December Fanfic Recs!

Pixar’s Luca director Enrico Casarosa shares his very own recipe for the Trenette al Pesto featured in the movie. ⁣

turn back time, to the good old days

✢summary: a curse hits megumi and gojo reacts accordingly

✢tags: fushiguro megumi and gojo satoru, nobara pov

✢tw: child abandonment issues?

✢a/n: lets all take a break from whatever the fuck gege akutami has been recently writing. i hope I did dad gojo justice.

Nobara knows she’s fucked as soon as she sees Fushiguro disappear. Her eyes watch in mild horror as her classmate shrinks so quickly until all that is left of him is his uniform.

Itadori was the first to react, shouting a panicked “Fushiguro!” before running towards the pile of clothes.

The door to Shoko-san’s infirmary burst open, revealing an irritated Nobara, followed by Itadori who still had baby Fushiguro in his arms. The child had stopped crying after they passed school gates- maybe he recognized jujutsu tech?- and had settled for wet sniffles instead. Nobara has never seen Fushiguro so pathetic.

Shoko-san was, unsurprisingly, seated behind her desk with papers. She looked at them at the sound of her doors opening, but before she could even talk, Gojo-sensei appeared out of nowhere with his signature annoying grin. 

“Yoho~ how did the mission go? I’m sure it went well. I taught you everything you know!”

Nobara could feel her face morphing into an automatic frown. Things were hectic enough as it is, and she didn’t want this moron to ruin baby Fushiguro’s mood any further. They had just endured an hour-and-a-half car ride with a panicked Fushiguro, who insisted on being unconsolable and crying the entire ride back. She just came from a grueling mission. She was sure some of baby Fushiguro’s saliva, and snot landed in her somehow, and if this grandpa-looking sensei of hers made things even worse, she might explode.

“Eh? Megumi?” Gojo sensei asked in confusion after finally noticing the significantly smaller boy. Gojo Satoru’s gaze looks blankly at Itadori’s arms where a smaller Fushiguro is being carried.

As if on cue, Fushiguro breaks out in a full-on wail and cries louder than he ever did in the car.

Nobara already had her trusty hammer in hand, ready to smack the living hell out of her sensei, until she noticed Fushiguro desperately wiggling out of Itadori’s grasp. Both Nobara and Itadori share a confused look before her classmate puts baby Fushiguro down. 

As soon as his bare feet touched the cold, sterile floor of the infirmary, Nobara watched in awe as Fushiguro dashed away from them as quickly as he could. It was almost comical how fast he managed to get his tiny feet to run quickly. If this was a cartoon, a cloud of smoke would have been left in his trail. 

With his hands out open and eyes wet with a flood of tears, baby Fushiguro rushed to Gojo-sensei, who, to Nobara and Itadori’s surprise, was already squatting down for the boy with arms spread out. Gojo caught Fushiguro easily, one big hand immediately going behind Fushiguro’s head and the other on his back. 

“Why did you leave me?” The boy wails, crying on their sensei’s shoulder. “I woke up, and I d-didn’t know where I w-was! You promised never to do that! You promised!” 

Fushiguro’s voice cracks at the end of his accusation, and Gojo’s face crumples in a rare show of vulnerability. He shifts, both hands going under Fushiguro’s armpits as Gojo stands. Small, chubby fingers tug his blindfold down, and Gojo-sensei’s blue eyes stare almost lovingly at the crying child with concern. Fushiguro clings to him as if his life depended on it, his tiny fists clenching their sensei’s uniform. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” Gojo-sensei coos, swaying slightly from side to side. Gojo makes sure Fushiguro is looking at him before making a show of slapping his hand on his forehead. “Stupid Gojo-san, he forgot his most precious ‘Gumi! What am I going to do?”

Nobara’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Gojo-sensei seemed to have done everything with ease as their baby-fied classmate was now calming down in his arms. 

“I’m not precious to you at all, so stop calling me that!” Fushiguro seethes and pulls the angriest scowl he can muster. But then, with another quieter and sadder voice, he reminds Gojo of his previous accusation. “You left.”

“I didn’t leave you,” Gojo corrects him in a softer tone of voice. His hand reaches up to Fushiguro and smoothes out his spiky hair as the child looks at him with slight distrust. The small boy has stopped wailing. Nobara has never seen her sensei so tender. “Haven’t left you ever since I got you.”

Nobara blinks. Since he got- what is going on? She opens her mouth to speak but stops as a quiet voice asks Gojo a question.

“But you will?” Fushiguro asks with his pitch high, threatening another onslaught of tears.

Gojo shakes his head without hesitation. “No,” he insists.

Fushiguro looks at their sensei in distrust, internally debating if he should believe him. His blue eyes shine as he peeks through his lashes to look at Gojo’s unwavering gaze. He asks with a quiet and unsure voice, “Even when I’m bad?”

“Even then,” Gojo answers easily. Fushiguro’s shoulders visibly relax, and he lets himself melt on Gojo’s chest. The older sorcerer puts back a cheery tone as soon as he notices Fushiguro calms down. “Fellow sorcerers brought you back to me, right? And look!” He shifts Megumi towards Shoko-san’s direction. “Aunt Ieiri is here!”

A small smile appears on Shoko-san’s face as baby Fushiguro waves shyly embarrassed that she has seen him throw a tantrum. Nobara thinks it’s her first time seeing her smile. But then Shoko-san glances back at them, and the smile disappears.

Somehow, Nobara feels a little guilty. She knows she probably intruded in a scene meant for Gojo and Fushiguro…whatever they are. But it’s not like she had a choice! 

Shoko sighs. “Alright, you two,” she ushers them away with a few flicks of her wrist. “We’ll take it from here.”

Gojo-sensei’s head snaps in their direction, so engrossed with Fushiguro that he almost forgot Nobara and Itadori were still in the room. His blue eyes feel like a spotlight, piercing through them threateningly.

The air feels heavy and almost suffocating, and Nobara feels her shackles rise as her hand twitches for her hammer. It took her a while to realize that the pressure was Gojo-sensei’s cursed energy. Nobara’s instincts whisper at her to run. 

Behind her, Itadori reads the situation first and bows in a hurry. He is as likely ready to change out of his snot-filled uniform as she is as eager to escape their deranged sensei. “See you later, Gojo-sensei! Bye-bye Fushiguro!”

Itadori snatches Nobara’s hand just as she finishes her clumsy bow. As she lightly runs to her dorms, the thought of a fresh shower chases away any lingering thoughts of what happened.

-

Gojo feels as though he has traveled back in time. He is frozen in both shock and awe as Megumi, once a tall, lanky, and cranky teenager, has been reduced to a barely four-foot-tall child, his eyes streaming with tears at the sight of him.

As if on instinct, Gojo dropped down to his height- a very helpful tip he read from one of those parenting books he read in a panic after he realized he was the textbook definition of a teen dad- and opened his arms. 

He sees Megumi sprint, and Gojo has been in this situation a few times before to know that Megumi was about to launch him a rare hug. Not even a moment later, Megumi was all over him. His hands immediately wrap around the boy.

Gojo knows that he is acting on pure selfishness. He knows something is wrong. For one, Megumi is tiny, and second, his Six Eyes sense a lingering feel of foreign cursed energy. He knows he should be more concerned, checking if his students are alright, but Megumi is sobbing in his arms like he used to a decade ago. In his accumulated knowledge of him, Gojo knows that Megumi is a shy boy, and it takes a lot for him to openly demand his affection and comfort. Gojo is more than happy to deliver. 

He caresses Megumi’s hair, and Gojo ignores the way his heart sings. He hasn’t seen this Megumi in a long time, and the boy has long refused his affection. 

Before Gojo could ask him what was wrong, Megumi’s watery voice echoes throughout Ieiri’s infirmary. “Why did you leave me?” He cries, “I woke up, and I d-didn’t know where I w-was! You promised never to do that! You promised!”

Ah, Gojo thinks as he feels his heart ache. He knows what this is. Megumi has spent most of his early life witnessing too many people come and leave. If he was correct, which he always ways, Megumi has regressed back in age and memory. Gojo couldn’t help but wonder how he must have felt when he awoke with many unfamiliar people. He knows Megumi assumed he had left him then, just like everyone else. 

Gojo lifts Megumi with him as he stands, a hand going under his thighs to support the small boy. Megumi tugs down his blindfold, and Gojo lets him. He does not even realize he’s already swaying Megumi from side to side. His body still remembers how to soothe him.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Gojo says in an admonishing tone before dramatically slapping his forehead. “Stupid Gojo-san, he forgot his most precious ‘Gumi! What am I going to do?”

He does not mind playing the fool for Megumi’s state of mind. When he assumed guardianship over Megumi and his sister, Gojo thought of his role as a simple one. He is their benefactor, one that comes over on a rare weekend to leave money for the Fushiguros to sustain themselves. But one weekend turned into two, and Gojo found himself craving the noise and warmth of the Fushiguro household. 

“I’m not precious to you at all, so stop calling me that!”

Oh, how could he even comprehend what he meant to him? Has he forgotten how Gojo learned how to cook to make onigiri-shaped divine dogs for his daily bento? Has he forgotten the movie nights spent on the couch sandwiched between him and Tsumiki? Did he not remember those nights Megumi knocked on his door at night, scared to sleep in his room because his Tsumiki-nee-san was in camp? The animal band-aids? The glow-in-the-dark stickers stuck in his room ceiling?

Gojo watches as Megumi sniffs, eyes darting away from his gaze. His grip on Gojo’s uniform falters. “You left me.”

“I would never leave you,” he says. A memory intrudes his mind with a Megumi similar to this one in front of him. He was angry, his face red with rage, as he hit little fists, landing soft punches on Gojo’s stomach. Gojo didn’t mean to come home late. “Haven’t left you ever since I got you.”

Instead of being relieved, he could have felt Megumi’s heartbreak. He breathes shakily and asks in a tone that tries to conceal his panic and anger- “But you will?”

Gojo shakes his head without hesitation. “No,” he insists.

Fushiguro looks at him in distrust, internally debating whether to believe him. His blue eyes shine as he peeks through his lashes to look at Gojo’s unwavering gaze. He asks with a quiet and unsure voice, “Even when I’m bad?”

Gojo thinks of his almost weekly meetings with Megumi’s high school as he beats other students in a pulp. He thinks of Megumi stretching his arms out, curling his hands to fists, ready to resign himself to a certain death.

“Even then,” he whispers to the boy like it was their little secret. He makes his voice loud and cheery as Gojo exclaims his next words. “Fellow sorcerers brought you back to me, right? And look!” He shifts Megumi towards Shoko-san’s direction. “Aunt Ieiri is here!”

Megumi avoids her gaze and stares at her pristine white coat instead. He offers her a small wave, and Gojo watches as Ieiri gives a him gentle smile. 

A wave of appreciation rolls over him as he realizes that Megumi has as many memories of her as he does with him. Gojo feels so stupid when he thinks about the moments when he thought he was lonely. He had two people in this room who loved him as much as he did them. Then, for a brief moment, his brain scolds him for not remembering his precious little girl who loves him infinitely even when asleep. He hopes she’ll wake soon.

“Alright, you two. We’ll take it from here.”

Immediately, Gojo freezes in panic. His instinct sets his Infinity to engulf Megumu and Ieiri. His next thought was- how did they sneak up on me? Gojo panics as he realizes they have seen him cradling Megumi, consoling him with all the gentleness he could muster. They have witnessed his weakness. They have already taken one from him, and Gojo would be damned if anyone takes another child.

His Six Eyes snap at the two intruders, and it takes him—oh, it’s his students. And they are already half-running towards the door. 

As soon as the infirmary doors shut to a close, Gojo feels the heated gaze of his friend. 

“You didn’t have to scare them like that,” she scolds. “Now they’ll have more questions after Fushiguro’s back to normal.”

Gojo does feel a vague sense of guilt. He didn’t mean to have his students feel threatened by him. He was just caught unaware for the first time in a long time. It didn’t help that Megumi suddenly became smaller and more affectionate, reminding him of precious memories. His brain had thought there was a Fushiguro Toji-level threat like it does every time someone close comes to him without noticing.

“It’ll fade away in a few hours or days, by the way,” Shoko murmurs, her hands going for a cigarette. “He’ll be back to normal in a few. But you already knew that.”

Gojo slaps her hand before she even reaches a cigarette. Shoko takes one look at Megumi and sighs. She takes in the sight before her.

“Feeling sentimental?” She asks.

Gojo hugs Megumi a little tighter. He closes his eyes and lets himself hold the child. Gojo breathes in his scent and relishes the feeling of his child in his arms. He feels Megumi’s spiky hair softly poking his neck, his warmth; he faintly smells Megumi’s childhood shampoo. He feels Megumi squeeze back. “Let me have this.”

Teenage Megumi would never let him hug him with this much vulnerability, which was fine. Gojo loves teenage Megumi as much as he loves this child version of him, but he rarely asks for him anymore. It makes Gojo feel silly to reminisce like he’s past 50 years old when he’s just 27, but in his humble and correct opinion- he was a teenage dad. 

“Never do that again,” Megumi scolds him, voice a little muffled.  “I’ll hate you if you do. I’ll hate you. I will.” Each word spoken was more determined after the next, bringing another smile to Gojo’s face. They both know Megumi does not mean it. They both know Gojo would never leave him. Not willingly. 

lmk what you think! i'd love to hear comments, your thoughts and whatever this fic made you feel. i'd also appreciate constructive criticism <33

Luca by Lorenzo Fresta

Odysseus: *gently hands Athena baby Telemachus*

Athena: …you were PREGNANT AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME?!

Odysseus: what?- no-

Athena: DO YOU KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS?! I WAS TRAINING YOU!

Odysseus: no I wasn’t the one-

Athena: THAT POOR BOY WAS PROBABLY SO SQUISHED IN YOUR HELMET! LOOK AT HOW SMALL HE IS!!

Like Honey | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, alcohol, tipsy!reader, squirting, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk!Sakusa, overstimulation, praise kink, bit of pussy slapping ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Kiyoomi Sakusa hates parties. 

Too many people. 

Too loud. 

Too many germs. 

It’s why he almost always declines to go to one whenever the rest of the MSBY team invites him along. 

Parties in any shape and form make him uncomfortable, to be honest. 

But what Sakusa hates more than parties themselves—is the idea of you going to one on your own without him there. 

Not that he doesn’t trust you. 

But it’s that he knows how volleyball players are at parties—especially when there’s a pretty girl and alcohol is involved. 

Hence, the reason why he finds himself at a house party tonight that Atsumu invited the two of you to—while he stands away from everyone else, mask on, and holding a drink that he’s taken maybe one or two sips from. 

Not because he wants to but—

But because there you are—in the crowd, giggling and drinking with a few other people—and he watches with a level of affection, only ever giving any other guy who even dares to touch you a single look that causes the hairs at the back of their neck to rise. 

He talks to a few friends here and there, laughs, and takes another drink to loosen up as much as he’s willing to allow himself, but his eyes remain on you—

Almost protective. 

He raises a brow when he notices you walking over to him—but all you do is grin, eyes droopy, as your lower lip gets pinched under your top teeth, and—

Oh. 

He lets out a huff of breath filled with amusement when he sees you bat your lashes at him, giving him a certain look that he knows too well whenever you have alcohol in your system. 

A look of want—need—with your eyes so murky with desire that if you looked at any other man like that, they’d probably take you to the nearest surface to bend you over and—

Well, you get the point. 

Sakusa turns to face you—looking down at you with a tease in his voice. “The alcohol already gotten to that pretty little brain of yours?” 

Your eyes grow alight with want, and your cheeks flush as you get closer to him to wrap your arms around his waist—and a pout adorns your red lips. “I’m only a little tipsy.” 

That’s a lie. 

He can see that right away with how foggy your eyes are and how red your cheeks are. 

You’re more than just a little tipsy. 

Not that he minds, though. 

In fact, he’s letting out a breath of relief as he holds you back with one arm, the other still holding his drink, and he lowers his head so only you can hear him—his voice coming out a low rumble, “Let’s go then, love.” 

Because whenever you’re like this—it gives him an excuse to leave. 

To go home and take care of you in a way that he knows what you need right now. 

You nod, eager, excitement shooting up your nerves as he guides you through crowds of people—him saying bye to those he gives a shit about, and—

And that’s how, about an hour later, you end up back at his apartment—his bedroom door locked—as your body sinks into his plush mattress, one of your hands carding through his silk-softened hair that’s nestled between your thighs. 

“Fuck—”

You suck in a shaky breath as a flat tongue runs from your entrance to your clit, and you whine as Sakusa hooks his arms under your thighs to bring your pussy flush against his mouth—his mask thrown off somewhere in the midst of you two kissing so deeply on your way here—and he spits on your clit, making your cunt pulse. 

“You’re always so wet when you drink,” Sakusa groans against you, his mouth covering your entire pussy as his jaw goes to work, sucking and eating you out like he's starved. 

Just the way you like it when you’re this tipsy—the alcohol making you pleasantly warm, mixed with how his tongue and mouth feel on you.

It’s like you’re drowning in a pool of liquid heat as he makes out with your cunt, his tongue dipping in and running through your pillowy folds, and all you can do is lay there and take it with your toes curling and your fingers digging in his hair. 

It’s funny when you really think about it.

One would think that he—of all people—would be against this. 

Grossed out by it, even. 

But he’s the complete opposite with you in bed and behind closed doors.

He’s fucking dirty—uncaring of how messy he gets as your fluids gush onto his face as he fucks you with his tongue, eating your pussy and licking your clit like it’s honey. 

He even likes it more when you’re fucking yourself back—riding his face—making his eyes roll back, eyebrows furrowed, and a groan being muffled against your soft pussy. 

He doesn’t care about the way his chin gets drenched from your juices—not when it means he can hear you moan so pretty for him, and feel your plush thighs squeeze around his head. 

He’s so intoxicated by having his hot tongue in your cunt that he finds himself growing light-headed—his bulge growing and pre-cum leaking against his sweatpants as he licks and licks until you’re cumming on his tongue, moaning his name as you buck your hips into his face. 

“Oh god—Omi, ‘ts too much now—”

He hears you. 

Loud and clear. 

But he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop giving your poor, puffy little clit kitten licks as your cry from overstimulation. 

He doesn’t stop holding onto your thighs right where they are—keeping your pussy close to his mouth so he can lap you up, not wanting to waste a single drop of your fluids drooling everywhere. 

“You’re okay,” His voice is rough, and his eyes move up to look at your body—taking in the way your chest is rising and falling with quick breaths, your nipples are hard and waiting to also be sucked on—and he gives your sopping cunt one long, wide glide of his wet tongue from bottom to top. “Just give me one more, baby. Just one.” 

Instead, it’s never only one more. 

Once he’s in this position with his stomach flat on the bed and comfortably lying in between your legs—

Sakusa doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon. 

You taste too fucking good.

You feel too warm. 

And you sound so damn needy and pretty for him.

You whine, a sob escaping you, and you shake your head. “Omi—please—”

But then your words die with a gasp when you feel him nip the curve of the skin of where your cunt and inner thigh meet—and you let out a ragged exhale, his voice thick and smooth as he kisses your thigh. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” You feel so dizzy from the heat that you throw an arm over your forehead, panting as you feel two of his fingers strum your dripping folds before spreading them apart, glistening and throbbing. “You know I can’t help it.” 

He doesn’t let you say anything else, though. 

Not when he immediately dives back in to prod his tongue into your tight walls, flexing and curling it to bring you back to that hot, buzzing ache in your belly. 

And he keeps your folds open for him to get drunk on—sucking and licking and nipping while his nose bumps against your clit, feeling his hairs tickle your thighs as he gets you to orgasm again. 

And again. 

And again—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Omi!” 

He gets his tongue all worked up, mouth open and thumb rubbing your swollen clit until you’re cumming for the fourth time like this—fluids squirting on his face as your abused and soaked cunt spasms, his name on your tongue as you cry, and he drinks it all up like he’s needy for your taste. 

“Such a good pussy, baby,” Sakusa sucks on your clit with obscene suction noises, making tears stream down your cheeks as a few more spurts of liquid squirt out of you—you’re so fucking overstimulated—and his face is a mess at this point, too. 

When he eventually does pull away—his lips are swollen and shiny—you don’t even have it in you to force your limbs to move anymore. 

You’re so fucked out and he hasn’t even put his cock inside you yet.

“You took it all so well for me.” 

Sakusa looks down at your body—so sweet and perfect—and he can’t help but smile at the little mess he’s made between your legs. 

He then unties the strings to his sweatpants as he sits back on his knees, his dick throbbing to feel your pussy swallow him, and once his thick cock bounces free—

He gives your pussy a slap—his palm against it with a harsh sting—making you whimper, then cups his hand over you as some way to soothe your tired cunt. 

“I just need you to lie there and be pretty for me now, okay baby?” 

end.

Masterpost

THESE LITTLE DRAWINGS.

OHH I GOT A GOOD ANGST ONE INSPIRED BY ALL THE KAMADO SLANDER!

What if during their missions the hero befriends this pack of hitsuian zoarks and zoras?

They have helped this pack many times during their missions and the pack has grown to care for their dear human friend.

But when you get banished hell has frozen over and what if you were seriously hurted during the banishment?

On top of the mountain everyone even thoughs who helped you will see an illusion of you dying body as the leader of the pack inches towards kamado scarring him for his actions!

Enjoy my fuckery!

Reader is gender neutral, the only she is the alpha Zoroark. Mentions of blood but nothing descriptive.

-

-

You don’t know what you did to deserve being banished, you only did what you were told.

No matter who stood up for you, they were instantly silenced to threatened with war, and that wasn’t something you wanted for any of those you still care for.

You didn’t know what else to do.

You weren’t given the chance to pack your things, or anything at all really, just whatever you had on you at the time.

The clans nor their leaders could help you.

So you wondered around, trying to find something, anything that could help you prove you innocence.

That drive lead you to the Alabaster Icelands.

Snowpoint temple seemed old enough to carry some secrets, maybe you could find something there?

While you set up your own little campsite in a cave you hear something, a curious sounding whine before it morphs into a happy yip.

Looking behind you, you see a little zoura you helped a while ago, if the cut out of their ear was anything to go by.

“Hey little buddy.”

You coo softly, but the small Pokémon senses something wrong, letting out a small whine, more zouras show up.

Ah, it’s the entire pack you’ve helped over the months.

You remember healing them when you found them and handing them back to a very angry and cautious alpha.

Speaking of, a louder, deeper grumble greets you.

The other zouras and Zoroarks of the pack form a soft circle around you, just as the alpha Zoroark makes her appearance.

“Hello to you too mama.”

The family looks at you, all letting out various sad or comforting sounds. The larger Zoroark curls around you, in an effort to keep you warm.

“Thank you.”

It’s funny being held like this. Your thoughts begin to tumble and before you know you, you’re sobbing into the fluffy mane of the Zoroark around you.

You cried your heart out to the whining pack, venting about all that has happened.

Your banishment.

You betrayal.

Your heartache.

They left it all.

The alpha Zoroark rubbed her cheek against your, wrapping herself up in your scarf before moving away. She stood up, speaking to her children before most of the zoroarks left, not without giving you a nuzzle.

One Zoroark was left to keep watch over you and the zouras.

You cried a little more, hugging and cuddling with your new family before falling asleep, surrounded by their fluffy warmth.

You sleep safe and protected, completely unaware of what is yet to come.

The pack of zoroarks quickly move in towards the village.

The have arrived by the next night.

The alpha looks down at the scarf you have yet to notice she took.

They hurt her pup.

They left her pup abandoned in the wilderness to suffer the same fate as her.

They will not be forgiven.

The meeting between the commander and clan leaders was dragging on.

It was late but no progress was being made.

Kamado sighs at Irida and Adaman’s stubbornness, the two were still upset about his ruling over you.

“It’s been almost a week! No one as heard from them, let alone see them!” Adaman’s patience is wearing thin.

“What if something happened to them? These lands aren’t exactly kind.”

Irida was worried, she heard from Lian that the day of you banishment you asked for her, but due to Kamado’s orders he couldn’t help and you left.

You are her dear friend, she hopes you’re safe.

Adaman’s anger is only to mask his fear, Irida is right, these lands aren’t kind, and with you by yourself, with no guards or professor on the look out for you, who knows what could happen.

The door to the side suddenly flings open.

A powerful burst of malicious pressure forcing it open.

Red claws grip the door frame, the Zoroark lowers herself to enter the office.

Before any made a move the gasp.

That’s your scarf, that’s your galaxy uniform scarf that you never took off.

Slowly the Zoroark morphs into you, a blood stained you.

“…..hero?” Irida’s voice breaks, her hands over he mouth with tears stinging her eyes.

Adaman and Kamado stand shocked and horrified at the realization.

It’s you.

“Why did you do this to me?” It’s your voice, it sounds so uncanny.

Your eyes however stay that stark yellow, glaring down the commander.

“I-I didn’t!- I-“

“I will give you a fate like mine.”

The threes face’s paled, neither clan leader’s teams were strong enough to take on such a strong, angry foe.

A part of them didn’t want to. It was you after all, you had every right to be angry.

They stare at the Zoroark’s illusion. It had to be you, the creature had your scarf after all.

You didn’t seem to have any open injuries, but the blood showed just where you were hit.

Adaman felt like puking at the thought of your pain.

With all the commotion, Cyllene and Laventon burst in.

Laventon’s loud cry startled the Zoroark, bringing her attention toward the other door.

Was that your pack mate you spoke fondly of?

“Everyone get back! Abra!”

Ah these the strict one you spoke of as well.

She lunges, breaking her illusion and going for Kamado’s throat.

But Abra teleports him out of the room just in time.

With a loud snark and howl, the village echoes in several howls.

“If you hadn’t banished them this wouldn’t be happening!”

“How was I suppose to know they’d be killed and turned into THAT!?”

“Are you so closed off you don’t see the world you live in anymore!?”

Kamado argues with Irida and Adman, he didn’t think this would happen.

“Enough! We need to take ever safety precaution we have. Zoroarks are dangerous, we won’t know who’s one until they slip up.”

Cyllene quickly takes over the situation.

“Lock down the village and get everyone inside this building state!”

“Yes ma’am!” Galaxy guards run out to round everyone up, alarms are being signaled and the lock down commences.

Hours into the lock down, well into the next morning, everything seems fine.

Kamado spent most of it dealing with the villagers, ignoring the harsh glares being sent his way by the other leaders, Cyllene, and Laventon.

His mind only replaying what happened yesterday.

You couldn’t be dead…could you? Though why else would a pack of zoroarks come to his village? They always stay in the Icelands.

The realization that he had a hand in your demise, seeing a ghostly you, so angry at him.

It made his heart sink.

The commander does his best to make sure that side door stays locked up tight. He always checks to make sure it stays that way, in fear it’ll open and you’ll be standing there, ready to finish the job.

-

With food secured and their mother’s actions done, the pack heads back to their den.

The alpha lets out a soft coo at the sight of you playing with the other pups.

“Oh! Welcome back.”

You holy in surprise when each Zoroark drops human food by you.

“Is that what y’all left for?”

You look at them confused as she nudges you towards it.

“Well, thank you!” You gave some of them some pets before eating some of the food.

Looking over to the mother of the pack you chuckle.

“I was wondering where my scarf went, though you can keep it, it matches you!”

Your chuckle turns into a laugh as she licks your face, fully trying to give you a bath.

Maybe staying here won’t be so bad.

Have you heard of cupcake cosmos? 🧁🌸