally up, walks to their and then they sit on a hammock. “I’m sleeping…I’m sleeping!”

“Wallyyyy I know you’re awake.” They hug him while he giggles, “Your so soft. Softyyyy.”

Suddenly they felt Barnaby hug them both and they all begin to rest on the hammock together. “Goodniiight.”

—

Reader is a silly dancer

“Don’t mind me just dancing away while admiring the handsome view.” Barnaby rolls an eye, “Sure you mean that. What’s next thing you’re dancing your way into may heart.”

“Aw shucks dear I try.” You do a small shimmy before doing a small jazz hands. “Mind tellin a joke for our fans?”

“I would but as our fans they may blow us away with their jokes.” Your small giggles made the puppet dog blush until he kisses your cheek.

“Now I got a good joke for us, what do you do when you have a party in space?”

“What’s that Barnaby?” Julie gave him a dopey grin while he winks.

“Ya planet.” You inhale and hold back a laugh while Wally tilts his head. “Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!”

Frank wanted to squint in disappointment but Eddie was laughing up a storm while Julie tried to calm down from laughing so hard. But the holster doll could only smirk with pride while Sally rolls her eyes.

“Surely his dancing partner didn’t find it funny.”

You nod, “I sure did!” You kiss Barnaby’s cheek before twirling to the side. “Give it up for Barnaby~!!!”

“WOOOOO!!!” Howdy and Sally begin to cheer for him, Wally claps as well with the same soft smile he gives everyone. They all eye Frank who seemed to be nodding in approval, “Oooo The nod of approval! Thanks Papa! And Dad!”

Eddie grins. “The kiddo approves.”

“I approve too. We both share the same grumpy face.” You and Frank both pout together until Barnaby gave you a big kiss on the face.

“I give it my seal of approval!” You gasp, “I am a seal Barnaby!”

“Exactly.”

[justatree75]

apparently i made a shit ton of drawtectives incorrect quotes a few months ago???? i have no memory of doing this but here they are ig. under the cut bc. there's a lot™️

Cop: What are your names?

grendan: Don't tell them, york.

Cop, writing: york...

grendan: Crap.

york: Nice going, grendan.

Cop:

york: Uh oh.

jancy: “Struggle with depression” would seem to imply that I am bad at being depressed when I am, in fact, very proficient at being depressed

york: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables.

eugene: Is that… bad?

york: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future.

eugene: Isn’t that just causality?

york: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country.

eugene: So what are my odds?

york: Do you have a family history?

eugene: Of what?

york: Just, in general.

eugene: …Yes?

york: Oh no.

eugene: What is it called when you kill a friend?

jancy: Homicide.

rosé: Murder.

grendan: Homiecide

york, holding a kettle: Coffee or tea?

eugene: Tea.

york: Wrong. It's coffee

rosé: What's two plus two?

eugene: Math.

rosé: ...I will accept that answer

grendan: Norwegia. Is. Not. A. COUNTRY!

york: Then where are Norwegian people from!?

jancy: NORWAY!!

grendan: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

rosé: Bet you I can!

jancy: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

jancy: *sees someone doing something stupid* 
jancy: What an idiot. 
jancy: *realizes it's grendan* 
jancy: Wait, that's MY idiot!

york: We can't lose. Because we have this. *points to his chest*

eugene: We have heart?

york: Heart? No, me. I'm pointing at myself. I'm going to win this for us.

eugene: Uhh.. rosé just asked if we want to…

eugene: “Fell the mighty before their time and display their carcasses in our homes?”

jancy, not even looking up from her phone: She's asking if you wanna cut down Christmas Trees.

eugene: Oh, that makes more sense.

rosé: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, that’s fucked up. Like c'mon, you know I’m dumb as hell!

jancy: We call that a traumatic experience.

jancy, turning to rosé: Not a "bruh moment".

jancy, turning to grendan: Not "sadge".

jancy, turning to york: And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

rosé: I’m doing what I can to jog your memory.

york: It’s jogging, I guess. Its tiddies are jiggling a little.

rosé: Nice

jancy: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture.

The Squad: Awwww-

jancy: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything."

The Squad: Oh.

grendan: Cronch.

grendan: You hear that? That's the sound of me eating sticks.

jancy: No, don’t—

grendan: Too late

eugene: Someone care to explain why we have 6 dogs in our apartment?

grendan: They're golden retrievers, dude. They retrieve gold. I did this for us.

rosé: I am a responsible adult!

Jancy: *raises brow*

rosé: I am an adult.

york: jancy, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

jancy: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

york: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask grendan.

jancy: Wait- york, no-

eugene: Are you really planning to shoot the demon?

grendan: Don't worry, it's a holy gun.

eugene: How so?

grendan: It makes holes

rosé: *on the phone with eugene* I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl shit.

eugene: You’re pulling Oreos apart and saving off the frosting to make a mega Oreo, aren’t you.

rosé: Maybe

rosé: I just ended a five year relationship.

eugene: Oh no, are you okay?

rosé: It's okay, it wasn't mine.

jancy: What makes you all smile?

rosé: Friends and Family.

eugene: Snacks.

york: Victory and success.

grendan: Face muscles.

Sorcerer: I give you a cursed amulet!

eugene: Cool! It’ll make me look cute, and the shadow that follows me will make me more active, I’ll get out more!

[orqheuss]

Stamped on these lifeless things

(Human!Alastor meets Demon!Alastor - A character study)

Summary:

Its lips curled, revealing gum in a daunting sneer. “How could I be anyone else?” Clenching Alastor’s hand again, it pulled him closer until they were nearly touching noses. Its breath smelled like carnage. He was helpless under its gaze, stuck staring into its eyes as they shifted into what looked like radio dials. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw its antlers growing again. “I’m you.” *** With his final moments quickly drawing near, something approaches Alastor that has him questioning everything.

Word count: 3.9k

Tags: Blood, Gore, Discussions of murder, Discussions of abuse (child and spousal), Mentions of cannibalism, Religious themes, Character death, Morally grey characters, (possible) hallucinations, Death by animal

A/N: Based on a TikTok I saw by @domdrawsanimation about Human Alastor meeting his demon self.

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

The dogs were coming for him. 

He could hear their constant howls, snarling teeth nipping at the wind whistling through the trees and at the skin of his ankles as he ran faster than he had ever run before. Tree branches whipped against his face, neck, arms, any inch of skin they could reach, dripping his blood against the cold, unforgiving forest floor like he had done to so many before under his knife. The rush of the water to his right laughed at his panic, jovially wishing for his demise after all the horror it had seen. The willow trees mourned for the bodies that had been piled against their roots. It was only fair that he would die in the place where he felt that he truly lived, deep within the forest he deemed his personal hunting ground of all things living. A selfish creature in all aspects of his life, even in the choice of souls taken. Ridding the world of what he saw as filth was well and good until he found solace in the act of bloodshed. Until he felt the warmth of his first victim under his hands as he squeezed the life from another. Until he saw the face of his father in the eyes of his dead. Selflessness only went so far; it did not condone brutality in the name of righteousness. 

He believed himself something reverent before this night— untouchable by the unseen forces of the universe. Vermillion chested like a cardinal against the first snow of winter, and canines sharp like the ridges on his blade. Not a soul dared walk the streets at night, lest they fall victim to the Bayou Butcher. Little did the people of New Orleans know, the Butcher only hunted the most vile beasts— too hideous for even the wilds of nature to swallow. 

Monsters who hurt for money.

Monsters who hurt for power. 

Monsters who hurt for fun. 

It could be construed that he would fall under the latter category— the hunt was exhilarating, and the flesh between his teeth more bewitching than like anything before. He took joy in their pleas for mercy; pleas that they had heard many times before from the mouths of their loved ones. Loved ones who walked around town with makeup caked on their faces, hiding the evidence from the world like they should be ashamed of the behavior. Like they were at fault for all this wretched chaos. It was pleasure turning in his gut at night, the thought of warm ichor pouring from between his fingertips like a soothing balm— aloe against his scorched and blistered hand after his father held it over a burner. It was personal for him. Personal in all ways something could be deemed personal. 

He believed himself holy. Sacred. Divine. At his knife fell multitudes of souls, undeserving of mercy far past their last breath and deep into the putrid hereafter. They did not get a heaven. If it was up to him, they would not get a hell, either. They would float, stagnant, undeserving of pity, in the darkest pit of the metaphysical. 

Too devilish for heaven. 

Too cruel for hell. 

Too important for purgatory. 

A secret fourth thing of his own creation. 

His high horse carried him up and down the streets, its skeleton legs strutting against the cobblestone paths and puffs of hedonistic smoke cascading from its barren skull, for he was death incarnate. Holy sacraments overflowing with his name grew inside of his chest and bloomed out of his ribs like the thorny spires of a bramble bush, its bittersweet fruit growing in the cavity where his mother carved out his heart and took it to her grave. 

He didn’t need a heart anyway. What was love to a god? 

What was a god to a murderer?

What was a murderer to a man? 

What was a man to a god?

Now, that was the question under all of this— these lifeless things at his feet— the steps to his savage throne. 

What, truly, was the life of a man to the whim of a god? 

But, of course, he was no more a god than a raindrop was a flood. In the end, he was hardly even a man, just a soul with something to prove to no one else but himself, paving a path to his own downfall. The path had to end eventually. 

It ended in a clearing of trees. 

His feet left skid marks in the once untouched earth as he stopped, breaths panting heavily from his chest and hands resting on his knees. His lungs heaved for air, somehow gaining none of it even when surrounded by the purest form of oxygen. It was only a matter of time before the dogs caught up to him— the stench of blood heady and thick on his clothes. Where he once found a sick comfort in the copper was now nothing but regret. 

It was only fair that the tragic hero of this sick fairytale had his moment of revelation near the end of the story. 

In this moment of clarity, he chastised himself for being so careless. It was newly spring— a new hunting season for those who did not fear the bayou. Curse him for believing he would still be safe within the trees while staring directly at their flowering leaves. Of course there would be others in his woods; he did not truly own them, after all. Public ground attracts the public, and while the Bayou Butcher made his claim on the land, that did not stop the fearless from traversing the haunted landscape. He racked his brain for a solution, anything that would get him away from the metaphorical pit he was edging closer to and closer to the solace of his home. There was nothing in his brain besides the desire to flee, and the hope of survival. His breaths were shaky when he finally stood from his laurels, the coolness of the night nearly turning it to vapors before his eyes. If he could see it, that is. His glasses had long ago fallen from his face, leaving the world around him nothing but a hazy blur of greens and the blackness of true night. He couldn’t go back for them, even if there was a chance that they were still intact. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was trapped at the moment— nothing around him but empty air and the brush of trees. No sights to be seen before him. No warmth to be felt against his chilled skin. No weapon to his name. No way to defend himself against a force stronger than his will to live. 

And how he wanted to live. 

He was not a religious man, no matter how much he pretended he was for his mothers sake. But, for the first time in a while, he considered prayer. 

Alastor.

The wind whispered his name, the syllables like ice against the back of his neck. He whipped his head around, head nearly tumbling from his shoulders at the owlish-ness of the behavior, eyes wide and searching for the source of the voice. Finding nothing around, he focused again on thinking of a way out of the situation he placed himself in. 

“Alastor!” 

It was hissed this time— a snake in the tall grass of his backyard. This was not the wind, there was no mistaking it. Someone knew his name. Someone was speaking to him. Someone saw what he had done.

Fear clouded his better judgment, releasing his voice from the confines of where it had been lodged under his quaking jaw. “Who’s there?” 

A shiver inducing chuckle seemed to fill the space around him, drowning out any and all sounds other than the sickeningly malicious voice. “Take a guess.” 

Petrifying terror filled his veins like never before. Was it his time? Was this a divine intervention? “God?” 

The leaves shook for him as another laugh was released into the air. “Oh, no. He doesn’t make house calls.” The mysterious voice paused. Alastor could hear its smile everywhere. “Not for sinners like you, at least.” 

Anger festered in his gut at the teasing lilt. It was a struggle to not shout into the night. “What do you want from me?” 

The voice got louder now— closer. Radio static blended with each word, and the hairs on his neck stood at attention. “Everything,” it said. “And also nothing.” 

Alastor growled, hackles raised like an animal cornered. “What are you playing at? Why are you here?” 

“Ah, that’s the word. ‘Playing.’” It came from his right this time. He flung his neck in the direction, ignoring the sting it caused in his muscles. There was nothing but darkness among the thick trunks of the trees. 

Then, the voice came from his left. His neck cracked against the velocity of his movement. “Playing is often associated with games. Would you say we’re playing a game?” 

Alastor’s anger grew stronger, fire burning in his blind eyes. “No, this isn’t a game! Tell me who you are!” 

He could hear a quick swishing through the leaves as the mystery person ran through the thicket. They— it— moved at inhuman speeds. No dog could run that fast; no bird could fly at that speed. The smell of fear-drenched sweat permeated the copse. He remembered something that he had read in a book once, long before he decided to try his hand at hunting humans. Animals can smell fear. Even though this was definitely not an animal, it was worth every penny to try his damndest and seem strong— resolute. Nothing could truly frighten him. At least, that’s how he tried to look on the outside; there were other emotional tells than his body language. 

The thing seemed to go even faster now, laughing at the panic shimmering in Alastor’s eyes— mocking him for his desire to know who, or what, he was dealing with. Its terrible, scattered cackle was coming from all directions. This couldn’t be a human, there was no possible way. But, if it wasn’t human, then what was it? 

No, Alastor said to himself. This has to be human. There’s no other possible answer. 

Now was not the time to lose his sanity. 

He tried to hold onto logic for as long as it would allow, his nails digging into the solid base of fact and truth before it could be ripped away from his clutches.

But, there was no logical explanation for this. Logic was not his friend anymore. 

“No, I suppose there isn’t time for a game right now.” 

It sounded like it was coming from directly in front of him. Or behind him. Or to his left, or his right. It was everywhere. It was nowhere. It was somehow all of the above. 

“They’re close now, you know. It would be best to run.” 

Alastor didn’t need to be told twice. With all the strength left in his boneless legs, he bounded for the outskirts of the circle, intent on getting away from whatever the hell was with him. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t good. He was not one to believe in anything spiritual before, besides a small dabble into voodoo on occasion, but if he made it out of here alive tonight he would hold a new respect for everything of the sort. 

Too bad he wasn’t getting out of there alive. 

As soon as he crossed the treeline, an imaginary force pushed him back into the clearing. Alastor landed hard on his back, sending a new tremor of pain through his body. He hissed at the spasm that shocked up his spine. 

The voice laughed again, getting more deranged by the minute. 

Terror bubbled in his stomach when he realized that it was beginning to sound familiar. 

He stood from the ground, pushing all of his weight onto the fronts of his feet in case he got another moment to run. As of now, he was truly cornered. Something shimmered along his path of escape, the material giving the black night a starry quality. Whatever this being was, it had some form of magic, and it was toying with him. 

Alastor summoned every ounce of bravado he had left in his trembling body, determined to remain brave and undaunted until the very end. He was the Bayou Butcher. He didn’t get scared. Gods did not fear gods. 

But, something whispered in his mind. You are not a  g o d.

Shoulders squared, he shouted into the night. “Enough games! Tell me who you are before I gut you like a fish.” 

A screech of feedback assaulted his ears. He pressed his hands desperately to the sides of his head, gritting his teeth at the pain spiking through his brain. Wind whipped at his face, pushing his fringe into his already semi-blind eyes and stinging the cuts lining his cheeks. Before him, a shadow emerged from the darkness of the forest, its form nothing more than a trick of the light but still tall and imposing. It was taller than a redwood, the silhouette of a person taking shape before his very eyes. Antlers stretched from what Alastor assumed was its head, each piece of blackened ivory reminding him of the mangled tree branch outside his childhood bedroom window. Long claws grew from its hands, each sharp and pointed perfectly for slaughter. The most horrible thing was its mouth. Wide and stretched across its face in a smile, teeth bared and serrated— like taking damascus steel to a whetstone. Alarm bells rang frantically in his head. Horror cowered in his eyes. It loomed closer to Alastor, towering over his shaking form. 

This thing was a nightmare, and he was in its domain. 

Then, as if nothing more than an illusion, it shrunk. 

In front of Alastor now, instead of the colossus demon that once was there, was now a form quite close to his own height. Everything about it was the same besides the size. It still stood quite close to him— if they both reached out a hand they would touch fingertips. It was lanky in shape, thin arms and legs bracketed by a slim waist and wide shoulders. Its hands, if they could be called hands, were clasped behind his back, its spine straight and taut with tension. Somehow, the smile it was sporting was much more menacing at this size. 

It chuckled darkly, reaching a hand outwards and presenting it like a handshake. “Shake my hand, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.” 

It was a terrible decision— the farthest thing from wise than Alastor had been in quite some time. But, my God, he was scared. It was such an encompassing feeling, like spiders crawling across his skin, scratching at his scars until they reopened and biting at his skin until it was red and blistered. He could feel the cold touch of his father closing in on his neck, ready to squeeze the life from his tiny body before doing the same to his mother in the other room. He hadn’t been older than twelve when he committed his first murder. Memories flashed across his mind like a moving picture show, and if he had the strength to push them away he would do it in a heartbeat. 

His hand was clasped in the shadow’s before he realized what he had done. 

The thing squeezed tight to him, holding on like it was the last thing it would ever do before cackling once more into the night. Alastor struggled against its hold, but all of his efforts were futile. It was not budging. Color began to bleed through its form, starting from the large, red ears atop its head and moving downwards quickly. Everything about it was red and black. Red eyes with red pupils. Red and black hair. Red suit, not much unlike his own. Red nails digging into the skin of his hand and refusing to let go. Its voice began to take on a more static quality, the frequency buzzing in the air and filling Alastor’s ears to the point of flinching. It grated on all of his nerves. The more that was revealed of the thing before him, the more he realized that it was a man. The beings eyes were trained on his own, staring him down like a predator hunting the best possible game. The demon, because that’s what it was, he realized, drank in his obvious fear like the richest wine money can buy. 

Its voice was no longer warbled when it finally spoke, a transatlantic accent heavy in its words. “Hello, Alastor. Pleasure to be finally meeting you, quite the pleasure.” 

Alastor stared into the red abyss of its eyes, refusing to blink lest it bite off his head with its ravenous yellow teeth. “What are you? Who are you?” 

It tutted, squeezing his hand tighter in its vice grip. “Oh, come now, Alastor. Surely you’ve realized who I am by now! I remember being so much more observant at this age.” 

The air around him screeched to a halt. 

No. 

No. 

All of the blood in Alastor’s body fled from his head and pooled in his feet, the limbs feeling like lead had been injected directly into his bloodstream. His mouth had the distinct taste of bile and dread. He wanted to hurl himself to the ground, let the earth swallow him whole and never let him dig his way back to the surface. He wanted to hunch over and expel everything from his stomach until he was nothing but bone and skin and ligaments. He wanted to do anything to get his damn body to MOVE. Everything in him prayed to the Fates that what was hinted at wasn’t true. This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. 

Alas, the Fates had never been kind to him before; why would they start now?

Anguish clouded over his expression, a plea dripping from his lips like the moon bled across the night sky. “Please, no…” 

The demon stretched his smile ruefully, each point on its elongated teeth catching on what light remained above. “Yes.” 

Its lips curled, revealing gum in a daunting sneer. “How could I be anyone else?” 

Clenching Alastor’s hand again, it pulled him closer until they were nearly touching noses. Its breath smelled like carnage. He was helpless under its gaze, stuck staring into its eyes as they shifted into what looked like radio dials. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw its antlers growing again. 

“I’m you.” 

It finally released him, then, shoving him into the dirt and glaring down at him with malice in its eyes. Blood began to drip from the corner of its stretched lips. Alastor could do nothing but stare. 

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully.” It said, wiping its hand against the front of its blazer before tucking both behind his back again. Its ears twitched atop its head. 

“I am you. You are me. This is what lives inside of you— what you will become quite soon—”

“No—”

“DO NOT—” It moved with that inhuman speed again, leaning down until it was eye level with him and grabbing his jaw in its claws. “Interrupt me.” It snarled— animalistic— feral. 

“I don’t remember being such a sniveling welp. Accept the truth, Alastor. I am as much of you as you are of you— we are two sides to the same, sadistic coin. The sooner you accept this fact, the sooner you can achieve your full potential in the afterlife.” His smile somehow became more ferocious. “And you will achieve it. I am the best you will ever be. Your puny murders on this plain are nothing compared to what I have done in the depths of hell. People will fear your name like never before, and you will relish in it.”

It released Alastor roughly, standing back to its full height and leering down at him. 

“I have come only to give you a taste for what’s to come. This was for my enjoyment, not as a warning. Do not get this twisted. My reasons are my own; you will come to realize that soon enough. Even still, this was quite enjoyable, I assure you.” 

Alastor attempted to find his voice again, his words leaking out feebly and choppy with fright. “You— you aren’t real. You can’t be real.” 

It chuckled to itself, looking down at him with something almost akin to pity. “Real or not real, you are seeing me now, you have seen me before, and you will see me again.” 

Flashes of red hair and yellowed teeth scream across his memory— things that his mother told him were just nightmares— things that hid in his closet or under his bed. He shivered. It has been with him for quite some time. 

A thin microphone appeared in the demon’s hand seemingly out of thin air, and with a swish of the stick green magic began to buzz around its form. It smiled down at him, one last time, and for the first time Alastor realized that its grin actually met its eyes for once. True, demented happiness buzzed in the air with its residual radio static. 

“That’s all the time I have, I’m afraid. I will be seeing you very soon, Alastor.” It paused, glee dancing in its eyes. “Or, more accurately, you’ll be seeing me.” 

With its final words, the demon vanished once again into a mass of shadow. Its form breathed through the air, bringing back the soft spring wind and the sound of cicadas chirping through the night. Even the trees seemed relieved to have the demon gone, like nature sighed with relief after being trapped for so long. Everything seemed to be back in balance at last. 

Alastor released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He could only revel in his own relief for a moment before the sound of a twig snapping drew his attention to something moving in front of him. Where the demon was once standing was now the hazy image of a prowling dog, haunches raised and ready to attack. An aching dread curled around his ribs at the sight. His heart leapt into his throat. The animal's teeth were bared at him, eyes narrowed and twitching with each step closer. The smallest pink hue could be seen against its teeth— flesh, as Alastor quickly came to realize. Fear squeezed at his throat once again, and his mind ran wild. 

Please no, it can’t end like this.

I’ll do better. I’ll be better. 

God don’t let me die like this. 

I don’t want to die.

Mama, help me.

I’m so scared, mama. 

And then the dog leaped.

Like what you read? Here's more!

[valentinetypewriter]

I'm obsessed with the names of The Noble House of Black

Enjoy my not so little rant about the black family names since astronomy is my ⭐️special⭐️ interest

This only cover Sirius Black, Regulus Arcturus Black and Orion Black

Sirius Black the 3rd

We all know Sirius - the star from the dog constellation - is the brightest star in the sky it's almost twice as bright as the star Canopus which is the second brightest star in the sky. (which is quite fitting for Sirius Black, the brightest in the family, Sirius does translate to glowing or scorching, and spoilers but the man can turn into a dog). What's insanely interesting to me about the name of Sirius (and his animal form) and his father Orion though is that Canis Major (the constellation that Sirius is a part of) and canis minor are known as Orion's hunting dogs.

Regulus Arcturus Black

The star Regulus is ranked 21 on the list of brightest stars, Regulus just so happens to be the brightest star in the Leo constellation (the fucking lion constellation, and Regulus did die because of an act of Bravery, to betray not only his family but the dark lord to try and stop him, knowing the risk of death) not to mention the star is also known as Qalb Al Asad, from the Arabic phrase meaning 'the heart of the lion'. The traditional name for the star 'Regulus' is Latin for prince/little King, more of its other names in different languages translates to things like The king, the great, the mighty. Another interesting thing is that it isn't just one star, it's actually a star system made up of around 4 stars that orbit each other due to their gravitational attraction. But while his first name is ranked 21 his middle name Arcturus (and yes I know his middle name is after his grandfather but this is about Reggie) is ranked as the 4th brightest star and is a red giant, it's also incredibly huge compared to our sun

Orion Black

(Again canis major and minor are literally his dogs.) In Greek mythology Orion was a huntsman placed among the stars by Zeus as a constellation. Another interesting link between Sirius and Orion is That in ancient Egypt, the stars of Orion were regarded as a god by the name of Sah who was known as the father of the gods. This was because Orion rises before Sirius, the star whose heliacal rising was the basis for the Solar Egyptian calendar

(Heliacal rising - the phenomenon of when a star first becomes visible above the eastern horizon just before sunrise after a complete orbit of the Earth around the Sun. What's also interesting is that the most historically import of these "morning stars" Is the rising of Sirius)It's actually very interesting to me that Orion and Sirius are named after those specific stars, they have quite a few connections to each other.

[shantyofme]

This is my own little family of Furies, I kind of want to dive deeper into their characters later but for now I can just talk about them surface level!

So baisically, because I hate the fact that the only way for nightlights to make more nightlights is inbreeding, I like to pretend that were more Nightfuries out there, and they came to the Hidden World when Toothless had them leave the humans (temporarily, i refuse to accept that they left permanently). And once Toothless and the Light Fury, Pearl, (I hc that as her name because it's my dogs name and I think it suits her too!) got together, it made the other night and light furies see that as a possibility. So Visionary, being apart of the small Nightfury pack the came to the HW, met Clouddancer.

Visionary is a fairly large male Nightfury, slightly older than Toothless but not by much. He is super shy at first, but very energetic once you open up that side of him. But he is also an insanely quick thinker because of how hard it is/was for Night furies to survive because they were constantly avoiding humans. Also I like to think that yes he has a pack, but nighfuries we’re probably independent hunters, but because of Grimmel mass hunting them, they formed a pack of however many nightfuries were left, because remember these dragons are super smart, and could definitely pull something like that off. I will definitely expand on his character another time.

Clouddancer is a female Lightfury and has more grayish blue eyes. Her scales aren’t as shiny and sparkly since she hasn't left the HW as much as Pearl has and hasn't needed to use her invisibility power as much. (I like to think that the reason Lightfuries are so sparkly is because of how often they coat themselves in fire hot enough to make themselves reflective). Anyways she’s super curious and kind of nosy, she’s very loyal though and gets snappy with the dragons that don’t agree with Toothless being king. I will expand on her character another time.

Now when they met it was strictly a misunderstanding, Visionary didn’t know there were any other nightfuries other than his pack, so he obviously went to see if the rumors of a nightfury alpha were true, and he did this cautiously. Clouddancer thought it could be an attempt to harm Toothless or something so she tackled him. After desperately explaining himself, she backed off, and they didn’t get along to well. Later down the line though, they bonded over Visionary wanting to be less apart of his pack and have more freedom, while Clouddancer wanted to go on more adventures, and just explore and see more. So obviously while sneaking out of the HW to do all that, they ran into eachother when Visionary is captured by some low life dragon hunters. Yes there are still dragon hunters, it hasn’t been that long since dragons left at this point. Anyways Clouddancer spots this and ends up saving him and he returns the favor by exploring with her to keep her safe. They visit Berk, secretly of course, and Clouddancer loves all the little people there. Anyways in this adventure they fall in love yada yada, it’s super cute and yah. There’s a whole lot more to this that I’ll develop later but that’s the gist of it ig.

They end up having two boys, Mighty and Hammer the twins. Mighty being more outgoing, playful and adventurous, while Hammer is more introverted but extremely brave and easily pissed off.

By the way, these names are given to them by the gang, because Hiccup ends up going to the HW way earlier than in the movie cus he misses Toothless too much, and the rest of the gang come too (they actually convinced him to go with them to find their dragons) he found out about all the nighfuries and he just had to meet them and name every single one, even though they all tried to kill him at first.

Lemme know if I should do more about these characters though!

(I know the Nighlights look similar to Ruffrunner but I originally made these characters with a Minecraft mod called Isle of Berk, and when Clouddancer and Visionary’s eggs hatched they both were the Ruffrunner modle, so I changed them a bit, but kept them pretty similar as to how they are in my mc world 💀👍)

(Also why is some of the text closer together than other parts????)

[pugzman3]

Psalms chapter 68

1 (To the chief Musician, A Psalm or Song of David.) Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered: let them also that hate him flee before him.

2 As smoke is driven away, so drive them away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God.

3 But let the righteous be glad; let them rejoice before God: yea, let them exceedingly rejoice.

4 Sing unto God, sing praises to his name: extol him that rideth upon the heavens by his name JAH, and rejoice before him.

5 A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.

6 God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains: but the rebellious dwell in a dry land.

7 O God, when thou wentest forth before thy people, when thou didst march through the wilderness; Selah:

8 The earth shook, the heavens also dropped at the presence of God: even Sinai itself was moved at the presence of God, the God of Israel.

9 Thou, O God, didst send a plentiful rain, whereby thou didst confirm thine inheritance, when it was weary.

10 Thy congregation hath dwelt therein: thou, O God, hast prepared of thy goodness for the poor.

11 The Lord gave the word: great was the company of those that published it.

12 Kings of armies did flee apace: and she that tarried at home divided the spoil.

13 Though ye have lien among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold.

14 When the Almighty scattered kings in it, it was white as snow in Salmon.

15 The hill of God is as the hill of Bashan; an high hill as the hill of Bashan.

16 Why leap ye, ye high hills? this is the hill which God desireth to dwell in; yea, the LORD will dwell in it for ever.

17 The chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels: the Lord is among them, as in Sinai, in the holy place.

18 Thou hast ascended on high, thou hast led captivity captive: thou hast received gifts for men; yea, for the rebellious also, that the LORD God might dwell among them.

19 Blessed be the Lord, who daily loadeth us with benefits, even the God of our salvation. Selah.

20 He that is our God is the God of salvation; and unto GOD the Lord belong the issues from death.

21 But God shall wound the head of his enemies, and the hairy scalp of such an one as goeth on still in his trespasses.

22 The Lord said, I will bring again from Bashan, I will bring my people again from the depths of the sea:

23 That thy foot may be dipped in the blood of thine enemies, and the tongue of thy dogs in the same.

24 They have seen thy goings, O God; even the goings of my God, my King, in the sanctuary.

25 The singers went before, the players on instruments followed after; among them were the damsels playing with timbrels.

26 Bless ye God in the congregations, even the Lord, from the fountain of Israel.

27 There is little Benjamin with their ruler, the princes of Judah and their council, the princes of Zebulun, and the princes of Naphtali.

28 Thy God hath commanded thy strength: strengthen, O God, that which thou hast wrought for us.

29 Because of thy temple at Jerusalem shall kings bring presents unto thee.

30 Rebuke the company of spearmen, the multitude of the bulls, with the calves of the people, till every one submit himself with pieces of silver: scatter thou the people that delight in war.

31 Princes shall come out of Egypt; Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God.

32 Sing unto God, ye kingdoms of the earth; O sing praises unto the Lord; Selah:

33 To him that rideth upon the heavens of heavens, which were of old; lo, he doth send out his voice, and that a mighty voice.

34 Ascribe ye strength unto God: his excellency is over Israel, and his strength is in the clouds.

35 O God, thou art terrible out of thy holy places: the God of Israel is he that giveth strength and power unto his people. Blessed be God.

[flw3rrr]

A broken Promise

Characters: Dutch x OC

summary: Dutch meets a girl in Saint Denis. His attempts to swoon her over in order to get any kinds of amount of money he needs for his High mighty plan to leave for Tahiti.

OC name: Audrey evermore

Warnings: manipulation, angst, Taking advantage of use of money, Age gap, (Please let me know if anything else i missed!)

A/n: second time writing a long one. This man is like tough to write for.

Words: 4,732

It was just a normal day in Saint Denis. The workers were heading to their jobs to earn money for their homes, to keep food on the table, or to pay for their families. For the rich, perhaps. They mostly went to gamble, head to the offices, or even go on the boat and play more poker. That’s what Audrey’s Father did. he would spend but somehow win enough money to still gamble it away and keep his family together and rich. For her mother…. She spent her time gossiping with her lady friends, mostly discussing clothing or the events happening in town.

Audrey kept to herself and stayed quiet, as she didn't really have any friends. She would talk to the maids or any worker she saw or spend time alone when she wasn't forced to hang out with her mother and listen to gossip. Audrey would take walks around Saint Denis, taking in the atmosphere and admiring the flowers as she walked by. All the walks were normal. She gave a kind nod to those who greeted her with a good morning or afternoon. Nobody reading made Audrey interested in them.

That was until she met him. Dutch van der Linde... A famous outlaw across the states. He was charming and seemed smart just from his looks, especially with that grin he had. Audrey was memorized by him, but they only offered small waves and glances when given such an opportunity, but he was rarely seen in Saint Denis.

That was until she was walking her newly dog down the streets her father gifted to her, she noticed Him. but he was with two other men walking to Angelo Bronte’s house. She didn’t think much as she still continued to walk down as the new dog sniffed everything in her path. Audrey thought things on why on earth he was going to Brontes house, nobody really messed with him.

As she strolled back home, she suddenly heard a voice speak to her. It was hard to describe, but it sounded charming and strong. Audrey turned around to face the man, her eyes widening as she saw it was him. He stood right in front of her, a smile upon his face.

“I can see you have a new friend to join your walks miss.” He spoke with such confidence in his words. Almost as he seemed he was always right. Audrey was temporarily speechless, unable to process the fact that he was actually speaking to her. As she noticed he was awaiting a response from her, she eventually began to speak.

“Oh, yes… My father gave him to me as a gift. I named him Argus” Dutch loved the sound of her voice - it was soft and calming, almost as if it could soothe a crying baby immediately. He knew he wanted to get to know her better, so he made a mental note to take advantage of any future opportunities to do so.

“Well, isn't that kind gesture of your father. Rich I presume?” He only asked this, of course, to see if she would be any help for him and his gang with money. possibly scam them out of anything. “Well, you could say that I just don't usually like using the word rich. wealthy mostly.” Audrey said with a small smile.

Bingo, he thought. He knew that all he had to do was get closer to her, meet her parents, and get on good terms with them, especially her father. His goal was to ultimately swindle them out of as much money as he could. “Well, I'll let you head home miss… Perhaps I can walk you?” he said kindly.

Audrey was still staring at him in awe, almost hypnotized by his spoken words. After a moment's silence, she finally replied, "That's very kind of you," and began walking back home with him by her side. They both continued to speak as they walked back to her place. Dutch was sure to be careful of his questions, or answers. He didn’t want to scare her off quickly. The sun was slowly setting making the streetlights slowly turn on to light the roads and areas for the dark.

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

Over the past few days, Audrey and Dutch had started to stop on the street and having their own little talks with each other. She noticed that it was he who was mostly finding her, rather than the other way around. The chats would begin with him bringing her gifts - a small ring or a flower - which were all part of his plan to win her over and get the money he wanted from her father. Despite his motives, Audrey would always blush over his gestures, almost feeling hypnotized by him.

Though when he attended the party with Arthur and some of the other members, he found himself in a conversation with Bronte when suddenly a man in a well-fitting suit walked onto the balcony. "Ah, Mr. Evermore," Bronte spoke. Dutch was surprised, but at the same time, he was excited to be introduced to Audrey's father for the first time. He now had the opportunity to talk to him alone or convince Bronte to help him in his scheme to get money from her father. They were already discussing the subject of money, so it could be an easy sell.

"I apologize for being late, Bronte," Mr. Evermore said as he approached the balcony. "My wife was having difficulty deciding which necklace to wear, and she didn't want to leave our daughter at home alone." He nodded to Dutch, who was already standing there. "Women," Bronte said in response. Dutch was finally introduced to Audrey's father - learning that his name was William. The three continued to speak for a while, until Dutch joined Arthur to send him on a little mission.

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

A week had passed since the party, and Audrey hadn't heard anything from Dutch since their last spoken moment. She wondered if he had gotten tired of her already. She took a moment to brush her hair with a hairbrush she had gotten during a trip to France. After getting dressed for the day, she decided to take her dog on a walk to enjoy the nice weather outside.

As she walked around the small park near her home, she once again heard that familiar voice say, "Well, it certainly has been a while since we last spoke." She smiled to herself and turned around to face him, and Dutch could see the happiness on her face. He loved it, knowing that his tactics were working on her.

“It has," Audrey replied eagerly with a hint of happiness in her tone. "It's been a while since we've seen each other. I hope everything is alright?" Her voice started slow and monotonous, but it picked up its pace, and now she felt as if it had never sounded better.

Dutch couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at her concern for him. He admitted to himself that he had developed some feelings for her. His plan had originally been to befriend her so that she would introduce him to her father, but he had already met him at that party.

However, no matter how much he liked her, he had to keep his focus on earning enough money to move to Tahiti. “I’m fine, Though I had a quite a head injury, Ive healed fast.” he nodded. Audrey's expression filled with shock and concern as she heard the news. She took a step closer to him, wanting to touch his face gently, but she didn't, knowing that it might be inappropriate.

"Oh, well I'm glad you've gotten better," she said with concern in her voice. “But enough talking about me.. How have you been..?” he asked plainly.

They had their regular conversation, which, to an eavesdropper, would likely have been dull and uninteresting. Dutch talked about Evelyn Miller and his books, but Audrey didn't find the subject material particularly captivating. He also mentioned meeting her father at the ball, describing how well her father had a way with words when speaking his mind or giving opinions.

Audrey, in turn, talked about how her father enjoyed gambling. Despite their lengthy conversation in the park, they failed to notice that very few people were present. The ones who were still quite far away, but enough that they couldn't be seen.

As they both sat on the bench, with Audrey's dog resting near her feet, they shared a sweet, slow moment that felt like a fairytale for Audrey. She felt as if she had just met her soulmate, and for Dutch, he didn't feel anything in particular, but he did notice how she looked at him with so much admiration in her eyes.

"So, you mentioned that your father likes to gamble so much? How does he manage to keep such money to keep his family stable?" questioned Dutch, his tone laced with curiosity. He didn't mention at all how her father along with Bronte had told him about the money stashed at the trolley station, and he didn't like that one bit.

Being played like a fool and angered him, but he shouldn't blame Audrey for she wasn't aware of what had been happening in his life lately. "Yes, he still manages to find a way to keep some money to provide for us," Audrey answered, her tone suggesting that she didn't care to discuss her father at length.

Dutch couldn't help but notice that she seemed reluctant to talk about him, even though he had given her many gifts over the years. He made a mental note to tread carefully with the subject of her father in the future.

With the conversation hitting a standoff, Dutch decided he needed to make a move to get things going again. He thought for a moment and then acted, pushing a piece of hair back into place and carefully caressing her cheek with his hand, allowing it to linger there for a beat.

Audrey was shocked by his touch, but she pushed the thought aside. His hand felt rough to the touch, but she tried not to let it bother her. Dutch looked Audrey in the eyes, taking a deep breath before asking a daring question. "Have I ever told you that you are beautiful?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of flattery and determination.

It wasn't just about winning her over anymore; now he had to convince her to give him the money that he now knew her father wouldn’t give, He needed to persuade her without coming across as if he was using her. Audrey's face instantly flushed with a bright shade of crimson, her cheeks glowing with a warm blush.

Normally, when men paid her compliments, she would shrug it off and go about her day, feeling flustered and uncomfortable. However, with Dutch giving her this compliment, she felt like she had won the world. She suddenly felt important and special, her heart skipping a beat at the thought that someone valued her beauty so highly.

Audrey's eyes darted to the side, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Dutch. She felt suddenly shy and flushed, not knowing how to respond to this sweet compliment. But then Dutch took hold of her chin, gently forcing her to face him once more. Her heart skipped a beat as she was caught off guard by this sudden and tender gesture, and she felt a surge of flutters and nerves inside her chest. The excitement and anticipation she felt was overwhelming.

“Now there’s no reason to get so nervous now?” Dutch's smirk broadened as he took in the effect his words were having on Audrey. He was proud of himself for being able to manipulate her so well and put her into the position he wanted. He was so close to achieving his goal, and the thought of it was almost enough to make him burst with pride.

He just had to keep playing his cards right and the money would be his. Audrey hesitated for a moment before responding, feeling utterly flummoxed by her own reaction to his charm. She couldn't find the right words to say, so she resorted to the quickest one that came to mind: "I realized it's getting late. My parents must be wondering where I am." She rose from the bench, holding the leash for her dog, and offered Dutch a quick goodnight before leaving. As she walked home, mind occupied by the thoughts of their encounter, she found herself daydreaming about him.

Dutch's smirk stayed firmly in place as he watched Audrey leave, feeling like he was on top of the world. He had everything he wanted and felt like he was the best in the universe. His ego was on a high, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on that money. He knew he would only need to bide his time, and soon it would be his. The power he had over her was overwhelming, and he savored it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Audrey's mind raced with thoughts of yesterday's events, and she couldn't help but giggle with excitement. She kicked her feet with joy, imagining what it would be like to kiss Dutch's lips. She found herself deep in thought, unable to focus as she relived every moment of their encounter over and over. The thought of ever being with him filled her with such excitement that she couldn't contain it, especially knowing how close he had gotten to her yesterday. She was sure that this was the start of something great, and she couldn't wait to see where it would lead

Audrey was jarred from her thoughts by a knock at her door. She leaned up to see her mother walk in, her eyes filled with concern as she took in the giddy expression on Audrey's face. "Daughter," she said, sitting on the couch beside her bed, "if I may ask, why are you so…giddy?" Audrey's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she shifted her gaze away from her mother's piercing eyes, unsure of how to respond. She didn't want to give away her secret, but at the same time, she couldn't bear to disappoint her mother.

Audrey's gaze shifted away from her mother's intense stare, feeling embarrassed to have been caught in the middle of her giddy mood. "Oh, it's nothing, mother. I promise," she said with a smile, attempting to conceal the truth about her secret friend. She didn't want to disappoint her, so she tried her best to feign ignorance. However, her mother was far from convinced and simply looked at her with disbelief before shaking her head and leaving the room, wondering what her daughter was so giddy about.

Audrey stayed inside the house all day, left alone with only the butler who was in his office presumably working on other things. Suddenly, a loud knock on the door echoed through the house, catching Audrey by surprise. She approached the door to investigate, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected interruption. She reached for the doorknob and opened the door, unsure of what to expect on the other side. With such surprise it was him, Dutch. she blinked a couple of times before she spoke.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, confused. It's easy enough to find her house if you just ask a couple of people, but why is he here? She wondered.

“I noticed you hadn’t taken your daily walk, so I worried a little. Is it a bad time to be here?” he asked, a soft grin crossing his face.

Audrey looked at him with confusion and adoration, touched by how he had worried for her. His concern for her was reinforcing the beliefs she had developed for him over time. "No," she began, "it's not, but if my parents were home, they'd certainly be confused as to why you're here." She giggled slightly before opening the door wider to let him in.

As Dutch entered the home, his eyes took in the elaborate decorations. The house wasn't massive, but it was clearly the residence of someone with money, such as Audrey's family. Couches were placed against the walls, with paintings of ballet dancers or other random subjects hanging nearby. Some rooms even had grandfather clocks in the corner. It was clear that the family had a particular taste in interior design.

Audrey pointed out, "You came at a good time, actually. My parents are at a party, and our butler is busy in his office. He can't hear very well, so you don't need to worry about being caught being here." She was feeling nervous, given the fact that he was standing right in her home. She couldn't help but wonder what might happen and prayed for the best.

Dutch chuckled lightly and responded, "Oh, I'm not worried, sweetheart. I've handled worse…." He strolled around, taking in the room, then stopped and gazed at her. His eyes seemed to brim with admiration, or perhaps even desire or need. She couldn't quite decipher his intent.

"Can I get you anything?" Audrey inquired with a warm smile and kind tone as she approached Dutch, offering her assistance. Dutch politely declined, and they made their way to the sitting room, sitting on the soft couch next to each other in comfortable silence. The ticking of the clock reverberated in the background, adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Dutch noticed a piece of paper on the table, addressed to Audrey. His curiosity piqued, he asked, "What's that letter for? Some secret lover?" He offered the comment with a dark chuckle, turning back to her for her response. Audrey's eyes widened, and she hurriedly dismissed his suggestion by replying that she had no lover and the letter didn't concern him.

Dutch continued his line of questioning about the letter, disguising his true intent as a lighthearted banter. He acted as if he were merely joking, but deep down, he truly desired to know the contents of the letter. Audrey, giving in to the temptation, finally spoke about the letter's significance, revealing its importance to Dutch.

"There was an ad I found where the church asked for donations to feed those who couldn't afford to do so themselves," Audrey explained, detailing her generous gesture. "I sent a letter with a check for a thousand dollars - it's the best I could do. My parents were part of the effort to donate such a sum, meaning this letter is them thanking me." She wondered why he was so interested in knowing the contents of the letter, but she pushed the curiosity aside for now, determined not to make a fuss about it.

As she spoke, Dutch's eyes lit up with delight, amazed that Audrey could be so generous. He realized that he could explain his situation to her, hoping that she would understand and be willing to help. He then moved his body closer to her, carefully drawing her into his arms and cradling her close. He made certain that she was comfortable with his embrace before proceeding, ensuring that any physical contact was consensual and mutually desired.

Audrey inhaled sharply at the sudden turn of events, her heart pounding harder than ever before. She looked at Dutch directly in the eyes, and for a moment, she was rendered speechless. Dutch's charm had once again gotten the better of her, leaving her feeling vulnerable yet intrigued at the same time. She let her hands rest on his chest, taking comfort in his embrace.

Dutch spoke softly to her, "Not only are you beautiful, but you also have a kind heart. You are truly a gem among women." He then took one of his hands and gently caressed her cheek with care, making sure not to frighten or overwhelm her. He desired to keep her calm and at ease in his embrace, which he hoped she felt comfortable and safe in.

she noticed her head and his were slowly leaning into each other slowly, then in a blink of eye both of their lips touched. the taste of whiskey and cigars came off of him but she didn't mind it. her mind was going crazy on how carefully he was kissing her. with such passion. he now had both of his hands on her face holding her into the kiss more as her hands wrapped around his neck.

Audrey withdrew abruptly from him after several moments of sharing an intimate embrace, breathing heavily as she looked back to the clock on the wall behind them. Her face took on a blushing hue as she became flustered and shy, recognizing that this was her first-ever kiss. "My parents are probably on their way home; it's best you go now before they arrive," she spoke softly, trying to gather her thoughts and recover from the encounter.

Dutch left the house after taking one last look at Audrey, his expression soft as he contemplated what had just transpired. That very evening, he disclosed his plans to the gang, detailing his encounter with Audrey. Meanwhile, Audrey remained in her room, grinning with joy, as if she held a well-kept secret from everyone else. Her parents entered the home mere moments after Dutch had departed, inquiring as to why their daughter looked as if she were harboring something.

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

A week had elapsed since then, and Dutch had secretly made his way into Audrey's room on two separate occasions. During those visits, they spent time simply conversing, and there was even some kissing involved. However, he was confident that he had caught Audrey's interest, as she consistently displayed affection towards him, including during their current rendezvous. She sat beside him on the bed, leaning into Dutch with a playful smile on her face, awaiting his next move. Dutch was aware that the moment was ideal, and he thus prepared to ask her the question that weighed heavily on his mind.

"May I ask you something?" Dutch inquired, eyeing the wall decor that sported a floral motif. Audrey lifted her gaze from him to follow his line of vision to the flowers on the wallpaper. She nodded, inviting him to proceed with his inquiry.

"You likely have a fair idea of my identity and the actions I must take in order to sustain the safety of my gang-family," Dutch remarked, clenching his fist while resting it near his chest. "We have been running and hiding for years, and we are simply growing weary," he lamented, then shifting his gaze away from the wallpaper to face her. Dutch was finally prepared to broach the subject on his mind, looking towards Audrey expectantly.

Audrey lifted her head upwards as he continued to speak, her interest piqued by his revelations. Although she was well aware of his identity and the deeds he was known for, she couldn't bring herself to push him away. Audrey was too infatuated with Dutch, even despite her opposition to the violent nature of his gang's activities. She remained intent on listening to the rest of what he had to say, still seeking an understanding of the nuances of his situation.

Dutch expressed a sense of desperation as he implored her, "We are making efforts to save money in the hopes of permanently relocating to Tahiti. I was curious if you might be able to lend me financial assistance in this pursuit, my darling..." He held her hands between his own, kissing them softly and gently, demonstrating a clear plea in his eyes.

Audrey gasped upon hearing Dutch's plea for financial aid in leaving the country. She was concerned at the prospect of him leaving her behind, but before she could voice her opinions, Dutch began to speak again. "And I cannot bear the thought of leaving you here by yourself," he elaborated, planting a kiss on the back of her hand in an attempt to persuade her. "We can become an item, my cherished," he declared, continuing to try and convince her of the merits of his proposal.

Audrey's eyes lit up as she listened to Dutch's assurance that he would take her with him to Tahiti. She yearned for a simple life, and the thought of being loved by a man who adored her greatly was exactly what she desired. She expressed her gratitude and acceptance of his offer, expressing her worries of what her life would have been like without him. Audrey hugged him tightly, grateful to have found a companion who cherished her and intended to share a life with her.

Dutch exuded a sinister expression as Aubrey embraced him, aware that he had achieved ultimate success. He realized that all he needed was the money she possessed, and he could leave the country with confidence, finding safety for himse- his gang and him with ease. Once he acquired the means, he could flee without any impediment, and his path to Tahiti would be paved without resistance.

"You have my utmost gratitude, my dear," Dutch declared, placing a kiss on her forehead, and then swiftly making his way out of her bedroom, making certain not to draw undue attention to himself. Audrey promptly returned to her bed, eager to ensure that the funds were at his disposal by the start of the following day. She allowed herself to drift off to sleep with anticipation, wondering if they would make new friends once they touched down in Tahiti.

~~~~~~~~~~

On the following morning, Audrey awoke early, and hastily proceeded to the bank, having made a firm decision to gather the necessary funds to support Dutch's plans of leaving the country. Walking down the city streets, she then reached the Cathedral and noticed him approaching her with a sense of satisfaction and pridefulness. His weapons seemed to glitter in the morning sunlight, and he exuded an air of confidence as he confidently moved towards her.

Audrey's hand swiftly moved upwards, and she placed bills of money in Dutch's hand, who eagerly took hold of them without even hesitating. A feeling of joy washed over Dutch's features, and he flashed a satisfied grin in her direction. "You have done splendidly, my dear," he complimented before adding, "I possess pressing duties to carry out, but I will return to you as soon as possible to finalize our escape." He then nodded to her and proceeded to disappear into the alleys, eager to get started with his preparations.

A day later…….

two days….

three going onto weeks.

As the days passed, Audrey had not heard from Dutch. Her worries began to consume her, and she soon harbored a strong sense of uncertainty, considering that he had perhaps simply abandoned her, leaving without a trace. She was heartbroken at the idea of being cheated and made a mockery of, having granted him a hefty amount of money only to have her hopes shattered. Audrey cried into her pillow, her sorrow compounded by her parents' scolding once they learned about the financial situation she was in.

In time, she was left alone to stew in her emotions of anger and disappointment, incapable of finding any means to vent or relieve her anguish. She felt like she was left in the dark, and the realization of the broken promise and broken heart became too much for her, leaving her with a myriad of feelings that she struggled to express.

he had broken his promise….

[ilbound]

@saiakv has requested a story : ❰❰ PIN ❱❱ sender pins receiver during a fight/training  ( for verona ♥ )

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

Through the ages , up until rather recently , the Valhyr clan was INFAMOUS for its cursed techniques , for the powerful progeny it produced.  These women sought p e r f e c t i o n in their craft , but in turn , near-completely neglected other necessary areas of a proper training regime.  Many of them , even the council and foremothers ( namely the matriarchs ) , did not endeavor to teach their rising generations much in the way of combat ( tell me , what use is learning a man’s art of brawling sport , when we can simply dismantle an opponent from the mind outwards ? they questioned , conceited & all too set in their ways ) .  And it soon became apparent that Verona made for a prime example of such ; for all her training , for all the resources granted unto her as a ‘ prodigal daughter ’ , she had very little understanding of TRUE BATTLE beyond demonstrations of barbaric force and slaughter.

She confessed , of course , to Suguru , outright admitting to her vanity.  There’s no use for it , she had told him in passing , I need it not , for no man withstands the maw of a woman ripping his throat and uprooting his mind.

A challenge it was not.  At least , she did not THINK it was , until he countered the supposed gauntlet with one of his own : an offer to put her mettle to the test , to train her and allow her the ability to learn something new.  After all , who’s to say you cannot teach an old dog new tricks ?  Even if this particular breed be especially s t u b b o r n .

Not one to be outdone , she accepted ( though the instant the words left her mouth , she could tell it was a mistake , it was a losing battle & one she did not know whether she was prepared to face ) .

It made for a quick enough fight.  For as strategic as Verona is , her attacks were all ferocity , all brute force and none of the marked precision necessary to keep pace with someone who knew better.  Every strike is easily parried , easily countered and thwarted , her erratic savagery becoming as predictable as any predator being backed into a corner and growing increasingly f l u s t e r e d .

This is not the first time Verona has been confronted with the severe neglect in education which has left her straggling behind others.  But it IS the first time she has been shown it so d i r e c t l y , by someone she holds trust and respect for.  She is not sure what is it that wounds her more ; her fraying composure in the face of own fallacy , or the fact a MAN has gotten the better of her , laying her out on her back and pinning her there on the mat.  Breathless , grasping for some semblance of control over the situation ( not that the knowing smile curling suguru’s lips helps her any ) , Verona groans softly , claws digging furrows at her sides in f r u s t r a t i o n , sharp teeth bared and form tense as if to spring once more.  Fighting is typically so SIMPLE for her , and now this ⸺ O' how the mighty do fall !  Literally , in this case , left there scowling up at her companion with ire writ plainly upon her features.

Scorn soon fades as she expels a sigh , eyes rolling.  ❝ Yes , fine , very good , ❞ Verona drawls sardonically , though her biting tone does nothing to hide the b a r e s t twinge of praise hidden beneath , ❝ Would you like me to say you are the better of us ?  Afraid my pride’ll not allow it. ❞  Mistake her not , there is an affection there , an admiration for his skill over her own.  After a moment she adds , ❝ Anyone ever tell you you HIT LIKE A GIRL ? ❞  Odd as it is , this is a c o m p l i m e n t , given her heritage and sense of superiority.  ❝ And I must confess , I am not much used to this view , ❞ Being beneath anyone , she means.  Her head tilts , painted lips twisting into her usual coquettish little smile , ❝ I suppose I might be convinced to enjoy it , though. ❞

[legiopraesagio]

Well, I’ve finished reading Echoes of Eternity and I have something to say.

First, it’s a great book, and I don’t mean it’s just good or interesting. I mean “great” like the Great Crusade or the Great War (but in a good way, of course).

I saw a comment on the internet that says that Aaron Dembski-Bowden “makes a mistake of cramming too much stuff in a single book”.

Yes, there’s a lot of stuff in it. And it all is brilliant.

The Blood Angels Legion (and Nassir Amit personal) prehistory. Kargos and Amit, their past friendship and their grievous present. Both their duels. Kargos POV being SO poetic, though it’s a poetry of decay, and destruction, and madness, and - unanticipated display of emotions so strong and so human. I read their first duel with tears in my eyes, and it was just the first time I cried (the second was after Angron and Sanguinius fight, and the third - reading Guilliman’s letter. Yes, I’m sentimental too, thanks, Lotara).

And there’s so much more. What a great character is Transacta-7Y1. She is barely human, but in fact she is so relatable, so plain, and honest, and faithful. And I like her relationships with Arkhan Land, whose POV is one of the best, and Land’s relationships with Zephon. Oh, and have you seen one of her chapter’s name? A Curious Choice of Emissary! It sounds almost autistic, so suitable for a cyborg. In fact, it reminded me of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, and I’m sure ADB called it this on purpose.

Sanguinius. How did ADB manage to write him so human and so perfect, so mighty and vulnerable at the same time? So righteous and so doubting. So worth of compassion. I always thought of him with some wryness, but now I love him. And knowing his secret love to "those who struggle to reach the perfection the others take for granted", I know the Great Angel loves us back.

And Vulkan, made of pure cardboard in other books, he became alive for me after the final episode with Magnus. So full of self-rightness and so wrong. Just like all of us sometimes.

I like Lotara’s chapters less, but in any other BL author’s book, they might be the best part of it. They are bleak only compared to those I’ve written of above.

So, I think we’re watching right now how ADB becomes a great writer (“great” like in “Alexander the Great” or “Charles the Great”). And, Slaanesh bless me, I need his shirtless photo (for a friend, of course).

[transient-ichor]

To be a the hero, what a terrible curse. It addles the mind, corrupts the body and infects the soul. Each God only chooses one hero to defend their might and glory. When the hero is chosen they practically become a minor deity. Some of these heros become beasts of burden unable or unwilling to speak only to tend the fields, watch the animals and put hammer to anvil day after day. Others are machines of death and destruction their armor adhered to their skin their weapons grafted to what used to be a hand, all from many years of battle and no rest. The heros that are chosen by the gods of the common man, the blacksmiths and those who tend the fields are viewed and treated as draft animals. Ones that never die nor need food or drink of course. However those who were chosen by the gods of war and death are avoided until they are needed. Those battle hardened heros, their stench unbearable. What they look like wasn't mush better despite their immortality they do not heal unless it is required to serve their duty. Thus their skin is decayed and rotting their hair in matted clumps the only thing still keeping their organs in their ches being the armor that never seems to show decay. I remember when I met him, the servant of the God of War. His name now long forgotten the remnants of his hand gripped the blade tightly and fiercely as if expecting a battle any moment. Yet when he, or she I could not tell, turned to face me I saw a great sorrow in their eyes. It wasn't that of a dog's sorrow or that of a horse but a genuine human sorrow. So in that moment I did what no one else had ever done. I approached them and asked if I could provide for them a place to rest remove their armor in peace and eat. Their voice horse and guttural from the many eons of shouting orders and screaming in pain replied.

"Yes, I would like that very much" so that's what I did. I led them to my home and prepared them a room with a pot of stew, five loaves of bread a bushel of apples and some jam for them as well as a bed and some regular clothes.

It took them 7 days to come out of that room for the first time. They no longer donned their armor but a simple tunic and leather breeches I had left ac them miraculously their skin had returned albeit scabed and flakey. I could also tell that they had once beautiful golden hair and gorgeous green eyes. They said they need to walk for a bit so while they walked and felt the warm sun on their skin I cleaned and restocked the room they stayed in. All the food had been eaten yet their sword stayed grafted unto their hand. When they returned I asked then if I could help them try and remove it. Astounded they said yes and we went to work. It took us 4 hours and much screaming and loss of blood but it was finally removed and their hand bandaged. They went back to their room to eat or sleep and I look the sword to wash it and remove the skin that had binded to the leather.

When the champion of the God of War had recovered they look like a normal human. Once again they had donned theuir armor and had their blade in the scabbard upon their back they carried a new pack I had obtained for them, it had food and a sleeping pack as well as some medical items and clothes, just in case. they thanked me and left.

A day later I awoke to a messenger of the gods, I was offered the title and task "hero of heros", I refused. Not only did I refuse but I told the messenger to tell the oh so "great and mighty" parthenon of the gods. "Even though I refuse your title I will take care of the heros because I am human".

The Divine blessing of “Hero” granted by the gods is one of the worst kinds of mind control, slowly destroying the personality of the blessed individual. You are the only one who is able to look at the “Hero” and see them as a person rather than a living weapon and offer them comfort.

[luckyduckwrites]

New To Equestria

Chapter 1-15: A Dog and Pony Show

Fandom: My Little Pony, My Little Pony Generation 4: Friendship Is Magic (Cartoon 2010), My Little Pony Generation 4: Equestria Girls (Cartoon 2013)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Applejack (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)/Original Character(s), Applejack/Original Pony Character(s) (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), Applejack/original

Characters: Applejack (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), Twilight Sparkle (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), Pinkie Pie (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), Rarity (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), Fluttershy (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), Rainbow Dash (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), Original Female Character(s), Original Pony Character(s) (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, POV First Person, POV Female Character, Original Character-centric, Trauma, Canon Autistic Character, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Friends to Lovers

Summary:

My name is Scarlette Melody. I was born on Earth, and pushed into a statue outside my high school. I woke up as a unicorn in another world! A pony named Princess Celestia found me. I explained my situation to her, and she let me stay at her castle until the portal re-opened, but I like this world a lot more than my old world. I became friends with Celestia's star pupil Twilight Sparkle, and I was sent with her to Ponyville for the Summer Sun Celebration, where I met familiar ponies. I had never met them before, but they reminded me of my friends at school in my world, even sharing the same names and personalities! We soon became became the Elements of Harmony, and I'm the element of Empathy.

**AO3 & Wattpad links in masterpost pinned to the top of the blog**

A/N: I'm skipping Stare Master and The Show Stoppers because they're both CMC episodes.

All of us were having a picnic when Spike runs toward us. That's weird. Shouldn't he be with Rarity gathering gems and jewels for that famous singer Sapphire Shores' gem-studded dress order?

He pants as he cries out, "Rarity... woods... jewels... dogs... hole... taken... save her!"

He has to take a few minutes to catch his breath, because that was just gibberish. Like an even harder version of charades.

Twilight asks once her scaly assistant isn't wheezing anymore, "Spike, can you breathe now?"

Spike says, "Yes... I think so."

Twilight says, "Good. Now tell us what you know."

Rainbow says, "Yeah, 'cause all you said earlier was..."

I add, "Unintelligible."

Applejack adds, "Not a whole lot to go on there, sport."

Spike says, "Sorry. Rarity and I were in the woods looking for jewels when these creepy guys showed up."

I ask, "Creepy guys?"

Spike adds, "They called themselves the Diamond Dogs."

Ugh, those guys. I remember their pack at school. They'd steal valuables from others, but they'd wait hand and foot for Rarity. Why would they take her? And more importantly, where?

I ask, "Where did they take her?"

Spike responds, "They grabbed Rarity and disappeared down a hole in the ground."

Applejack says, "Well, this sounds mighty easy. Just take us to that there hole and we'll save Rarity."

He leads us to the spot where he last saw Rarity, and we all gasp at the dozens, if not hundreds, of holes.

Pinkie exclaims, "Holy moly, that's a lotta holeys."

Twilight says, "Come on, girls! Let's get started." She shoves her head into one of the holes, calling out, "Hello?"

We hear a growl before the hole is filled in. We all jump towards more holes, all of them getting filled in before we can reach them. Geez, these Diamond Dogs are fast.

Pinkie spits out a mouthful of dirt, and Twilight exclaims, "Quick! We've gotta get down one before they're all filled up!"

Fluttershy mutters, "Oh! Oh, my. Oh, oh!"

Applejack adds, "We can't muscle through it!"

Rainbow says, "We'll see about that."

She flies high in the air and dives down toward an open hole, but gasps and barely stops herself when the hole is filled in.

Applejack sighs, saying, "Whew. Heavens to Betsy. Now, I'm used to pickin' myself up and dustin' myself off, but Rarity won't even touch mud 'less it's imported.

Twilight's face drops, muttering, "Oh, Rarity..."

I imagine her being locked up in a small cage with a rusted door, and she's constantly trying to escape from the cave's dirt.

I say, "We've got to save her!"

Fluttershy says, "But they blocked up all the holes."

Applejack says, "Don't mean we can't dig 'em out. Come on!"

We all try to dig through the covered up holes, but we're shoved out by large dogs, taller than any pony I've ever seen, and Rainbow exclaims, "Get 'em!"

We end up playing a game of Whack a Mole with the Diamond Dogs, and they're winning, dodging us effortlessly as they duck back into their holes.

Fluttershy says, "All those scary monsters popping up everywhere. Oh, poor Rarity must be terrified."

Now I'm imagining the Diamond Dogs harassing the off-white unicorn for her valuables.

Twilight says, "Poor Rarity."

I ask, "What are we gonna do? Those dogs are just playing with us at this point!"

Spike exclaims, "I've got it!" He pulls out a large blue gem the color of Rarity's eyes, muttering to the gem, "I'll save you, my sweet."

The rest of us ask in mild concern, "Huh?"

Twilight says, "Spike, it is very noble of you-" The dragon shushes her, and she whispers the rest of her sentence, "To sacrifice the gem Rarity gave you."

Spike ties the gem to fishing pole and dangles it above the only open hole, muttering, "Oh, Lady Rarity. My damsel in distress."

He starts zoning out and mumbling to himself, likely having a fantasy where he saves Rarity, and now his eyes are closed, kissing the air right next to Applejack.

She chuckles, saying, "Whoa - ho there, lover boy."

His eyes snap open, and he turns his head away from her, his face flushing in embarrassment as we all giggle at him. The gem he's dangling above the hole starts getting tugged at, and he exclaims, "Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! I got a bite! I got a bite!"

He's about to fall in the hole when Applejack grabs his tail in her teeth, saying, "Hold on there, little fella."

Applejack starts falling too, and Twilight grabs her tail, Rainbow grabbing Twilight's tail, exclaiming, "Twilight!"

Fluttershy grabs Rainbow's tail, muttering, "Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness."

I grab Fluttershy's tail, and Pinkie exclaims excitedly, "Wait for me!"

She excitedly jumps into the hole, pushing us all along the winding tunnel, being pulled by whoever, or whatever, is pulling Spike's gem.

We're finally dumped in a large cavern with many tunnels branching off of it, and Spike exclaims, "It worked! We're in! Now we can finally save Rarity!"

I ask, "Um... which way do we go?"

Spike yells out, "Nooooooooooo!"

Twilight says, "All these tunnels... how are we ever gonna find Rarity?"

Applejack responds, "Guess we're just gonna have to start going down them one by one."

Rainbow exclaims, "That could take forever!"

I add, "There's got to be a way to narrow it down."

Spike exclaims, "I know! I bet they've taken Rarity down the tunnel with the most gems."

Twilight says, "But Spike, Rarity is the only one who knows how to find gems."

Spike says, "No, Twilight. You can! You can copy Rarity's gem-finding spell!"

Twilight exclaims, "Oh, my gosh! You're right! Rarity showed me how she did it a while back. If I can just remember..."

She closes her eyes to concentrate, and there are a few gems in the walls of the tunnels, but one tunnel has way more gems than the other tunnels and one is nearly empty.

Spike exclaims, "That's it! You did it, Twilight! Come on!"

Befoe we can go down that tunnel, I exclaim, "Wait!" They all stop and look at me, and I say, "If they took her for her gem-finding abilities, wouldn't she be in the tunnel with the least hidden gems since they've already gotten the gems?"

Twilight exclaims, "You're right, Scarlette!"

Spike calls out as we run down the tunnel, "We're coming, Rarity! We'll save you! Just hold on!"

We run along the tunnel for what feels like an hour, and Twilight says, "We're getting close. I can feel it."

Rarity's loud wails echo against the cavern wall, and Spike says, "It's coming from down here. Come on!"

Twilight adds, "Good instincts, Scarlette!"

Rainbow adds, "She must be in there. Let's go!"

Giant dogs land on us from tunnels above, one saying, "More workhorses."

They tie rope around our muzzles and pull the ropes secure behind our heads like horses in my world.

Applejack says, "Ho, doggies. If you can take this bull by the horns, you'd better be ready for a ride. Come on, ponies! Kick 'em up, kick 'em out! Buck 'em up, buck 'em down!"

The dogs yowl and whine as we kick our hind legs out, bucking them off.

Applejack exclaims as the dogs run, "Yeehaw! Get along, little doggies!"

We pull our reins off as Spike mutters, "I'm coming for you, milady." He hops on Twilight's back and grabs her reins, exclaiming, "Hi-ho, Twilight! Away!"

She asks him angrily, "And just what do you think you're doing?"

Spike says, "Please, Twilight. Just give me this."

Twilight rolls her eyes, saying, "Eh... fine."

She rears up and neighs, and we all run toward where we heard Rarity.

We burst into the room, Spike exclaims, "Lady Rarity, I'm here to save you!"

I add, "We're all here for you, Rares!"

We're confused when it's not Rarity crying out in anguish, but the Diamond Dogs.

They cry out, "Save us!" "Please, save us!" "Make it stop!" "Please!"

Twilight asks, "Excuse me?"

They complain, "So picky." "And critical." "She won't stop talking." "And crying." "We, uh, give her back. Yes."

We run up to a casual Rarity, Spike exclaiming, "Rarity! You're safe!"

Rarity says, "Why, yes." She turns her attention to us ponies, adding, "Hello, girls. You've arrived just in time to assist me."

Applejack asks, "Assist you with what?"

Rarity gestures at 7 huge carts piled high with gems and jewels, responding, "With those."

Spike asks, salivating at the sight of Rarity's spoils, "You're letting her leave with all these... jewels?"

One Diamond Dogs responds, "Yes. Take them. And her with them!"

Another desperately adds, "Please!"

We each take a cart and find our way out of the cave and back into sunlight.

Pinkie exclaims, "I can't believe you found all these gems!"

Rainbow chuckles, adding, "I can't believe you tricked all those dogs."

I smile, adding, "And without a single scratch or spec of dirt on you."

Rarity says, "Just because I'm a lady doesn't mean I cannot handle myself in a sticky situation. I had them wrapped around my hoof the entire time."

Twilight says, "I can't wait to write to Princess Celestia to tell her what you taught me today."

Rarity asks, "Me? What did I teach you?"

Twilight responds, "Just because somepony is ladylike doesn't make her weak. In fact, by using her wits, a seemingly defenseless pony can be the one who outsmarts and outshines them all."

Spike sits atop Rarity's cart, his mouth dripping saliva as he stares at the gem in his hand, saying, "Hm... 'Outshines' is right. now you have enough gems to cover Sapphire Shores' costumes."

He eats a few gems, and Rarity says, "Not if you eat them all, Spike!"

We laugh, dropping off the carts at Rarity's boutique so she can get to work.