#and then spends a bunch of time being so hot and special that even the nazgul are terrified of him. beats the witch-king in fights

[unopenablebox]

can you believe it took me until now to learn that angmar is in the far north of middle-earth. like well north of rivendell. i swear i really did read the appendices as a kid but clearly i did not retain from them a damn thing

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 5

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(special thanks to @bucket-of-cheese for this episode cover art!, as well as @karkatwaddles @chip-the-dip @scrambledlikeeggs @kairamuwu with editing)

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Our favourites cross paths

CW: threats made with a weapon, mentions of injuries

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Time passes, though horribly slower in the desert heat.

Grian and Scar both spend their morning groggy and aching from the phantom fight the previous evening. Not to mention the little rest they were able to get during the relatively short night that this planet provides.

Now that they feel rested enough, Grian shoots up high above the canyon with a few strong beats of his wings. Scar watches him from the ground as he makes a few circles in the sky before he dives down back to join him. With a greater bearing on his surroundings, thanks to the high vantage point, Grian picks a direction that seems most prominent to head towards. He returns grumbling about how he could see something in the distance, but it looked like nothing more than a bunch of junk to him. Not much of the optimist it seems, but Scar prides himself on being able to make the most of any situation. He pats Grian's back, giving a small speech about how 'that a bunch of junk was better than nothing after all'. Grian blinks slowly, reluctantly agreeing. They have a destination now!

Grian consistently finds himself needing to catch up with Scar, occasionally mumbling about how the ground is too flat and something about bird feet. It’s obvious by how he’s fidgeting that he’d rather be flying, even though that option means either leaving Scar behind or carrying him there. And as much as Scar wants to ask, he’s also scared he might lose an eye as a result.

He leaves the slightly personal question unasked, the conversation instead being filled with Grian complaining about walking. He hesitates when their passage opens up to the blaring, exposed sun. Holding his hand up to shield himself from the harsh light, he scrunches his face, occasionally wincing when his hot metal limbs hit his skin with his heavy, tired steps.

Scar himself isn’t having much of a fun time either. The leg braces he uses aren’t meant to be put under a lot of strain for such a long time. It’s only a matter of time before they might snap. The grains of sand grating against them are probably hastening the unit's deterioration. He'll have to use Grian as support if they do break.. and go through the laborious task of requesting a new pair from the Vindicators.

Occasionally they have to take a break, with Scar trying to brush as much dust and sand from the joints of the braces, doing the most he can to slow down any decay it might have caused them. On the other hand, Grian uses the opportunity to rest, immediately slumping against the nearest wall and fanning himself with his tail.

Scar has long since taken off his jacket and tied it around his waist, relieved by the fact he'd been wearing a tank top underneath. The lack of sleeves feels like a world of difference in the heat, not that he wouldn't take it off completely if need be, despite his company. Every so often, he catches Grian's lingering looks when he thinks Scar isn't watching, his expression weirdly guarded and lost in thought. One time, when he notices he’s being examined, Scar flexes jokingly in response, receiving a roll of the eyes and quiet mutterings about indecency.

Despite how hot it is and how much his company seems to fidget and scratch at the uncomfortable feathers underneath, Grian seems insistent on keeping his layers on.

Finally, they reenter the shade, and the winged man groans, flinging around his stiff arms.

”What's wrong?” Scar turns around, watching as the strange man shakes out his feathers. Sand rains down as he does as if the sunlight has been caking him in the sand.

"I lost my helmet and, therefore, my visor. It sucks."

“Sucks how?"

"The light hurts my eyes." Grian rubs at his temples, scrunching his eyes closed.

Scar tilts his head in response, confused. It’s bright, not enough to be painful yet, but it’s clearly bothering Grian more somehow.

When he’s met with a lack of a retort, Grian glances up at Scar, quickly taking note of his confused expression. He rolls his eyes like he knows what Scar is thinking.

"I'm a glare," he says so simply, answering the unspoken question.

"Not… glare-leaning? Or an avian?" Scar, not so subtly, looks Grian up and down, the other tensing uncomfortably with a weird look to match.

"No."

"But…" Scar trails off, not quite being sure how to ask respectfully.

"I have wings?" Grian finishes for him, like he’s heard it all before. Tucking his wings behind his back on reflex, he takes in a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for a speech.

A series of looks flash across his face. Scar waits patiently, only for Grian to breathe out a quiet "Yeah," with no further elaboration.

"Glares can have wings?"

"This one can. It's complicated." Grian walks past Scar, losing eye contact deliberately as he strolls ahead. He doesn’t appear upset at least, bored is the closest to how Scar could describe it.

"But… How?" Scar asks cautiously, against his better judgment.

"Family curse from hitting a magical bird with a ship centuries ago." Grian holds his hands out, imitating piloting, before hitting his hands together with a metal clank. "BAM! Wings for all your firstborns."

"Wait, really?" Scar exclaims. Genuinely believing Grian’s story. He catches up to him with a quick jog, looking to the glare in an attempt to get a read of his face only to be met with a smirk. Oh.

"Nah-" Grian chuckles to himself, patting Scar on the shoulder.

Scar watches as he continues up ahead, looking at the feathered tail with a new perspective. A glare. That explains why his feathers look so real — they’re a feature all Glares possess to varying degrees – and his deep inky eyes that never seem to shrink, even in the harsh light. Maybe the wings are just artificial add-ons, but that doesn’t feel right — they’re far too realistic and fluid. He shakes the thought out of his head. It probably isn’t polite to dwell on it, the subject is obviously something Grian doesn’t want to talk about.

But no, Scar isn’t about to be done with this conversation completely.

"Prove you’re a glare, then."

Grian, who had walked slightly ahead, stops and turns around to give Scar an almost offended look before he shrugs, replacing it with an amused, yet tired one.

“Sure,” he says with a resigned sigh.

Without warning, everything in Scar’s sight goes dark, like an all-encompassing shadow out of nowhere, the murky nothingness only just reaching his toes. He sticks his hands out in front of him, looking at them as they become outlined by a dark void.

He knows what this is. Most glares possess this skill, it’s the baseline ability tied to their magic. ‘Darkness’ he thinks he remembers it being called. Scar has never experienced it first hand though, and he can’t help but ogle the slightly frightening power.

“Whoah-”

As quickly as it appeared, the gloom flees, leaving him with the less-than-friendly, hot reflective sands.

Grian looks at him curiously, his arms crossed.

“Okay, so believe me now?”

Scar smiles, nodding vigorously.

“That was sooo cool!!”

Grian very hesitantly smiles back, turning away before Scar can process it completely.

Despite his wary demeanour, he secretly revels in the reaction, not quite being able to help but grin to himself.

“Can you do illusion magic too?” Scar asks, making Grian's steps hesitate for just a second, the mood in the air changing quickly. His back is still facing Scar, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing the slight shudder in Grian’s shoulders, and the subtle flicks of his feathers.

“…No,” is all he says in slow response… too slowly.

Ah, so another sour subject, it feels like Scar is collecting them all. As much as he wants to pry, he feels like he has asked enough.

There’s a lapse in their conversation as Scar's eyes wander. They both continue walking, albeit slowly, probably due to Grian's obvious intent to savour the shade when passing through it.

"If the sun's bothering you that much, why don't you just do the darkness thing to yourself?" Scar inquires, filling the silence.

"That's not how it works. It's only a perception, I don't actually switch off the sun," Grian replies, his voice back with some light, the previous question forgotten.

"Oh."

"And trust me, oh how I want to switch off this sun." He holds his long claws up to the sky, imitating crushing the light that peeks from the shade touching the tips of his claws.

“I'll still get the painful headache even if I make everything dark for me.”

Scar glances down to his waist, where his own helmet has been clipped. He once again catches up to Grian, leg braces creaking slightly.

"… I could give you my helmet." He hands it to him.

Grian looks down at the poor thing with a gentle look on his face.

"It's got a huge crack in it, so it's pretty much useless. Sorry about that, by the way." He flicks a guilty look at Scar before settling back into stride ahead of him.

"I wouldn't call it useless-'' Scar looks down at it with a frown. He hopes he can repair it, it’s dear to him.

"Even if it wasn't, I would never put that thing on."

"What’s wrong with the cat ears?" Scar questions, a smile evident in his voice. He knows well that it isn’t his cute accessories that’s deterring Grian from putting the helmet on, he just thinks it’s amusing to indicate so.

He holds up the helmet up in front of Grian, closing one eye and envisioning him wearing it with a smirk.

Grian squawks out a laugh and pushes the helmet aside, "Hah. Ironically, I don’t have a problem with that, though I wouldn’t break the dress code just to put cat ears on a helmet."

"You know about the codes?"

"Sorta. I mean, I've unfortunately become very familiar with them – know your enemy or whatever."

"You really don't like vindicators, then," Scar says, with no malice in his voice. He’s more curious than anything.

"I feel like that much should be obvious."

Scar hops ahead of Grian, stepping slightly in front of him so that Grian has no choice but to look at him. "Well, I'm okay, right?" Scar smiles tilting his head.

He watches the bird’s gaze shift from the dust on Scar’s boots up to meet his eye, a brow raised.

And with a genuine smile and quiet laugh, Grian answers "Yeah, you're alright".

—

"Be careful they might be dangerous."

While navigating through a particularly maze-like part of the ravine. Grian had stopped abruptly, and grabbed Scar by the shirt mid-conversation, pulling him around a corner.

Scar attempted to ask what was wrong only for Grian to shush him, hissing about how he’d seen two figures deeper in.

Wiggling slightly out of Grian's hold, Scar popped his head around briefly, catching a glance at their new company.

There were, in fact, two figures who sat up against a stony wall as the passage opened up, connecting to another, larger passage. Scar and Grian had an advantage, as the corner shielded them from view. One figure had their back to them, their large silhouette obscuring the other figure from view. The only indication there was even two, being the distinct overlap of a conversation that could barely be heard from where Grian and Scar were hidden.

And that brings them to the present, with Scar tapping his chin, debating different ideas of how to approach them. Grian listens as he impatiently claws at the ground, grumbling at each suggestion that leaves the other's mouth.

There’s a quiet shift in the sand to Scar's side and he turns to watch as Grian shifts closer to him, his shoulders hunched slightly and wings puffed up.

Scar finds himself suppressing the urge to compare him to a pinecone.

"Why would they be dangerous?" Scar asks, tilting his head slightly. Confused about the other's comment.

Grian splutters, mouth working but not making noises aside from baffled squeaks before he eventually coughs.

"… I mean, I was a stranger a mere hours ago and I had a blade to your heart, dude." His voice pitches up at the end, causing him to flinch when it echoes slightly against the walls. He ducks as if that would stop the sound, scooting closer to Scar, further from the stranger's direction.

"….Well, you're not doing that right now." Scar smiles a wide grin, hushing his voice pointedly before shrugging.

Grian just stares at him, almost as if testing Scar’s smile, before he rolls his eyes and scoffs,

"… Can't argue with that logic."

Scar's smile grows slowly, bright and excited at Grian's agreement. He watches all of Grian's feathers stand up even more somehow, catching on to Scar's enthusiasm.

“Don't-”

"Glad you trust me!" Scar beams.

"I wouldn't go that far, trust is a strong word," Grian pulls a dubious look before grumbling and looking away. He shakes his shoulders as if trying to suppress the stress that’s putting him and his feathers on edge.

“I honestly don't think it's a good idea to even approach them– People are almost always bad news in these situations. We could just work our way around them…” he trails off mumbling to himself.

“But that's no fun!” Scar hums lightly, nudging the bird out of his strategizing. “Besides, they could help us!”

Grian doesn’t reply, just huffs with a scowl that squishes his face comically.

Scar absently scratches at his chin before he leans up against the wall pressing his forearm high above Grian, leaning over, the other doing a double take, clearly taken back by how much Scar is leaning over into his space. He'll have to put on his charm to try and convince the bird, his most effective tactic.

"You're nervous but I can assure you this, I can gain any advantage in a situation, just by talking" He gives him a cheesy lopsided grin.

"What- do you possess the ability to talk someone to death? Boredom? Into sleep, perhaps?" Grian replies in the most mocking and deadpan tone, meeting his energy.

"All of the above!!! Depending on the weather of course," He says, leaning in slightly with a whisper before bouncing back to that quietish tone of his, "and then I steal their stuff!!" Scar grins with more eagerness than Grian has seen in quite some time, causing the glare to let out a slight wheeze of laughter, raising an incredulous brow.

"Wow, you're really starting to sound more like a criminal." He veers his head to the side, grinning widely up at Scar, and bearing his sharp teeth.

Scar retracts his arm from the wall, an unsure look spoiling his smile. He can’t help darting his eyes to the side, almost taken aback by the former statement. "I mean … not if they're the bad guy, right?"

“That's a very rudimentary way of thinking.” Grian's grin falters slightly, that cold look flickering over him briefly, as his eyes narrow. He shakes away whatever thought he had, bringing the prior conversation back.

“Fine, you do you're talking thing then,” the bird swats at the air absently.

“And you'll be my hype man?” Scar bounces on his toes excitedly.

Grian gives too blank of an expression before pushing up his shoulders. “I'll do something,”

“AHA! Be amazed, small friend! At my infectious likeableness,” Scar stands up straighter and puffs out his chest, before moving to turn around the corner between them and the strangers only for sharp claws to gently grab his arm.

“Wait-”

“Oh oh! W-what?” Scar looks around shocked, but nothing is amiss, just the surprisingly warm touch of metal talons.

“You're intending to make a good impression, right?”

Scar splutters awkwardly as Grian doesn’t give him time to answer the obvious question.

“My advice? I'd hide that you're a Vindicator."

“…why?”

“Ah–” Grian awkwardly chuckles, retracting his grip and scratching at his head. “I thought I’d already established that the general public isn't too fond–” he loosely gestures Scar up and down.

Scar raises a brow, leaning on his hip and looking down at the bird. “Really? Are you the general public?” He smirks at his own witty remark.

“Just take my word for it, this definitely isn't Spawn, and I bet you haven't even travelled off planet before. You have that sparkly dumb innocent look in your eyes–”

Scar gasps and clutches his hand to his chest in false offence.

“I’m just saying, if you wanna do the whole friendly talking thing, I'd recommend not immediately making it known that you're a Vindicator.” Grian huffs.

Scar looks down dumbly at the bright blue jacket tied around his waist. Grian follows his line of sight and muffles a laugh, noticing Scar's mild panic at the glaring obvious beacon of his faction, taunting him along with a bright stitched ‘V’ clearly visible even with it tied at his waist.

“Just– turn it inside out or something–”

“Oh! Smart!” Scar claps his hands, wincing as the noise echoed against the walls. Grian glares at him.

He fumbles with the jacket, taking it off and turning it inside out before tying it back around his waist, and nodding with satisfaction. He looks back towards Grian, the glare watching him slightly amused. “Now, Bird friend, watch as I charm these members of the ‘general public’ with my insatiable charisma!”

“… You already said that. There's only so much ‘impressed’ I can hand out, I'm afraid.”

Scar ignores him as he brushes off as much dust as he can to look somewhat presentable. He leans forward with a step but stops as quickly as he started when his company doesn't make a move with him.

“You're not… coming with??”

“I am, I just want to linger back, for safety reasons– you know?” Grian still stands with his arms crossed but his face has morphed into something far more neutral, clawed feet firmly digging into their place in the sand.

“Oh! Smart!” Scar replies. He continues, but not before catching the faint flicker of a smile from his companion.

Scar confidently marches towards the strangers, too distracted by his plan to notice the quiet whoosh of feathers behind him.

“Why, hello there!”

“EEEEK!”

“OH MY GOSH–” both of the strangers scream at Scar, frantically scrambling back in the sand up to a stand.

The shorter one gawks at Scar, their left arm held stiffly as their right tugs on the other's sleeve pulling them both back further. They push themselves in front in an act that almost could have been intimidating if the other wasn't practically two times their size.

Now, up close, Scar takes the two in. The shorter one appears to be a blazeborn, fuzzy and yellow with clothes that looked like they weren't originally suited for the heat, evident by the thick winter coat tied around their waist, mirroring Scar’s, and the torn-off sleeves of their shirt. The other stands several heads taller, also strangely cradling their right arm. They’re far less identifiable, but the several neat feathers that frame their face and shoulders definitely imply that they’re probably at least glare adjacent, even with their height. They’re wearing what can be described as cowboy attire, sans a hat, and look far more in place in this setting.

“Oh, you're just a guy…” the taller one eventually speaks out after their initial panic.

“Yup, just a guy!” Scar stands up straighter, suppressing a wince as his leg braces squeak obnoxiously. “Sorry to cause a fright,” he smiles apologetically.

The two of them glance at each other, then back to Scar with bewildered expressions.

“I think I might be lost! And maybe you are too? We were wondering if you could help”.

“We?” One of them asks.

“OH! Well! I'm Scar and this here is my lackey.” He turns to look for Grian only to be met with the empty, dusty ground and no bird in sight.

“They're …not here?”

“Who-” Scar hears one of them ask. He doesn’t even have time to turn to identify who before a flurry of feathers swoops down and blocks his view.

The two figures scream for a second time as the taller one is pushed roughly aside by brown wings, falling clumsy in the sand and landing in a way that causes them to choke out a yelp.

“OW OW OW, I CAN'T SEE!” They sit up quickly with one arm hanging loosely over their chest, the other grasping and rubbing at their face and eyes in confusion. They continue to yell in panic, “WHAT HAPPENED I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING-”

“Drop whatever weapons you have,” Grian turns, holding the blaze in his grasp. He holds his wings wrapped around them, keeping their arms pinned. He uses one of his clawed hands to cover their mouth, the other holding a blue, glowing blade to their neck.

“What- what happened to the talking plan?” Scar sways on his feet. Too much is happening in such a brief moment, and all his plans for conversations are useless, blown to the wind.

“Too slow,” Grian replies bluntly.

The figure in Grian’s grasp desperately tries to muster out a muffled scream against Grian's hand, only causing the bird to tighten his hold and sword to their neck.

Scar feels lost. He looks to the other who is still on the ground, using one hand to touch the sand.

“I can't see!- It's all dark- Tango?!-”

The pure distress in their voices, mixed with the muffled yelping of the other, makes Scar falter, his mind short-circuiting in the chaos. He weirdly feels scared, that same fear of Grian and his cold look is all too familiar to barely a day ago. A fear that he apparently didn't realise still has a frightful hold on him, his shoulder pulsing passively with pain on cue with the memory.

Despite the fear, he can’t help but step forward, reaching out to diffuse the situation.

Strangely enough, Grian flinches back. He stares up at Scar like he had completely forgotten he was there, his confused look immediately being chased away as the trapped stranger shifts in his hold. His expression quickly returning to an unreadable one.

“Let them talk… maybe? Please?” Scar asks slowly. Grian looks up at him with those deep dark eyes, cold and empty before a nearly embarrassed look crosses his face. He lowers the hand that had held the stranger's mouth, but the blade, however, is still pinned to their throat.

Immediately the blaze gasps and begins yelling “Please we're injured, we mean no harm- please-”

“…. Huh,” Grian squeezes tighter subconsciously, as they kick in his grasp.

“Our arms- OW! QUIT IT- LET GO!”

They shove against Grian, his grip loosening just enough for them to push out as he moves his blade. All of a sudden the bird looks incredibly guilty.

“What the hell man!” The shorter man scrambles to their partner's side, leaning down and giving them their arm to grab onto. They keep their eyes on Grian, scowling as the other weakly uses their hold to stand up.

In an almost too cheery voice for the situation, the taller one speaks, “I can see again! What was that?”

Their gaze immediately lands on Grian, who tenses under it.

“You’re a bird?” They mutter dumbly after rubbing their eyes and squinting at him.

Grian steps back, still holding his weapon by his side. He gives the tall man a look up and down his expression twisting into something uncomfortable.

“Not one of yours,” he mumbles back.

“Sorry, sorry?” the taller coughs, completely confused, but Grian ignores them.

“You're hurt, both of you?” Grian hums, pointing the end of his sword in their direction as he makes a move to stand by Scar's side, who stands, silently wringing his hands, considering his next steps.

They both nod, fear and anger plain on their faces, each holding an arm tightly to their chests.

A quiet sort of relief washes over Grian as he puts away his sword. His expression morphing into amusement, with a tinge of sheepishness.

“Wow, that's inconvenient! You don't pose much of a threat then, huh?” He tries to joke and smile, the expression faulting only when their company makes no indication of finding that comment funny, at all.

Scar shifts awkwardly to his side, considering many different options on what to do next moves through his head before he steps in front of Grian, a goofy grin being plastered across his lips.

“So… maybe we should start over?”

“You think?” The blaze spits, their shimmering flame-like hair sparking in reaction.

“We were only taking precautions, there are dangerous people in this big universe, you know!” Scar tries to lessen the anger with that same cheesy grin.

“I'd argue, you're one of them! Or at least they are,” They point towards the bird, who does nothing but look away, crossing his arms.

“Just a common misunderstanding, we apologise. Let me reintroduce myself-” Scar tries to step forward with a handshake, but both of them move away from him pointedly. Instead, he retreats to Grian’s side, putting his hands up defensively, giving them more space to feel safe.

“Well, I'm Scar! Like I- already mentioned-” he nervously chuckles the last bit, then gestures to the glare. “-and this is Grian”

“Ah, so we're giving them our names- cool,” the other grumbles, his back practically turned to them, appearing like he’s given up on the exchange.

A tense atmosphere falls heavily on the four as awkward silence fills the air. Scar's eyes glance to the taller of the duo, who meets his gaze with a similar, nervous expression, unlike the blazeborn who stands next to them, festering with an anger that seems to almost crackle off of them in flames.

The tall one eventually finds the courage to speak, unsure and hesitant, without the anger and murderous look that their companion seems to have.

"Well, I'm Jimmy! And this is Tango!" Jimmy speaks with a similar cheer and charisma to Scar.

"Yup," the blaze, Tango, snaps with a slight snarl on his lips. His injured arm tightly held against his body, crossing over his chest as he stares daggers in the direction of Scar and Grian. There’s another pause of quiet that only causes the air to grow more uneasy, so thick with awkwardness that it can be cut with a knife. Tango and Grian stand their ground while Jimmy begins to kick at the sand absent-mindedly and an awkward cough escapes from Scar.

The former can't help but wring his hands once again, standing unsure in the moment before he decides to speak once again, "You seem tense,"

"YOU THINK?" Tango barks out, that snarl only growing angrier as he drops his hand to his side and balls it into raging fists.

Jimmy quickly tries to hop to some sort of defence, "We haven't seen anybody yet- we didn't really expect anyone to-" he’s cut off by Tango's eyes whipping over to look at him, the blazeborn pointing a finger to his neck,

"A KNIFE. TO MY THROAT." He speaks loud and clear making it obvious, if anyone can't tell, why he’s angry.

At that, Grian turns to the conversation, his tail flicking behind him. “Ah- Well, I didn't break your skin and, you know, I apologised.”

“Actually, you haven’t-” Jimmy points out, frowning.

“Oh… sorry?” Grian shrugs.

“I already dislike you-”

He ignores Jimmy turning to Scar with a neutral expression, “Right, Scar, ready to go?“

“What?”

“YOU'RE GOING TO JUST LEAVE US?” Jimmy shouts whilst Tango just looks unsurprised.

“Well, you're both injured so-” Grian says nonchalantly, not bothering to finish his sentence like it’s obvious.

“THAT'S CRIMINAL-” Jimmy squawkes.

Grian doesn’t reply, instead, lightly reaching for Scar, a weird sort of hesitance to his grasp, looking as if he’s going to grab Scar's arm, only to move to pull at his shirt. Scar doesn't move.

“We could- help them?”

Grian looks at him with a troubled look but doesn't say anything in response.

“You know?” He, in fact, makes no indication of knowing. “We have medical supplies, remember?”

Tango's eyebrow shoots up, his angry scowl morphing into intrigue. “Healing?”

“SCAR- Cool now they know our names and our resources-” the bird grumbles, Eying the two with a cold glare. He crunches up his nose, then looks back to Scar. “We're not giving them anything for free.”

“…Well I mean, we could always offer a trade.” Scar tries to smile, trying his best to appeal to Grian with a warm grin.

Grian takes in a deep breath, contemplating for a couple of seconds before he points at the strangers and clicks his tongue. “What do you two have to offer?”

“Do you have an ender chest?” Scar pipes in quickly.

“…No.”

“We don't really have anything-”

Grian hums in acknowledgement then smirks at Scar. “There you go, shall we leave then-”

Tango interrupts quickly as the winged man once again tries to pull Scar away. “We have some knowledge! You said you’re lost! I know some things to help! About this game-”

“Game?” Scar repeats.

“No thank you-” Grian now switches from pulling at Scar to pushing him.

“But aren't you curious? We have theories!”

“All good, we have our own plans, thank you.” He huffs in an effort to try and move Scar, but for once Scar has an advantage over him in height and strength. He barely moves.

“Okay! Deal!” Scar finally replies.

“SCAR!” Grian stops pushing Scar, instead staring at him like an angry feathered hedgehog. It takes all of Scar’s willpower not to laugh at him.

“We'll only tell you anything once you heal us,” Tango adds.

“Hah! As if that wasn't already a bad deal-” Grian mumbles mostly to himself.

“-What about during?”

“Okay, during.” Tango agrees to Scar.

Grian finally acknowledges the blaze, as he holds a hand to his chest and baps at Scar with the other. He scowles between them all. “Hey, hey. I'm the one with the supplies, you should be negotiating with me-”

He cuts himself off at the look Scar gives him. His lips press into a tight frown as he crosses his arms and taps his claws, the processing of his thoughts buried deep in his brow.

Scar tilts his head at him slightly.

“Ugh fine,” Grian finally relents, before huffing off to the side and making an upset display of sitting down and disrupting the dusty sand with a flap of his wings, the others coughing slightly.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Take a seat. Let me heal your stupid bones,” he finally spits when the others don’t make any motion, prompting the pair to finally move.

“Oh, it's really rich of you to think I'd let you get anywhere near to my arm again-” Tango replies, unamused.

“Well you're going to just have to deal with it,” Grian replies to Tango with a sardonic grin, “These are my supplies and I'd like to keep some autonomy in this situation.”

“If it makes you feel any better he healed me pretty well,” Scar chimes in, pulling his tank top aside, to show off the slightly bloody gauze. Tango scrutinises the wound, hissing sympathetically, looking towards Grian who’s trying and failing to look not guilty.

“… I suppose.” Jimmy hums, next to Tango.

Both he and Tango awkwardly shuffle towards the winged man, within arms reach of each other, they sit down in unison, Tango’s tail hooking onto Jimmy's ankle.

“You! Beanpole! Give me your arm” Grian moves closer, sitting up on his knees.

“Me?” Jimmy replies confused.

“Yes you, I don't see any actual bean poles around here do you? I'm talking to your daft mug.”

“You don't have to insult me so much, man-” Jimmy grumbles as he complies, as Grian makes a start on assessing his injuries.

There’s a couple of minutes of uncomfortable quiet, occasionally interrupted by grumbles and yelps. Scar stands, watching his company. He looks towards Tango, who it keeping a calculated watch on what Grian is doing.

“You didn't expect to be here…” Scar slowly sits in front of Tango. His eyes bright with intrigue.

Tango just turns to look at him confused. “What?”

“Those clothes-” Scar points at the thick coat, cushioning the blaze as he sits crossed-legged.

“Oh! OH, that's actually pretty intuitive.” He smiles at Scar and scoots closer indicating for him to listen.

“Yeah I'm not from here, I was working on a pretty cold planet, before …uh.”

“Waking up with no memories of how you got here?” Scar finishes, beaming.

Tango leans back, his grin faltering slightly. “…Yeah.”

“How'd you know that!?” Jimmy asks from behind them, apparently having been listening in.

“We're the same! Actually! We don't remember at all how we got here.”

“Even him?” Tango gestures coldly over his shoulders, not even looking in Grian's direction.

“Even him!”

“Interesting,” Tango appears to drift into his thoughts before Grian coughs loudly.

“Alright then, if you want me to do this, well, you better start to tell your story.”

Tango shoots him an angry look, then dusts off his trousers before sitting up straight, getting comfortable. He looks at Scar, coughs, and smiles.

“Well, first you gotta know some of my history.”

Scar watches Grian roll his eyes from over Tango's shoulder.

“I worked as… hmmm sorta freelance. I'm an architect, redstoner- weird lil’ guy with a nac for bizarre contraptions. I take all and any kind of jobs I can find across the universe, a travelling mechanic if you will,” Tango grins, pleased. “I'm actually- saving up so I can own a hermit settlement, start a small self-sustaining industry, build all kinds of wacky farms! Just work for me, you know?”

He pauses, waiting for a response only to be met with puzzled looks.

“Uhhh that's beside the point. What I’m getting at is that owning the land to make a hermit settlement is a lot of money and prep. And as it goes, the jobs that pay the most tend to be the most…. questionable. I like to believe I'm a good judge of character when it comes to my clients, I know when the people who are giving me a tempting offer are bad news, and I usually decline. I'm not about putting myself in trouble for a pretty price.”

Tango inhales, his thumb worrying over his knuckle, and continues.

“But there was this one job- These very mysterious individuals offered me a job to create a game! It honestly was a very tempting offer, because they were giving me so much free range with what I built. The only requirement was that any number of people could enter the game and there could only be one winner. And they offered me a lot of money for it.”

Scar clocks Grian making a small sneer.

“So I took it, I took the deal and started designing my game. I uhhh- I sort of made, think like… dungeon crawler type deal.”

“Wait but you said you didn't make dungeons,” Jimmy interrupts.

“Going to be honest, I didn't expect you to hit that nail on the head.” Tango turns to Jimmy, giving him a small smile, before patting him gently on his shoulder. “Pretty impressive.”

Jimmy splutters, his expressions flip flopping between being offended and proud.

“Anyway… as I was saying, the more I worked for them, the more I started to suspect a few things. They kept insisting on things in my design to be more…”

He swirled his hand around “Let's say lethal. And that was before I started noticing how much resources and wealth my employer owned. They kept giving me things with ease, I started even asking for stuff I knew was hard to find like enchantments and whatnot. And they didn't even sweat.”

He cuts himself off, a conflicted look shadowing his face.

“When I put my energy into a project, I put my whole heart in. This dungeon was my… my child! I’d been working on it for months! Almost years! I didn't like how they were twisting it. They kept taking away the things I included to make the game fair. And that was my last straw.”

“I ran, and I tried to take all the important endgame design prints with me. I couldn't let them use my work to hurt people in the gruesome ways that they so clearly wanted to do. And now I'm here.”

“…Oh, that's rough,” Scar replies.

Nodding Tango stares down at his lap, rubbing at the worn pads of his hands. He looks genuinely sad for a minute before he shakes that look away and carries on.

“Yeah, so what I'm saying is- I got to see enough of the kind of work these people were doing to notice a pattern.”

“The people I worked for were definitely Enders, and I believe they're probably pretty high up considering rather than taking planets and trading pearls, they were employing people to take their enemies and put them into ‘games' for their entertainment.”

“And I think we're in one of those games right now,”

Tango grins wildly, holding a finger up to emphasise his conclusion.

“WHOA, what really?”

“Ugh,” Grian grumbles.

“And if my assumption is correct, I think we've all wronged an Ender before, right?”

He shuffles so that all four of them were sat in a circle.

“I mean- me! Clearly, with leaving the job.” He points to himself and then to Jimmy. “You said something about Enders secretly operating in the town you were sheriffing.”

Grian’s gloomy expression immediately gets replaced with intrigue as he looks up from his lap for the first time during the conversation with Jimmy.

“You're a sheriff?” Scar asks.

“YES, I am for a matter of fact, from a small town on the Nether.” Jimmy smiles widely, adjusting his hair confidently.

“Now that's surprising…” Grian remarks to himself.

Jimmy either doesn't hear or ignores him as he continues. “Well it's more a self-proclaimed title, not much goes on in my town and I mostly just… give directions to the elderly and get bullied by local kids,”

“Nevermind.”

Jimmy shoots Grian a dirty look, the latter smirking back before he goes back to working on the supplies in his lap.

“But yes! Recently I tried to uncover a mystery and encountered Enders,”

“And that's the last thing you remember doing right?” Tango inquires.

“… Yeah, actually.”

He looks towards Scar “And you… what about you?”

“Oh.”

Everyone looks at Scar with intrigue. Grian has his head dipped down still, his gaze, though, points, staring straight at him.

Ah, right, not-a-Vindicator time.

“Well, I'm a mayor, as a matter of fact.”

Everyone looks at him like it was the last thing they expected him to say, including Grian.

Scar coughs, chasing off the nervous wobble in his voice and he sits up straight ready to prove his charm.

“For a pretty unknown-” Scar awkwardly trails off, not really familiar enough with space life for his own lie. “…hermit settlement! A beloved staple of the community, birds and children sing when I roam the streets.”

The others look at him speechless, he can feel them doubting him. Alright then, maybe he should learn to be more believable.

“The last thing I remember doing, actually, was chasing a criminal down an alley!” He settles on. He sees Grian go still. “It was epic and had glorious explosions and everything, a truly action-filled adventure-”

He stops when he feels Grian subtly thump him with his tail. Hiding the movement by sitting up, done with dressing Jimmy's wounds and moving on to Tango.

Tango ignores him, too interested in Scar’s story. “Was this criminal an Ender by chance?”

“Oh! Yes!” He very almost forgot that was what Tango was asking to begin with.

Tango sits up straighter with a look of triumph and excitement on his face.“That makes three out of four.”

“…Not a chance,” Grian says coldly.

Tango finally turns to him, Grian looking up whilst sorting out the supplies he has left.

“What?”

“I'm not telling you my story like we're all sat around a campfire-”

“We're trying to help, isn't that what you asked for?” Tango argues.

“This isn't helpful information, it's just a lot of assumptions and guesses.”

“Calculated guesses! And besides, what else could you possibly know about what's going on? Enlighten me,” Tango challenges him.

“I don't… but I also don't see how knowing all this even helps us in our current situation.”

Grian leans back from where he had been hunched over, closes his eyes, and flings his hand around in an almost smug way. “Yada yada, scary rich people put a bunch of losers into a death game. That doesn't help me whilst we're supposedly in one.”

“You find yourself in a lot of death games then?” Tango grins bitterly.

“I- '' Somehow that waveres Grian’s response briefly, he clears his throat before resuming. “I like information that helps. This doesn't- this doesn't fix a broken arm or get us any closer to escaping.”

“Well maybe it can- we can go ahead knowing that there's probably traps or trials set for us.” Scar says. The two look at Jimmy and Scar who had been quietly observing their conversation.

“Like the beeping!” Jimmy responds.

“Yeah-”

“OH, THE PHANTOMS!” Scar exclaims.

“Phantoms?”

Scar wiggles in the dust with delight. “Yeah! We encountered phantoms on our journey, which is a pretty odd place to find them,”

“Stole my helmet,” Grian grumbles, less happy.

“Yeah… they were definitely placed here intentionally, we almost got killed by them!” Scar exclaims. He sits up straighter and puffs out his chest. “But I fought them off valiantly.”

Tango and Jimmy share a doubtful look.

“And what about you two- did you guys encounter anything strange?” Scar claps his hands together, intrigued.

Grian rests on his arm and gestures loosely to them. “Strange enough to break both your arms?”

At that both Jimmy and Tango look at each other, coming to a realisation that makes them both grin wildly at each other.

“OH and THAT'S another thing,” Jimmy says far too gleefully.

“The game makers must have included this other mechanic to make it difficult for us!” Tango injects, matching his energy. He and Jimmy talk in slightly hushed yet excited voices to one another, Tango playfully pushing at Jimmy and whispering something about how it all made sense now.

Scar and Grian just blink blankly, clearly missing something. When neither of the two gives them context, instead excitedly making noises at each other over a discovery, Scar coughs.

“What mechanic?” He leans closer, curiously.

“We are linked! Somehow!” Jimmy exclaims loudly.

“It's probably a curse and enchantment related. But we feel and suffer the same wounds, hence… broken arms'' Tango adds.

“So you both broke your arm?” Scar hums still confused.

“No no just Jimmy, he fell.”

“Gracefully!” Jimmy interrupts with too much enthusiasm.

“Gracefully… from the top of the ravine. I was just walking nearby and received the injury too,” Tango sits back a little and loosely holds up his injured arm.

Scar hums to himself, gaze jumping between his company and their injuries. “So it's a proximity thing?”

Tango sits up fast with a gasp of excitement. “That's a good point! I don't know.”

He leans forward cautiously, still holding his bad arm to his chest as he beckons Scar to come closer.

Both Jimmy and Grian look at each other confused before Tango flicks Scar hard on the nose. Causing him to make a startled yelp noise.

With how they lean over, neither manages to notice as Grian also flinches, hand briefly touching his own nose, before he notices Jimmy watching him and stops.

“Nope didn't feel that,” Tango says, veering back to his previously comfortable position.

Scar reclines back too, leg braces creaking slightly as he rubs his nose and makes a small sad noise.

“Did you?” Tango turns to Jimmy who’s looking weirdly at Grian.

Tango nudges him, the taller shaking out of whatever thought he was having.

“Oh- no I didn't.”

He looks back to Grian who’s in the process of not so subtly shifting further from the others.

“Maybe… Are you two together?” Jimmy prompts, pinning Grian specifically with a look.

Obliviously, Scar says, “We just met,” still holding his nose.

“No, he meant the weird pain link thing,” Tango responds with a slight laugh.

“Oh!! Hold on-” Scar excitedly lifts his head up, his sore nose quickly forgotten. He turns to Grian who had been trying his best to not be noticed the whole exchange.

Moving too fast and suddenly, Scar goes to pinch his arm, only to hit his hand against metal. The realisation hits him dumbly, but not before he watches Grian cry out and pull back fearfully with an expression Scar doesn’t think he's ever seen on the man's face before.

Grian regains his composure quicker than Scar. He shakes off the scared look on his face but keeps his arms held close to his chest protectively.

Scar goes to apologise but Grian's voice interprets him. His attention directed away from Scar.

“No, we're not linked.”

Tango shrugs, titling his head at Jimmy and smiling.

“Well, maybe it's a thing specific to us,”

Jimmy pulls a slightly unconvinced face before agreeing. “Yeah probably.”

Grian finishes patching up Tango, ignoring the three as they descend into rambles and theories about it all.

He packs away his remaining supplies, looking pleased with his two patients' bandaged and slung arms, even as they pay him no mind.

He stands up, Scar is the first to look at him with a questioning expression.

“Welp! Considering I'm done… and you've given your less-than-useful information, I think it's our time to leave,” Grian brushes the dust off his trousers and holds out a hand for Scar.

“Scar?”

Scar doesn't move, he looks at the others and back to Grian, a guilty look on his face. “I actually think we should all stick together–”

Grian doesn't respond, instead pulling his hand away slowly. Scar continues.

“There’s clearly something much bigger going on here and I think teaming up is a safer option,”

The bird remains silent, his feathers betraying his blank face as they all pin. He blinks at Scar.

“I agree,” Jimmy speaks up awkwardly after a prolonged quiet.

Tango grins. “You're more than free to go off on your own,” he says snidely.

“Ah, well…” Scar splutters, standing up and holding his hands out, that's not what he meant at all, but Grian beats him to a response.

“No.”

“Wow… what a change of heart, you're scared of being alone?” Tango teases.

Grian pays no mind to the comments, his hurt look settling on Scar instead.

“Scar please, I can protect us both we don't need…” he loses his confidence, the end of his sentence teetering off.

Scar lets his arms hang at his side, as he looks at Tango and Jimmy, still sitting by each other's side. Now with both their arms in slings and, despite Tango's intimating expression, looking slightly pathetic in the hot sun.

“… they're hurting, Grian, I need to help,” he gives Grian a pleading look.

The glare stares at Scar, he seems to take in all of him, annoyed and confused. When suddenly, a brief flicker of understanding fills his features.

“… Grian?” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead, he stares at the dust to his side. Tail flicking at his side in frustration.

“I'm not leaving you,” he says simply. Refusing to elaborate.

A small part of Scar is surprised by Grian's response, his weird protectiveness over Scar, especially in context to how he’d acted towards the others. Scar can’t help but smile softly, even if Grian isn’t looking at him.

“So you'll agree to be a group?”

The bird turns to him with a hard look on his face, a disruption on his tongue before he cuts himself off, face flushing red when he realises Scar is smiling at him with a completely different energy. He bows his head slightly. “I'm staying with you, but I do not trust them.”

��

Scar sits down, explaining their travel plan, which honestly wasn't much since all they had done was travel in the direction of supposed man-made structures that had been spotted, hoping to not die in the process.

Grian positions himself slightly behind Scar as they all start laying out all their possessions. Comparing their resources with each other.

Out of everyone, Jimmy still has the most on him, carrying one container of water, which he apparently had forgotten about, he lets Grian and Scar take a swig, Tango insisting he doesn’t need it as much with being a blaze. They also have Grian's healing supplies, which at this point aren't very much, just a few alcohol wipes and gauze. Then also some dried meat Jimmy had and one package of dried cat treats that Scar had been carrying, and no one seems stoked about potentially eating.

Besides that, all they have is some random useless items in people’s pockets, all laid out in front of them. Anxious, taking in the unfortunate sight of what they have to survive on. Scar sits on his knees, ignoring how the braces creak as he leans on them.

Tango is watching Grian closely, mumbling under his voice like he’s trying to get Grian's attention, but the latter knows and deliberately ignores him.

Tango finally clears his throat and speaks up, tapping the sand in front of Grian to ensure he has his attention. “You have your weapon with you,” he says like it isn’t a question.

“Yes.” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead rewrapping a rope they had found in one of Jimmy's pockets. The rope rings slightly against his metal digits as he pulls the thread between them.

“So we all have our comms, storage, and defensive tools missing except for you,” Tango states snarkily.

“Well, I also have my comms and other stuff missing. Guess they accidentally skipped out on the knife.”

“How convenient for you,”

Grian deliberately disregards Tango's biting word, looking up at the other two. “We might have enough for a day or two more of travel? Could even hunt along the way… if there are even any animals.”

“The knife will be handy then.” Scar tries, looking at Tango with a cheery smile.

“Could also… maybe… find plants?” Jimmy says, They all look around at the dry, sandy landscape, only occupied by the occasional dead shrub, with dismay.

“How much collective knowledge do we have with foraging?”

“I used to be a baker!” Scar interjects excitedly.

“Cool!- But I don't see any flour or water, don't know how that's going to help us in this situation, bud,” Grian pats Scar on the back.

“Unless you are secretly an enderian and can just … teleport bread to us or something,” Tango adds jokingly.

“I'm not-”

“Are you?” Grian cuts in, the others realising quickly that he’s addressing Jimmy with a weird look.

Jimmy looks up confused, apparently not paying attention to where the conversation had drifted. “What?”

“You’re very tall… thought maybe-”

“Oh no, I'm a glare!” he replies.

Grian goes strangely still, that cold look filling his face. He looks like he wants to say something, but chooses against it, going back to meaninglessly fiddling with a rope.

“Well, it would have been super convenient to be an enderian with y’know …the lack of water,” Tango hums next to Jimmy.

“It might rain!” Jimmy notes gleefully.

“Rain? Here?”

“I mean maybe? These kinds of canyons get formed by water, so there's a real chance a flash flood might happen!” At the last statement, he looks nervous. ”Which depending on where we are, could help us or … be bad.”

“How do you know that?” Tango looks up at Jimmy with a gleam of curiosity.

“Well I get bored, and there's this neat little library in the Nether with a lot of unique landscapes and… “

Jimmy and Tango titter off into their own conversation about various formations of rocks and caverns in desert-like terrain. Scar's mind drifts aside as he watches billows of sand blow above them on the top of the ravine. He catches movement out the sides of his eye as Grian shifts.

The sun has moved more in the sky, the shade they had hidden in changing direction. The hot sun finally reaching them, first hitting the feathers on the Grian tail. He must have just noticed as he pushes himself away from it, a scowl on his face while he creeps away and bumps into Scar in the process.

They look up at each other, Grian jumping slightly when he notices he’s being watched, his ears pulling back as he looks away.

“We should get going. You guys rested enough?” He cuts the other two off, Tango drawing in the sand with his claws with Jimmy instructing him.

“Oh sure-” Jimmy replies. He stands, using his large tail to help push him up, before lending a hand to Tango.

Grian stumbles up into a stand on the sandy ground, hissing to himself and mumbling something along the lines of “dumb bird feet”. He looks at Scar who changed to sit with his legs in front of him, inspecting his leg braces and sighing.

“Those aren't meant for the desert, are they?” He holds out a hand which Scar takes, pulling himself to stand.

“Nope! Not really, more like indoor use.”

Grian frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but Tango cuts him off.

“Actually…” The blaze moves towards them, holding a hand behind his back, a snarky look crossing his face.

His gaze is glued directly on Grian as he pulls his uninjured hand out, holding it towards them. Grian's hands are still in Scar’s, he feels Grian's grip tighten subconsciously before he pulls his hand away in favour of crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Tango.

“You want this temporary alliance to go well right?”

“I mean… it would be convenient,” Grian frowns, confused about where Tango is going with this.

“Give me your knife,” Tango flicks his claws beckoning.

“… What?”

“I feel like it's very justified.”

“I'm not giving you my weapon,” Grian snaps, his hand moving to his side subconsciously.

Tango pulls his arm back, crossing it over with the other. “I still don't trust you, our minds would be more at ease if you didn't have that.” He looks up to Jimmy who’s looking over his shoulder, nodding slightly.

Scar looks at Grian whose back is turned to him, but regardless he can see the anger physically welling up, as his feathers stand up and his tail starts to flick back and forth. His claws hovering right above where the blade sits, ready.

“HAH, what do you think I care, there is no way I'd give it to you.” Grian spits.

Scar hears him take in a deep breath, sensing the start of something terrible happening. He takes a slightly stumbling step between them.

“I could take it,” Scar says simply. Both of them look up at him.

“I mean- you both seem to trust me more, so maybe I could carry it for now?” Scar tries, putting on his most easygoing smile. Tango's frown softens slightly, but that isn't who Scar is worried about most. The bird is now looking at him, a lot less spiked up with his mouth slightly open, his eyes searching Scar for something. He looks back to Tango, who just nods to Scar.

“Fine.”

Almost everyone lets out a breath of relief.

Grian pulls out his weapon, quickly, and grins to himself as he watches Jimmy and Tango flinch.

He hands it to Scar and gives him a weird look only he can see before his face morphs into a generally upset pout. Striding past them all, he barks “Follow,” and doesn't wait for them to catch up.

Scar looks at the weapon in his hands, remembering its hold before wedging it into his belt.

—

They continue with their walking, Grian at the front out of frustration over the loss of his weapons. Tango's prying eyes watch him from behind, insisting on being on the lookout for any funny behaviour.

The mood is off. Tango and Grian holding their weird rivalry and Jimmy and Scar lagging behind, looking at each other confused but not quite wanting to start small talk out of fear of getting on the other two nerves. They both opt instead to stare at the ground and savour as much of the shade as they can.

Tango is the first to break the silence.

“I don't think I trust you.”

He has his head facing forward, the anger in his voice enough to indicate he’s talking to Grian.

“I bet you’re one of them.”

“Them?” Grian almost laughs.

“Explains why you have your weapon and not us, why you're so reluctant to share why you might be here. And don't even think I forgot about your oh-so-welcoming greeting,” Tango responds with no amusement in his voice.

“What is your problem with me?”

“I think you're an Ender, a man from the inside sent down to watch us.” He says simply, pushing up his shoulders.

Grian snorts, drawing out his words. “Literally all you have against me is that I have a weapon and I’m a bit of an introvert, that's barely anything,”

“That's not all I have. What about your wings?”

The mood changes instantly, from bickering to an icy, quiet cold.

With that Scar finally looks up at the conversation, they have since all slowed down from walking to a standstill. Grian being the one to stop first as he scowls in Tango's direction.

He doesn't say a word. Tango continues with a malicious look on his face.

“And the arms, they're enchanted, right? I can basically smell it from here. You don't come across enchantments like that in the wild. And that's not even mentioning the level of skill that must have gone into those base robotics, for some random stranger– You'd have to be a part of a pretty powerful faction to get robotics like those and I definitely doubt you're a Vindicator.”

Scar watches Grian flash him a very brief glance at that name. Tango continues unaware.

“I've been around Ender technology enough to recognize its signatures, I used to work with it-”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Grian cuts in coldly with a flat tone.

“I think I do.” Tango challenges, bearing his sharp teeth.

“Hey, hey, what about we uhh, calm down a bit?” Scar interrupts, shrugging his shoulders slightly with an open demeanour.

Tango's wild gaze jumps to him and sticks.

“I think you guys might have all come off on the wrong foot! Ahah,” Scar laughs painedly.

He stalls slightly, almost feeling the heat from Tango start to concentrate on him instead.

“I promise you, Grian is not as stabby as he seems.”

“Oh yeah?” Tango responds incredulously. “Is that why you have a stab wound on your shoulder?” He jabs his finger in the direction of Scar's shoulder, the gauze and tank top stained lightly red.

Scar shoots Grian a look, the other's eyes blown slightly more wide knowingly.

“…Unrelated circumstances,” Scar says simply.

Tango steps closer to Scar, causing him to stumble back slightly, Jimmy awkwardly drifting over his shoulder placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder briefly. “Why are you even sticking up for this guy? Didn't you say you only just met?” Tango all but growls at Scar.

“Well… We're friends.”

“No, there's something else. Something you're not telling us,”

Scar's mouth finds itself ajar, as he tries to think of what to say. Grian is painfully quiet over his shoulder.

Tango takes another step towards Scar, his mind spinning trying to figure out a believable story.

“…We made a deal!” He settles on.

“A deal?” That seems to genuinely take Tango by surprise, his imposing façade faltering.

“Yeah.”

Tango pulls a weird expression before it changes quickly as if struck by an idea. “If you made a deal maybe we could fulfil it instead, then we won't need this guy. I have the contacts, I know my loopholes. If this deal is so much more important, that you'd associate with this guy then choose what I can offer you instead. What even would it be? to you to find yourself associated with someone like him? What was it?”

“I-…” Scar hesitates and turns his gaze to where Grian is standing. The three of them have moved a considerable distance away from him during their argument, but he still stands within audible range, watching quietly.

The bird looks uncomfortable and small, he thinks. His feathers pinning and fingers flicking at his side, right where his blade would have been.

His expression looks complicated, Scar observes, like he’s expecting this situation but still feels a sense of hurt or pain. Weirdly, his gaze is fixed on the blaze rather than Scar, but he can see him fidget and glare as if he knows he’s being looked at, trying his best to avoid eye contact.

Tango coughs shuffling forward in the sand to bring Scar's attention back to him.

Scar had almost forgotten what they had asked. The deal. He wants to know what their deal was. Technically the deal wasn't even that specific, it’s just protection. That's all Grian had promised and even with a weapon, which he no longer had, in comparison to both Tango and Jimmy his usefulness might be matched.

Grian's expression makes sense now, he’s fully expecting Scar to take this deal.

Scar looks back at Grian, catching him looking at Scar before he darts his eyes away.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t understand why Tango is so hostile, it feels unjustified. Like he’s missing something, which is impossible. He's known Grian longer than Tango. Grian is barely a threat, yeah awkward, maybe a little impulsive and snide. But Scar doesn’t believe that justifies leaving him behind. Why is there so much bitterness between his newly acquainted companions? Why is Tango so insistent on Grian being a bad person? These questions circle around in Scar's head as he tries to think of some way he can defend Grian.

“We were going to start up a very specific business.” Scar grins.

“… What?”

“Trading goods. See, I need him because he’s got those fancy wings,” he gestures towards Grian, who’s badly concealing his bewilderment, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly, no sound escaping.

“What are you trading?”

Scar mulls it over before looking at the ground and shrugging. “….sand.”

Despite everything, Grian laughs at that. Coughing and suppressing giggles when the blazeborn shoots him a look.

“Sand?” Jimmy almost yells.

Tango taps at his chin in thought. “I- I mean I could maybe…”

Scar interrupts him. “No no no, I'm a dignified salesman. I made a deal and stayed true to my word. I'm sorry but I'll have to decline the offer,” he replies with an easy-going demeanour.

“We're now a package deal now,” he walks up to stand by Grian's side, patting his shoulder roughly.

Grian's only response is to make an awkward noise and to lean away from Scar, but not enough to actually break the space they share.

Tango looks at them both, an angry look directed at the two. Suddenly, Jimmy places a hand on his shoulder.

“I think we should just play along, even if we're suspicious of someone. I think we need all the help we can get.” The taller man says down to him, smiling slightly.

Tango takes in Jimmy's look, his frown smoothing out for a brief second before he looks back at Scar.

“Maybe I don't trust you now Scar, you've clearly also got secrets you're not telling us,”

“You're getting too caught up on secrets and mysteries, and supposed ‘them’s,” Scar puts on a wide smile, waving at the air with a nonchalant attitude.

“How about… G!” He slings his arm around Grian and pushes him in closer to the other two, while the bird sputters slightly at the new nickname.

“Promise you won't stab any of us in the back until we're free from this …game?” Scar holds him by his shoulders. Grian flinches slightly as he tries to look up at Scar only to get a face full of sun. The glare looks back at the other two, not saying a word, his ears flicking absently.

“Grian!” Scar nudges him.

“Yes, sure,” he says flatly. He crosses his arms. “I promise.”

Scar beams, looking at Tango and Jimmy. “Annddddd do you guys promise not to belittle my friend here for being a bit creepy?”

The both of them hesitate, looking up at each other, exchanging looks.

“I feel creepy is an understatement…” Tango scoffs.

“We promise,” Jimmy says at the same time.

Scar claps his hands together, Grian flinching and holding his ears at the noise. “See! Solved! We're now a team!”

No one celebrates, they all look at each other with uncomfortable hesitation, not at all meeting Scar's enthusiasm. He hops on his toes, ushering the others forward, getting them to start walking again.

“Team… yellow.” Scar looks around at his company, all pulling different forms of confused faces. “Why are you all blond?”

—

After several hours of walking, the sun had begun to dip over the horizon. They were all able to confirm the revelation that this planet has a pretty short day cycle.

The journey had been painfully awkward. Tango and Jimmy spent most of it talking between themselves, sometimes hushed, which Grian pretended not to notice. He’d closed off slightly despite Scar trying to start a conversation with him several times. It was a stark contrast to how they were in the morning. Scar missed their smallest interactions deeply.

At one point Tango had instructed Scar not to walk so close to Grian, mumbling that he could take his weapon back so easily with how close they were walking. Scar tried to argue, but Grian complied, closing himself off even more as he walked ahead of them.

They’re now settling in for sleep, taking turns in pairs, Tango not trusting Grian to be lookout alone.

Tango and Jimmy lay backed up into the shelter of an overhang, while Scar and Grian sit at the entrance, a considerable distance away.

“Wow- it got dark quicker. Darker than yesterday even,” Scar hums. The sky’s a deep, dark blue rather than the red of last night. Scar shivers, it’s also considerably colder.

“Yeah,” Grian murmurs.

“I bet this is really comforting for you, gloomy dim light,” Scar leans back looking towards where he assumes Grian is sitting, it’s pretty hard to tell.

“Yeah.”

Scar turns back and frowns to himself. It seems Grian is still acting distant, even with Tango and Jimmy snoring peacefully behind them.

“Hmm … wish I could see in the dark though, can't find-”

With far too much force Scar reaches forward, ramming his wrist into a rock wall. He winces. “Ow…”

“Are you okay?” Grian asks from his side, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah… just, there's a wall there.”

Scar continues to blindly stumble in the dark, searching for his jacket. Suddenly there’s a warm glow, illuminating his surroundings. Scar's mind is slow to process as small flickers of light drift into his peripheral vision, like some combination of fire embers and little lightning bugs.

He jumps backwards, his knee slipping out from under him. “Oh oh oh– what is that!?”

He looks around in shock at the small fiery creatures, before his eyes make contact with Grian who looks completely unconcerned about them. Scar then realises the glare is actually slightly amused at Scars' fright.

“Oh, are you doing that?”

“Yeah… lights to see what you're doing,” Grian mutters somewhat shyly, looking at the space between them. Scar sits back down, reaching for his jacket now that the dim glow has lit up the area.

“Oh! Thanks!” He puts the jacket on, grumbling about the discovery that it isn’t as comfortable inside out. But at least it still keeps the cold at bay so he isn’t about to complain too much.

He watches the tiny lights float in the air. They spin and twirl into themselves, dancing around one another. Scar slowly recognizes the shapes of tiny phantoms, just like the ones from yesterday but smaller and made out of sunlight.

“… Aren't these technically illusion magic?” Scar thinks, not even realising he’s saying it out loud.

He looks to Grian when he hears a shuddered breath, “…oh I guess so,” Grian wraps his arms around his knees, pressing his face into them with a soulful expression.

Unlike the tired apathy he has been carrying, this look is pained and hurt, the little illusions dimming as if in response.

Scar holds his hand out catching one between his fingers. It flutters and whirls in his palm, never quite touching his skin. Scar can swear he can feel its warmth, even though he knows he’s most likely imagining it.

“Well …I like them. They're very cute,” Scar smiles, looking at Grian as he holds one of the tiny beasts in between his hands.

Grian looks up at him, half his face obscured, and that sad look still in his eyes.

“You’re very talented,” Scar pokes at the illusion in his hand, feeling nothing as his finger phases through it. The illusion still dancing and spinning as if it was affected by the force.

“…Thanks,” Grian responds, muffled. A small smile creeps into his features at Scar's compliment.

They fall back into a still quiet state. Scar pushes the illusion back into the air with the others, leaning against the wall as he watches them dance.

“A game huh? I wonder why I'm here…” He muses. Not really expecting an answer from the glare, more filling the air.

“Tango said that we all must have wronged an Ender in our past… But I don't think I have- aside from being a Vindicator… I wonder…” He mulls over ideas in his mind, but there honestly isn't much he can think of. He's never been that involved in the field, and he barely even knows if he'd recognize an Ender if he saw one.

Naturally, Scar's gaze drifts to his company. Grian seems to be as deep in thought as him, his brows deep and ears pinned back, upset.

“Are you… okay?” Scar asks.

Grian looks up at him, his eyes following each line on Scar's face before responding. “Have you decided if I'm a good guy or bad guy yet?”

Scar tilts his head, that’s a very particular kind of question. He leans his head back, taking in the sandy walls striped with different warm shades of colour.

“I don't…” he sighs. “I think I'm starting to realise it's a lot more complex than I thought it all was.”

“Yeah,” Grian mumbles.

“What do you think you are?”

That oh-so-familiar quiet rears its head again. Scar starts to think he isn't going to answer him until, finally, he’s proven wrong.

“… I don't think I'm either, I don't think there really are good guys and bad guys, at least that it's not so black and white most of the time.”

Scar tilts his head down to look at Grian. The bird has now wrapped his tail around his feet, he's almost perfectly wound, aside from his wings that lay out behind him, tired. He's not looking at Scar, but instead at his own illusions that continue to float in the space between them.

Scar looks at them as well. “… I think you're good.”

Grian shifts uncomfortably, raising his head high enough that Scar can see the pained grin he wears.

“Haha god–” he pulls one arm out from being wrapped around his leg and pushes it hard into one side of his face. “You really need to pick better alliances, you really don't know me…”

Scar tilts his head from side to side.

“Well then tell me… do you think you're bad?” He asks simply.

Grian doesn't answer straight away. Instead, he digs his nails slightly into his scalp and looks to his side, very quietly hissing in a breath.

“… I’m trying to be a better person than I was,” he says, almost below a whisper.

“Well, that's something! Bad people don't tend to want to change,” Scar smiles reassuringly. Catching Grian’s eyes and putting on the most friendly expression he can muster.

Grian doesn't seem to buy it though, he pushes his head back into his knees. This time leaning his face away from Scar.

They both sit there, not uttering another word for a few minutes. Scar looks again at the illusions. He wonders what it was like to summon them, and then to keep concentrating on them. Grian doesn't even seem to be paying them much mind, his head buried in his metal limbs. Yet they still dance softly in the air. Maybe it was a soothing thing to conjure and maintain. Grian's feathers certainly imply he's a lot less stressed compared to how they’ve been most of the day.

Scar watches as Grian taps his long taloned fingers against his arm in boredom, the sound resonating in their small space. Metal against metal. Scar stares absently at them, Grian’s head is turned away, so he doesn't feel so bad about picking up on the smaller details he can see now he's this close.

They look slightly scratched, the deep black of the metal is scuffed in places, turning a dark grey. Up this close Scar notices how the robotics look, unfinished. Like they’re just a frame, the mechanisms, and wires open to the world, no protective shell. He can see some of the wires have tape around them, stuck haphazardly to the inside as if they had been snagged and pushed in deeper to avoid being torn again. It strikes Scar as odd. They look incomplete, yet when Grian taps his fingers they move with the fluidity of an organic limb, the small mechanisms barely even make a sound.

“Is it true what he said about enchanted robotics?” Scar asks spontaneously.

Grian lifts his head, that cold look returning once again. He pulls his arms from being wrapped around his legs into his lap, still curled up in his position.

“So, you do think I'm an Ender,” he says plainly.

“Well– I mean– You're not doing much to refute being one,” Scar tries, chuckling under his breath.

“I'm not an Ender,” Grian responds coldly, the least bit amused.

Moving uncomfortably, Scar breaths in, dropping his smile for a genuine look. “And I choose to believe you.”

Grian looks unconvinced. “But you still think I am,” he says slowly.

“… I don't think anything.” Scar argues, interrupted by a surprising chuckle.

“Well, I knew that much already.”

“I– hey!”

Grian giggles to himself, it lays bittersweet on his face when he falls off into silence.

Scar finishes what he’d been saying. “I don't like to assume things.”

With that Grian looks at Scar, really looks at him. The deep dark pools of his eyes squint and scrutinise him. Scar thinks the reflections of the illusions in his eyes look like stars.

“You liked to assume I'm a good person.”

“That's different, I have evidence,” Scar responds cheerfully.

“And what Tango stated wasn't?” He squeaks, baffled, unwinding from his ball more to throw his arms out.

“It didn't feel fair.”

“Fair–” Grian parrots back in disbelief, almost sneering to himself.

“Besides, I feel like it might be hypocritical of me to be upset that you're hiding who you are.”

Grian folds his arms back over himself looking away. “But that's different, I know what you're hiding– I was the one to even suggest it–” He says bitterly.

“Well– maybe I also have my own secrets,” Scar winks.

With a slightly more light in his voice, Grian leans his chin on his knees. “I doubt that– you like talking too much.”

Scar laughs at that, then sits forward holding a finger up as the little illusions swim around him. “You truly underestimate the power of talking, my friend. You can know anything and be given anything by talking, whereas violence enlists the opposite. It cuts you off from ever knowing more. People love talking, and I love secrets. It's an art, really.”

“Why did you become a Vindicator then? If anything they're very for violence and anti-information,” Grian mumbles, looking up at him with a raised brow.

Scar winks again, but this time taps his nose, “For secrets,” he says simply.

Grian rolls his eyes and laughs. “Ah,” He smiles, slipping slightly at the edges. He taps at his arm again. “You sort of concern me,” he huffs. “I don't get you.”

“Well I mean secrets—” Scar starts.

Grian cuts him off, waving a hand. “No no, that's not what I'm talking about…” He rests his hand back down onto his knee looking straight at Scar. “You have this inexplicable blind faith in me and I don't understand why,” his nose scrunches up. “Now, either you're really dumb or …”

Scar splutters trying to defend himself, but Grian continues, closing his eyes.

“I don't know…” He titters.

“I'm just very curious.”

“… about me?”

“Yeah! If you're not going to tell me who you are, then I guess I'll have to get to know you,” Scar grins.

“Usually when people are investigating someone, they don't straight up tell them to their face,” Grian bobs his head smirking.

“And I'm not investigating you,” Scar argues, “it's called companionship— becoming friends. You do have those don't you?” Scar tilts his head.

Grian grins up at him. “Well, you see—” Leaning forward, beckons Scar to follow his movement, before pulling back suddenly.

“That! Was obviously an investigation,” he laughs unfooled.

“Worth a try,” Scar shrugs, also leaning back.

They both become quiet. A cool breeze blows at the feathers on Grian's tail. The little light illusions move through the air slowly, unbothered by the physical realm. Grian holds his hands out, as they all drift over to him, curling up neatly in his hands.

He looks at Scar who’s watching, intrigued, and flashes his teeth in a smile, before closing his hands together, extinguishing the light. Only slight shimmers make it out past his fingers, as Scar watches him push his palms hard against each other still looking at him.

He opens his hands to reveal one creature, slightly bigger than the ones from earlier curled up in his hands. Its form is slightly more detailed, its warm light shimmering with blues and pink at the tips. It bares its tiny teeth as if yawning, and stretches out from its sleepy curl. Grian pushes it up into the air, the small creature imitating catching air in its wings and drifting off into the space in front of them.

“I uh—” Grian interrupts nervously, pulling Scars' gaze away from the illusion. “Thank you! For sticking up for me back there.” He holds a small smile, pained at the edges.

“I honestly wouldn't have held it against you if you took their offer and ran… but—” He coughs and shakes his head. “I guess what I'm saying is it was nice, very foolish… we literally have so many lies to navigate now, it’s a walking nightmare… but it was very kind of you.”

Scar beams, almost wiggling in excitement. “Hey! We're a package deal now!”

The bird rolls his eyes but keeps his smile. “Ugh.”

He pulls his legs out in front of him, his wings lifting off the dusty floor. He shakes them off from the dust before folding them behind his back neatly. He gives Scar a tired look.

Scar shuffles forward waving his hands out, not done with the conversation just yet.

“Seriously! I like you!” Grian flicks him a nervous look, making a confused noise that almost sounds like a chirp. Scar itches his head and elaborates. “I'm glad we've gotten to meet each other again. Under different circumstances.”

Grian's wide grin falters. His eyes drift to the left side of Scar's face, darting away and looking at the ground instead.

“And let’s hope we leave this one better then, aye?” His hesitant grimaces switch to a small but genuine smile.

“I owe at least that to you,” he adds.

Scar nods.

It never occurred to him that they’ll have to part ways at some point, for some reason that thought never crossed his mind, and it makes him sad. He’s a Vindicator and Grian was, probably still is, a criminal. It would be hard to meet up with someone actively imprisoned, and that’s even if Grian cares enough to risk that. Considering he said the words leave, he must have assumed they'll likely never meet again.

It makes Scar feel a little sour, he was having the most fun time here, even with the lingering death and tense energy directed at his new friend. He'd had more fun being kidnapped and disregarded on some random planet than he ever had on a shift.

Scar watches the illusion spin, he doesn't need to dwell on it too much, this adventure is starting to appear long and treacherous, he should just enjoy what he has left of it and Grian’s company.

Scar puts light into his voice, eyes still set on the glowing creature.

“Now shall we discuss at length about our sand trader backstory?”

Grian snorts.

He looks at him to watch Grian fake an obvious yawn. “Wow! I'm suddenly very tired.”

Scar smiles more genuinely this time.

“I’ll be called ‘Scorn’ and you'll be my faithful lackey ‘Giran’”

“They already know our names why-” Grian wheezes, before holding his palms up. ”You know what- nah, actually I'm asleep right now- and actively not engaging” He lays down closing his eyes.

“Best friends,” Scar continues. “Found abandoned as children together in a sandbox, oh that could be where the trading started!”

Grian rolls over away from Scar, pulling his wings pointedly over his head.

“I'M SLEEPING! Can't hear you over how loudly I'm sleeping right now-” he says slightly muffled, starting to laugh. Before he chuckles loudly to himself.

He suddenly sits up quickly and holds his hands tight over his mouth, Scar noticing the noise of someone grumbling tiredly.

He sees a shadow of Tango toss in his sleep before settling again.

Scar and Grian both exchange a look, Grian trying his hardest to hold onto a laugh before he coughs one into his hands, hushing him. Scar joins in wheezing.

They both sit, in a warm glow, laughing quietly between themselves as the night continues.

[mrrharper]

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.

Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.

He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.

It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.

Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.

Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.

What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.

Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.

And then he tried to move.

Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.

Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.

Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...

Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.

A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.

"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.

"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.

"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."

"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.

"Look. The artist — that Gary what's-his-name — knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."

"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.

Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.

The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.

"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.

Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.

Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.

Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.

The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.

"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."

"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."

"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.

Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.

His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.

I am Uncontrolled Power.

Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?

Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.

The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?

You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!

Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.

I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!

If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.

Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!

[ffsg0jo]

𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓[𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘] - 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1

no way. there's absolutely no way you're tutoring sukuna. never in a million years, not if there was a gun to your head, not if.... gojo's willing pay?? maybe you can make arrangements, after all you're always happy to help >_<

college au - various x fem! reader

warnings: swearing, sukuna, ooc characters, mentions of pregnancy (NOT the reader)

w/c: 2500 words+ (somewhat proofread)

a/n: this chapter took so so long and i apologise for that :(( thank you to @storiesoflilies for beta reading and for the encouragement!! and thank you to everyone who left a lovely comment too. they honestly give me so much motivation and energy to write more <33

series masterlist :: general masterlist

join the taglist here to be tagged in future chapters <33

previous chapter :: next chapter

it was a beautiful and blessed day. somehow, the stars aligned, and you and shoko managed to wrap up your lectures early and go for lunch together. heaven knows you needed a break, and its light truly was shining down on you.

shoko, being a med student, had a packed timetable, and you rarely saw each other. you missed your best friend and spending your free time tutoring was taking a toll on you.

with your lunches comfortably settled into your stomachs, you both turned to your favourite pastime. gossiping.

“you know that one third year?”

“which one shoko? there’s literally hundreds?”

“the rude one, shit i’ve forgotten her name,” shoko rubs her forehead with one hand, a cigarette in the other. she puffs out smoke, manoeuvring her lips so it avoids hitting your face. “with the long brown hair? spilt her drink on you on purpose?”

“ohh you mean yorozu?” you say, finally realising who she was talking about.

you remembered that day like it was yesterday. you were sitting in the library tutoring geto when all of a sudden gojo comes waltzing in looking for him, his entourage hot on his tail.

apparently, yorozu didn’t like geto’s attention being on you (even though you were there for strictly business purposes), and ‘accidentally’ dropped her drink in your lap.

that might’ve been the only time gojo had been somewhat nice to you, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his pocket and offering you his jacket to cover up the stain.

still, it didn’t make up for the other 99 times he was a prick. and it only made yorozu hate you more.

you pause, taking a sip from your mug. “i don’t want to be mean, but she’s such a bitch.”

“she literally made fun of professors toji’s daughter who’s terminally ill, there’s a special place in hell for her,” shoko paused and took a long drag of her cigarette before continuing. “anyways apparently she’s pregnant with that one third year with the facial tattoos.”

your mouth falls open in shock, and the mug nearly falls out of your grasp.

“choso?!? choso got her pregnant?!!? there’s no way, choso would never, he’s so sweet! and if he did he’d tell me!”

“not choso you dumbass. sukuna.”

“oh,” you deadpan. “him.”

sukuna, whilst you’ve had the pleasure of never really interacting, was one of gojo’s little friends. you really didn’t want to judge people on appearances, but sukuna lived up to his expectations.

for the most part, he’d ignore you when gojo relentlessly bothered you. but sometimes you’d catch him giving you the dirtiest and most scathing looks. as if you personally replaced the feathers in his pillow with dog shit. how he and yuuji, the absolute sweetheart of a first year you tutored, were brothers was beyond you.

snorting at the look on your face, shoko brings her cigarette up to her mouth once more.

“wait sukuna?” you said somewhat confused. “i thought she was with geto?”

“they weren’t together. she was fucking both and was trying to sleep with gojo too.”

“how on earth do you know all of this?”

“gojo has a big mouth, and we have lab together.”

you hum in acknowledgement, remembering shoko complaining at the beginning of last semester, about how much of an annoyance he was.

“what about nanami?” you asked, trying to act nonchalant and disinterested. he was part of their friend group, and he could be considered attractive by a lot of people (definitely not your own words), so it was only natural to ask, you rationalise. shoko gives you a pointed look, slightly raising her eyebrow.

“she hasn’t slept with him if that’s what you’re worried about, she thinks he’s ‘too boring’.”

‘too boring my ass’ you mutter to yourself. nanami was one of the best listeners and conversationalists, you know, if not the best. and he was funny! sure, maybe his humour wasn’t for everyone, but his dry and witty remarks had you snorting ten out of ten times.

a part of you almost sighed in relief that nanami hadn’t fallen into her trap. she was beautiful and looked like a model. and whilst you were confident in your looks, you were certain you didn’t stand a chance next to her.

a sudden ping pulls you out of your thoughts. sheepishly apologising to shoko, you turn to put your phone on silent. she waves her hand at your apology and takes one last drag of her cigarette before stamping it out on the ashtray.

you quickly check the notification, eyebrows furring at the unknown number. shoko sees the look on your face and asks if everything’s okay. instead of responding, you show her the message.

‘hey it’s sukuna. need a tutor u free?’

speaking of the devil, you wonder how he got your number and why he thought to message you of all people. probably through yuuji, but he would’ve asked if you were okay with it first. you just got rid of a student, and you wanted some time to yourself. also, sukuna of all people wanted a tutor?!? he barely shows up to lectures and seminars there’s no way he’s serious about studying.

“just ignore him,” shoko said, seeing the turmoil on your face. for once, you decided to agree with her and took her advice. she’s right, you’re not obliged to tutor anyone, especially not someone like sukuna. you were trying to distance yourself from that group to avoid trouble anyway.

sighing you lock your phone, ignoring his message and turning back to shoko.

before long you’ve completely forgotten about his message, caught up in shoko’s wild escapades.

it had almost been a week since sukuna first messaged you, and you still hadn’t responded. truthfully, sukuna had forgotten about it after a day or two. but then his academic advisor scheduled a meeting for him to discuss his future at the university, and he panicked, suddenly remembering his message.

‘too nice and too scared’ to refuse him his ass. nothing but pure waffle comes out of gojo’s mouth, he doesn’t know why they’re still friends if he’s being honest.

“why the sour face?”

sukuna turns to the girl lying beside him and resists rolling his eyes. he was hoping she’d have left by now, but here she was, on his bed. her hand on his chest was slowly moving further down.

“none ya business, don’t ya have anywhere to be?” he bites back.

the girl’s eyes narrow as she stares at sukuna coldly. retracting her hand, she moves off the bed and picks her clothes up off the floor, taking her time in putting her tights on.

“scan’s next week, baby should be the size of a plum, you coming?”

“’s not mine, go ask the twelve other guys you’ve slept with.”

yorozu falters, her dress still bunched up around her midsection. she turns away from him, rushing to roll her dress down and moves to the door. a part of sukuna feels bad, he really shouldn’t be nasty, but he was adamant the child wasn’t his. even at her insistence on her being on birth control, he never once went without a condom.

once she hurried out of his room, he let out a massive sigh. god, where did it all go wrong? here he was, about to flunk out of uni, potentially be stuck paying child support for the rest of his life, and loveless.

at least his brat brother was doing well. yuuji and sukuna were like night and day, but he thanked every god out there for the way yuuji turned out. sure, he was a little stupid at times, but his brother always gave it his all and had the purest heart. the effort he put into raising yuuji really paid off.

“morning kuna,” yuuji chirped as sukuna walked into the kitchen of their shared apartment. of course, he was already up and making breakfast for the two. “i’d ask if you slept well, but i saw that girl running out of your room.”

sukuna only grunted, scratching his bare stomach in response. yuuji continues scrambling the eggs as sukuna grabs two plates from the cupboards and places them next to the stove.

“dunno why you’re still with her kuna. i support all women, don’t get me wrong, but she’s horrible! the things she’s said about gumi’s sister, i’m embarrassed to know her by association!”

“s’nothing to do with me, quit yappin.”

yuuji side eyes his older brother with a look of disgust on his face. why sukuna insists on sleeping with her is beyond him. he knows for a fact sukuna has zero feelings for the girl and is just using her.

yuuji tuts and shakes his head, plating up the eggs and moving to the dining table where they both tuck in.

“thanks for breakfast brat,” sukuna says, mouth full of food,

“no problem big bro,” yuuji beams.

the youngest itadori glances at his watch and jumps up suddenly, realising the time and leaving his breakfast half uneaten. he runs into his room and comes back out 3 seconds later with a bunch of textbooks and papers.

“(name)’s coming over for our study session, she should be here now.”

you tutored yuuji? since when? just as sukuna’s about to ask his little brother someone knocks on the door of their apartment.

you were feeling good today. with a lecture in the afternoon, you thought you’d fit in one of your students for an early study session, and who better than yuuji. he worked better in the mornings, and he was a pleasure to teach, so you were actually quite looking forward to it.

you knock on yuuji’s door and anxiously wait for him to open the door. you hear the lock turn, and the door creaks open; your face falls upon seeing who’s on the other side. the universe must hate you.

you’ve never once ran into sukuna whilst tutoring yuuji, thanking your lucky stars every day. but the one time you wanted to avoid him at all costs he’s there in all his glory.

there sukuna’s stood, topless and in his boxers, his bulky torso managing to take up the whole doorframe.

eyes naturally falling to his chest, you notice the tattoos across his body. the rings around his biceps and wrists, the delicious markings across the expanse of his torso, they complement the ones on his face so well, and you can appreciate good art when you see it.

wait, delicious? you snap out of your thoughts and meet sukuna’s gaze, who’s smirking down at you, having noticed your oogling. your face instantly morphs into a scowl.

“take a picture it’ll last longer”

“is yuuji home?” you say, choosing to ignore his words for your own sanity.

“aww you embarrassed about being caught staring?”

“it’s too early for this, if yuuji’s not home i can come back another day.” stepping back, you turn to walk away, but yuuji’s out-of-breath shriek stops you.

“kuna stop bothering her! ‘m here (name), was in a rush getting everything ready, just come in.”

you brush past sukuna, your elbow grazing his warm, bare skin. willing yourself to not think about it, you follow yuuji into the living room, where everything’s set up.

surprisingly, sukuna leaves you both alone whilst you’re tutoring yuuji, choosing to take his breakfast into his room after forcing yuuji to finish his first. sukuna was many things, but a bad brother was not one of them you realised.

a part of your heart softened seeing him take care of yuuji, glad he had that support system in his life. but the other part of you got the heebie jeebies.

still, the last thing you wanted was sukuna to confront you about his message, knowing you had ignored it. as yuuji’s session was drawing to a close, you started forming an escape plan. if you ran fast enough, you could avoid ever bumping into sukuna on the off chance he decided to confront you. and if you just grabbed your shoes and put them on outside the apartment complex you’d be even quicker!

with your plan ready and all thought out, as soon as yuuji finished his last question, you packed up, said your goodbyes, and bolted towards the door. it was like you had developed tunnel vision, blurring everything out except the door. you were so close, and so far, there was no sign of sukuna. you could do this! you could pull this off!

“leavin without saying goodbye?”

you stopped in your tracks, recognising the irritating voice coming from behind you. maybe if you just ignored him he’d go away?

you couldn’t though, you raised yourself with good enough manners, so begrudgingly, you turn around to face sukuna.

sukuna had a massive smirk on his face. he saw the way you almost ran towards the door, evidently trying to avoid bumping into him. it was actually quite comical, to be honest.

he did feel a little bad for you. you didn’t have the best experiences with him and his friends, so it was somewhat understandable. but gojo would not stop talking about how you were smart and a great tutor, and he really needed someone’s help.

sukuna would never admit it, but the textbook and the hundreds of research papers were completely inaccessible to him. he couldn’t understand the results sections to even decipher whether the results were shown to be significant or not. and why do people accept the null hypothesis? what even is the null hypothesis? and what is that funky little r he sees everywhere?

anyway, the bottom line is he really needed the help. sukuna sighed and realised he needed to come at this from a different angle.

“listen ‘m sorry about ambushing you, but i really need a tutor.”

the apology and defeat in his voice struck you off guard. maybe you were wrong about sukuna. maybe he just had a really angry resting face all those times he stared at you like you murdered his family.

“can’t you ask anyone else,” you replied

“not many people can get through yuuji’s thick skull, so you must be one helluva tutor. and gojo'll pay for your time.”

you raised your eyebrows at that, not believing satoru gojo would be willing to pay you for tutoring someone else. regardless if he truly was, you weren't going to say no to money. especially since he was known throughout the university for his trust fund.

your shoulders dropped, and you looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of what to do. he was being uncharacteristically nice about it, and you can never say no to people when they’re polite. plus the money would be good.

“fine,” you acquiesced. “i’ll do it.”

“wait seriously?”

“yes, but i can only do wednesday afternoons.”

“perfect-“

“but not this wednesday, we’ll start next week.”

“got it, next wednesday.”

sukuna was half expecting you to say no, but he’d take it. he gruffly thanked you, saying he’d message you about further details later and left you to put your shoes on in peace.

slipping them on, you mourned your no longer free wednesdays. you’d worry about lesson plans and everything later, but for now, you needed some strong coffee to get you through the rest of the day.

what had you gotten yourself into?

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve was doing this for Robin.

He had to keep telling himself this. He could get through the day, the weekend, life, if he just kept repeating this to himself.

But an hour into their day, his pants ripped.

Not in a place it can be hidden, not a small one.

Right along his ass.

And because Robin insisted he’d be fine, he didn’t bring a bag with a change of clothes.

He could buy some, sure, if he wanted to spend $60 on special convention sweatpants that would be entirely too hot, unflattering, and ruin the costume Robin insisted he wear to match hers.

He was hiding in the bathroom currently, furiously texting Robin to let her know he was just going to stay there until it was time to leave.

She’d be mad at him, but she’d be more mad at herself for not letting him bring a change of clothes.

His pants weren’t even tight. Luke Skywalker doesn’t exactly wear tight clothes. He had no reason behind the rip other than the universe just hating him as much as possible.

Robin told him she would find someone to help, whatever that means, but he didn’t think that was possible without just buying new pants.

He stood in the corner of the continuously crowded bathroom, trying not to draw attention, but knowing it was incredibly odd to just stand in the corner of a public bathroom.

Ten minutes passed and a guy walked in with a backpack and a sign that says “Free Cosplay Repair” and Steve knew what Robin had done.

The man was pretty, and not dressed up, but seemed like he wished he was. Maybe it was difficult to repair if he was wearing some elaborate costume.

Steve didn’t know how this worked.

“Are you Steve?”

Steve nodded.

His voice was calming, and Steve instantly trusted him to fix the problem.

“Heard you’ve got a bit of a problem with the costume. Big or small?”

“Uh. Pretty big, man.”

“Ah. Tear along the ass, then. Happens all the time.”

He set his backpack down and started rummaging through the front pocket. When he pulled out a sewing kit, Steve realized he was going to have to get this fixed in a public bathroom with this very attractive man staring at and touching his ass for who knows how long.

“Um.”

“It’ll be better if you can take them off. I’ll be able to sew it much faster.”

Steve couldn’t just stand around in his boxers. That was not part of the plan or the agreement with Robin. People were coming and going from the bathroom at a rapid rate.

“Is there somewhere private we can go?”

“Awww, Stevie, feeling shy?”

Steve’s face was beet red. He was feeling a little shy, and being called out on it by a hot guy kind of made him think about being called out on other things in other ways and his brain was not doing well.

“My name’s Eddie. I come with my friend Chrissy to a bunch of these every year. We have a tent set up on the show floor for privacy, but you’d have to walk to it. I could walk behind you if you want?”

“Oh. Okay. Um. Sure.”

It was better than standing half naked in this bathroom.

So they left, and Eddie stayed right behind him, covering him from possible exposure to the growing crowd.

He would lean forward and direct him to the tent every few seconds, leaving goosebumps behind from how close he got to his ear to be heard.

When they arrived, Chrissy was finishing up with supergluing something to a mask. Eddie touched her shoulder and whispered something to her. She rolled her eyes and smiled at him before turning back to the person she was helping.

Eddie nudged Steve into their tent.

“Alright, shouldn’t take too long. Take them off, Luke.”

Steve rolled his eyes but followed directions. The faster this was done, the faster he could get back to Robin, who was probably so deep into the crowd by now that he’d never find her anyways.

Maybe he should just stay here. Learn to sew. Become a part of their traveling repair team.

They seemed nice enough.

Eddie got started immediately, and Steve was grateful for the privacy the tent provided. He sat down on a stool they had set up in the corner and put his hands in his lap, covering as much of himself as he could. He was definitely not confident in this place.

He’d embraced that he liked some nerdy things. He was fine with it.

But he was way out of his element here.

“You come to these a lot?”

“No. Just supporting my friend.”

“Explains not being as prepared as the pros.”

“I did try to be. My friend said I’d be fine. Don’t know why I listened to her.”

Eddie snorted. “She a friend or a…friend?”

Steve laughed so loudly, Eddie jumped. “Sorry. She’s very much not straight and I am very much not interested.”

“Is she Leia?”

“Yeah.”

“Everyone will assume you’re together, you know?”

“Yeah, well. She said I had to and I owed her.”

“Must’ve done you a big favor.”

“You could say that.”

Eddie’s hands were moving quickly, and Steve couldn’t help watching in amazement.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“What? Sewing? Or conventions?”

“Both.”

Eddie smiled while he worked.

“Sewing since I was 11. I was in charge of fixing my and my uncle’s clothes since we couldn’t really afford new ones unless I outgrew them. Then in high school I did costumes for drama and cheerleaders. That’s how I met Chrissy. She was a secret nerd so she took me to a convention and I saw too many people crying over broken and torn cosplays so I started doing this.”

“For free?”

“Yeah. I already had most of the supplies on hand and I’m not using them all so why not?”

“That’s really…kind.”

He saw Eddie’s cheeks blush, but he didn’t comment.

Maybe he’d gain some upper hand here despite being half naked in a tent with a stranger.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is, man. Just take the compliment. It’s really selfless.”

“Okay. Yeah. I guess. Thanks.”

They settled into a comfortable silence and Steve really took in the tent. There were things hanging up that he vaguely recognized as D&D monsters from Dustin’s room.

“Hey, the kid I babysit is into that.”

“What?”

“The dungeons game.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I think he even has that exact print in his room.”

“No shit? I made these. I have an Etsy shop.”

“You’re kidding. He’s gonna freak out that I met you.”

“Well, shit. Take one for him.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah you could. I’m not letting you leave until you do.”

Steve felt his heart flutter.

Dustin was like his little brother and he loved him so much. Any time someone did something kind for him, it melted his heart.

He didn’t have time for feelings for a stranger.

Not at a convention where he was the outcast.

“I guess if you insist.”

“I do.”

Steve was a fucking mess. Emotionally, he was the type to get really attached really quickly. It’s why all of his relationships ended within weeks. He was ready to be completely committed and they never were. He fell hard and fast for anyone who showed him even a tiny bit of interest.

He had to get out of this tent.

“I’m not rushing you, but how much longer?”

“I’m almost done. Few more minutes. Doing okay?”

“Yeah. Just wanna find Robin.”

“Text her to meet you here. She knows where it is.”

“How would she know that?”

“I’ve met her a few times at other conventions and she always stops by to say hello.”

Robin knew this guy?

Suddenly, he realized what was going on.

She was setting him up.

“Take your time. She can wait.”

Eddie slowed his hands and looked up at Steve.

“Uh. Okay.”

“She’s a traitor who did this to me on purpose.”

“Ripped your pants?”

“Yes.”

Eddie stopped what he was doing completely.

“She ripped your pants on purpose? How would she have done that?”

“She pulled a seam out or something.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s trying to set us up.”

“Us?!”

“Yep. Sorry. I promise I don’t expect anything. She just does this sometimes. Thinks I’m lonely or whatever.”

Eddie searched his face for a minute, then looked back down at his work.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Lonely.”

Well, yeah. Robin didn’t get the assumption from nowhere. But he didn’t really want to admit that to a stranger.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Apparently, he was going to anyways.

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Mhm.”

Steve huffed out a breath.

Eddie stood suddenly and came over to Steve, pushing his shoulder back and his legs apart so he could fit between them.

Eddie’s hand cupped his chin, pulling it up so he could look at him.

Steve gulped.

He was feeling more than vulnerable at this point and wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Your friend must really love you to want to make sure you aren’t lonely.”

“Um. Yeah.”

“You know, I’m taking a lunch break in about an hour if you wanna hang around. I could use some company.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. One condition though.”

“What’s that?”

“You take the pants off again.”

Steve laughed and Eddie couldn’t help the smile he aimed down at him.

“You want me to eat in just my boxers?”

“Well, not just your boxers. That’ll be later at the hotel.”

God, this guy was good. Smoother than Steve’s ever been and he was known for his charming nature for years.

“You think I’ll come back to your hotel?”

“I know you will.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I only temporarily fixed these pants. The stuff you need is back at my room.”

“What if I don’t care about the pants?”

“All the more reason to leave them off when you come to my room.”

They smiled at each other.

Steve felt brave. He felt a little ridiculous. Most of all, he felt like he couldn’t pass up the opportunity literally staring him in the face.

He leaned up a bit more and waited for Eddie to lean down.

When their lips met, Steve knew he was completely fucked.

Robin had fucked him over and he’d never been so grateful.

[toruro]

Who in svt do you think would like it the most when partner dresses up in the bedroom? Be it lingerie or other things (Also could i be 💚 anon?)

svt most to least — their s/o wearing lingerie

a/n: ofc u can be 💚 anon c: also i know you asked for a who in svt but i'm stupid and read it wrong and ended up writing a mtl so i'm sorry if that isn't want u wanted :c nevertheless, i hope u enjoy!

joshua

he would love it like literally LOVE IT. i can imagine sometimes he wants to fuck you while you're still wearing lingerie, just pulling them to the side and loving the way the cloth slowly grows wet from your juices staining them as he fucks into you. he's also first place because out of all the boys, i think he would just appreciate you wearing lingerie the most. as in, even he doesn't fuck you when you're wearing it, he'd take his time unraveling, placing kisses along the band of your bra, trailing his fingers over them, just being so meticulous and appreciative of you doing this for him!

seungcheol

he is both a boob man and an ass man and he is obsessed with the way your lingerie hugs your tits and accentuates the curve of your ass perfectly. the only reason he isn't first place is because at some point he would be so turned on by it, he'd just rip your panties off, so desperate to just stick it in.

jun

BOOB MAN BOOB MAN BOOB MAN. loves boobs and the way a pretty, lacey bra just highlights how perfect yours are, and it gives him an excuse to spend even more time just lustfully staring at them. plays with your nipples through the fabric because he can't bring himself to take it off, even when he fucks you.

seungkwan

he would specifically love baby pink or white lingerie with bows (???) i think he'd find it sososos cute and it'd just make him want to ruin you. he'd make you keep the bra on while fucking you relentlessy, his eyes flickering back and forth between your whining face and the bows over the lace and he would just lose control!!!

mingyu

are u kidding me he would fucking love it BUT the reason he isn't higher is because i feel like he would want to save you wearing lingerie for special occasions, like his birthday or christmas or something. still, whenever you do dress up for him, it makes his heart swell with happiness and pride that you're willing to do this for him, and makes sure to treat you extra well.

jihoon

now it's not usually his thing, but i can imagine a scenario where he's working late at night and to tease him you put on a lace matching set and he would be so into the idea of punishing you for it, having you get yourself off on his thigh through your panties. he wouldn't let you take the lingerie for the rest of the night and fuck you by just pushing your panties to the side. he likes to say it's his way of punishing you for being needy but he secretly thinks you look sososo hot

chan

i think chan would love lingerie, specifically like deep red. he would have literally a bunch of pictures of you wearing some on his phone for those nights when he can't be next to you, but in person, he'd rather have you bare for him just so he can like grab your tits whenever he wants

dokyeom

i feel like he'd like it more than you expect him too...he just feels it makes you look so pretty and makes his heart (and dick) pound

vernon

i think he would be pretty indifferent to it—he thinks you look hot no matter what lmfaoo

minhgao

he thinks it's super hot but also i think he is a bit more traditional when it comes to sex so he would rather have you naked when fucking you

wonwoo

he'd think you look so sexy in lingerie but he wants sex to be super super intimate and to him that means having you be completely naked. definitely would love some pictures of you in lingerie on his phone though

soonyoung

he just loves your naked body too much. he would have you walk around the house clothe-less if he could, and while he does think lingerie is hot, he just wants to see all of you. the only exception is you wearing like tiger print panties (jk......maybe.....)

jeonghan

honestly i think jeonghan just loves your bare body—not that the other boys don't—but he just finds sex the best when you're both stripped completely, like wonwoo, because that's what he finds most intimate and doesn't want any bit of clothing in the way of that, even if it's lingerie.

[weaselle]

i am convinced that human evolution and development was centered around the basic up-grade from "i steal your resources" to "i steal your behaviors and concepts"

We got clever enough and we just started copying absolutely everything we observed just because now we could figure out how to copy concepts and things that other animals were doing

see that squirrel hoarding acorns for the winter? we can do that. okay now how do we make these acorns edible, cause they are poisonous to a number of animals and we don't do great with them either. What if you put them in the fire? or just on hot coals? what if you put them in water on hot coals and boil them? Oh if you soak them in cold water for 24 hours and maybe change the water a couple times you can totally eat them? YOINK storing acorns for winter is our idea now.

or, you ever seen a weaver bird do it's thing? if not i'll give you one guess what they do

or how about the tailor bird that uses spider silk to stitch the edges of a big leaf together to make a nest in

or sometimes they'll stitch a bunch of leaves into a little cup for a nest

like i'm not trying to downplay how clever it is to be the first humans to weave or sew, and indeed, being the first person to weave that anyone knew about probably happened many times throughout human existence but my conceit is that most if not all of those times was a human seeing something in nature that was basically weaving and going "i'ma do that, and get real good at it - i'ma take that concept and really make it mine"

like it wouldn't surprise me if humans got dogs because we saw how ravens were treating wolves and went "shit yeah, great idea - YOINK that's my idea now."

most of the things that we think of as special human skill or behavior can actually be found elsewhere throughout nature -- all over there are animals using tools, farming, ranching, building, etc.

my favorite primate behavioralist anecdote is a group of people studying tool use in chimps were spending their days in the bush logging the use of twigs to catch termites, and over the campfire at night they're like "it's so boring i wish they'd do something more impressive than this completely basic tool skill."

and one of them was like "actually... how do we know its not a difficult skill? has anyone tried to use a twig to catch termites and see?" and so the next day, like good little scientists, they went out and recorded their attempts at catching termites with twigs.

And lo and behold out of the whole group and all their attempts that day, only, like, a single termite was caught by a human, mostly by chance. Suddenly the whole situation flipped - they'd been thinking of it as basic unskilled tool use, but actually the chimps knew how to do something that none of them could easily figure out on their own - or even together as a group!

y'all, they had to go back to watching the chimps do it to figure out how. Think about that. University degrees, scientific minds, educated people... and they had to be taught how by the chimps.

It turns out there's a reason that young chimps will spend like a year closely studying how an adult is fishing for termites. You gotta select the right kind of twig or leaf stem, maybe you fray the end like a paint brush depending on particulars, you gotta have just the right poking and little shaking technique to provoke the termites into biting the twig, it's a whole thing. There's even regional/cultural differences in the general approach to termite fishing that are distinct between groups that live in different areas.

Now, wild chimps have been observed using objects as tools to fashion crude spears for hunting (it's the mothers doing it by the way, and slowly some of their kids have been growing up doing it, which will probably result in refinements and developments eventually.

ants do both farming and ranching. For real. Some species of ant grow a fungus they eat AND it's a domesticated fungus, like our corn, it can't actually reproduce and survive in the wild without the ants farming it. They maintain its growing conditions and feed it leaf litter mulch, and the fungus produces some kind of ant food idk i forget the details about that. But that's farming. They are farming a domesticated mushroom, basically. And other species of ant will maintain a herd of aphids; they'll move them from grazing area to grazing area, and protect them from predators, and they "milk" them for a liquid food substance and also every now and then they straight up eat one. That's ranching.

beavers sometimes have muskrat... tenants? pets? The muskrats low key pay rent by changing out the reed bedding they all use, and they live in the beaver's lodge with them and eat some of the food. So. idk

Some Tarantulas keep frogs as pets

anyway my point is, i think the true human skill that sets us apart is our ability deconstruct and reconstruct anything we see into something that is for us. Oh, you eat that? Now WE eat that. You have the perfect teeth to drill little holes in specific tree trunks to let the sap ooze out and eat it because it's high in sugar? We don't have those teeth but we're gonna do that now and if we can't figure out a tool that's as good as your teeth at it, watch out, because we will absolutely just also steal your fuckin teeth.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Grumpy Cregan With a Sunshine You

It's certainly an odd experience. You are a delightful person, but he finds that your optimism can be…trying. You constantly want to spend time together and make small talk when all he wants to do is focus on his work. In the end, he's learned to accept and even appreciate your bubbly personality. After all, your sunny disposition is a perfect complement to his more serious nature. And who knows - maybe you'll rub off on him a bit too.

Well, it's like the sun shining on you while you're standing on a mountaintop surrounded by a bunch of clouds. The clouds are constantly moving and trying to block out the sun making it hard to breathe and see, but whenever the sun breaks through, it warms your heart and lifts your spirits. It also has its advantages since the clouds keep the sun from getting too hot or direct for long periods of time. And the sun gets to see the clouds from new angles and feel the fresh breezes coming off of them, so overall it's a good combination.

You know how they say opposites attract? Well, it's true. Having a partner who always sees the glass as half full can bring a welcome ray of sunshine on even the darkest of days. But, sometimes, he worries that his gruff manner might bring you down. You always reassure him that it doesn't and that you love him just the way he is, but he can't help but think you may be trying to spare his feelings. Sometimes he feels like a grumpy old man surrounded by a world full of playful children who don't understand.

It's not that easy on him. On the one hand, he always has to have a dark, brooding attitude for everyone to see…but on the other hand, he finds himself giggling at random, silly things you'll say. That's the danger of dating someone so optimistic and upbeat. You might find yourself becoming a bit sunnier yourself. In short, dating someone so sunny and sweet isn't an easy task, but it has its moments of joy and warmth.

It's like a constant battle of wills. He will get more stern, which will make you even louder and goofier. He will become more stoic, and you'll become even more exuberant to fill the silence. He will roll his eyes silently at one of your jokes, and you will just give him an even wider grin out of sheer delight. He will sigh after one of your corny antics, and you will respond with an even louder laugh and an over-the-top display of affection.

He loves to see how you look at the world. When you see something, you'll point out how beautiful it is or you'll find something special in it, and it makes him look at things in a different way. It makes him appreciate things more. The world is a better place when you can see the beauty in the small things. It is also sometimes good to have someone to balance you out. It is nice to have someone who can bring light to your darkness and to bring joy to your days.

It is both a blessing and a curse at times. For someone like himself, one who tends to be more reserved emotionally to be paired with a ray of sunshine such as his partner can be both comforting and infuriating at times. He is not one who enjoys opening up and baring his soul to anyone, yet he knows he must do that when it comes to the one he loves. But at the same time, to be paired with someone who is so filled with love joy and happiness can be overwhelming and taxing at times as well.

Honestly, it can get a bit frustrating. You are very energetic and are always up for something while he is more reserved. But you are not one to let him get away with being a grump for long, which he thinks is why you both work together. You are the perfect complement to his grouchiness.

Well, there are days when he feels like he's a burden to you since he's so doom and gloom all the time. And there have been times when he's wanted to just break down and cry about things that are bothering him. You always manage to cheer him up and bring a smile back to his face with your sunny disposition and optimism. He'll admit, that dating a ray of sunshine is a challenge, but it's also an adventure, and he wouldn't have it any other way. The ups and downs make it worthwhile.

It is hard to put into words the emotions that come with being in such a relationship. Sometimes the joys and love that he feels when he is with you are immense. You seem to wash away all the darkness and misery and allow him to feel like he is whole again. But at other times, this very same person can seem to overwhelm him with your constant optimism and joy and it seems as though he is fighting against you, even if he has no intention of doing so. There is an emotional rollercoaster that comes with such a relationship as he is not used to being loved in such a strong way.

He also appreciates your patience and understanding when it comes to his mood swings. Even though he can be quite moody and hard to deal with at times, you don't take his tantrums personally. You understand that this is just how he is, and you accept him for who he is. Of course, you do still get annoyed sometimes when he acts like a complete grump. But the fact that you are willing to put up with his grouchiness and still love him all the same is one of the things he adores most about you.

He is not one for overly romantic displays of affection. He does not enjoy things such as holding hands or whispering sweet nothings in someone's ears. His preferred form of affection is through simple acts such as providing for you and doing things for you such as cooking, cleaning, or organizing. He also enjoys spending quality time with you, whether that is going hunting together or simply sitting down for a good meal and some drinks. He has also found that simply having a partner who is always there to listen and provide moral support is a type of affection that he truly appreciates.

One of his favorite kinks is being used as a prop for the fantasies of you. For example, allowing you to use him to experiment or to live out certain scenarios you may have. He enjoys being your canvas or your outlet to explore your desires, whatever they may be. That type of trust and willingness to submit and surrender is a huge turn-on for him.

He also enjoys being a bit of a voyeur. Being able to just watch you is such a treat and being able to watch you take pleasure in your own body while he watches only brings him more joy.

He always has been a fan of some more hardcore forms of play, such as bondage and domination/submission. He enjoys the power struggle between you and himself and the trust that he gives you when he submits to you completely.

He also enjoys the feeling of vulnerability that comes with this kink. Being entirely at the mercy of you and submitting to your wants and needs, he finds it to be quite exhilarating and arousing. When he can let his guard down and allow someone else to have complete control over him, there is a certain thrill that he feels and he finds that to be quite enjoyable.

He loves to feel wanted and needed by you. He enjoys being at your command and being ordered to do the things you crave. It makes him feel wanted and loved and desired. He also loves to surprise you with things that you did not expect. When he takes the initiative and does something unexpected for you, he wants it to make you feel special and cherished and that is what is most important as far as he is concerned.

[1d1195]

Physics V

By popular opinion, we have another installment of our college friends studying together. Please read the rest here: Physics, or if you don't feel like it, I left them just about to have hot chocolate and watch a movie.

You know me, this a bit of a mess and all over the place. I hope you like it anyway. It's been another tough week and honestly I don't see the following weeks getting much better. This was pretty therapeutic for me and I think it's cute even if it's a lot. Sorry for venting and ranting. Thank you for reading.

All fluff

4.4k words

Studying, physics, decorating, coffee, and hot chocolate... she was confident in these areas of her life. Confident that she knew what she was talking about. Harry, boys, and flirting...she wasn’t the least bit confident.

Her heart was thudding so loudly in her chest she could hardly hear the movie. She was a bit worried that Harry could hear how embarrassingly loud her heart was beating beside him. What movie did she even pick? Did she even pick it? If Harry picked it, she was going to have to excuse herself to use the bathroom and Google the plot so as not to embarrass herself further because she hadn’t a clue what had happened in the last half hour.

The middle cushion left a sizable distance between them, and all Harry could think about was how much he wanted to pull her across the desert of space between them, lay her across the length of the sofa, and kiss her until he forgot why he was even there. Harry watched the movie intently so he wouldn’t stare at her the whole time. He reached for the hot chocolate on the coffee table just so he would have something to do (and so he could get a longer glimpse of her pretty being at the other end of the couch).

He smiled softly. “Have y’seen this one?” He asked.

She shook her head. If she had, it wasn’t like she remembered it anyway. Not with Harry’s aura invading all her thoughts and making her forget her own name. “No...”

“Me either.” She was intently focused on her TV screen which gave Harry just a moment to gaze at her without being suspicious. The hot chocolate tasted extra good. Part of him thought it was merely because she was the one who made it. “Secret recipe?” He asked, putting the mug back on the coffee table.

A small smile played at her lips and Harry truly thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his whole life. “Uh...just add a hint of cinnamon.”

“S’really good.”

“I love hot chocolate,” she explained. “Have you ever seen those hot chocolate bars?” She asked. “Like on TikTok or Pinterest? Er...You probably don’t have Pinterest,” she backtracked. “Anyway...” she felt herself rambling and Harry was looking at her like she wasn’t. Like what she was saying was interesting and she wasn’t talking about something so silly.

“I haven’t, kitten,” his voice was so gentle. “Show me,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “No...s’nothing special. It’s just a bunch of little jars and things and you put it on the counter or a little bar cart or something...I don’t know. I think they’re cute.”

“They sound cute,” he said encouragingly hoping she would change her mind. She wouldn’t budge though.

“Um...maybe another time. I don’t want to interrupt the movie.” Harry nodded. His phone continued to vibrate on the coffee table beside his hot chocolate. He flipped it over, so the screen was faced down. “Are you sure you’re not needed elsewhere? I know we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, I wouldn’t want to take you away from your friends or whatever. I’m sure they have way better plans than a Christmas movie a month earlier than should be watched.”

Harry smirked to himself shaking his head, keeping his eyes on the movie. “No, love,” he said simply. “M’fine here, s’long as y’don’t mind m’company,” he didn’t look at her because he didn’t want to make her feel awkward; just in case she did want him to leave.

“I just know that I’m a little boring and I know you’re usually at parties and—”

“How do y’know that?” He smirked. He reached for the remote between their hot chocolate mugs and paused the movie before turning to look at her again.

Harry could see right through her, she was sure. Studying, physics, decorating, coffee, and hot chocolate... she was confident in these areas of her life. Confident that she knew what she was talking about. Harry, boys, and flirting...she wasn’t the least bit confident. Harry was this beautiful, perfect guy that every single girl on campus couldn’t stop talking about whenever he passed by. In the library she heard hushed whispers of Harry at parties with his friends. On a jog around campus, she heard girls swooning about him and how he was really good at beer pong. For Halloween he and his friends dressed up as firefighters and it was literally all anyone could talk about.

She blushed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just hear things.”

He smiled, tilted his head at her in appreciation. “M’rather enjoying this evening,” he said softly. “S’nice t’relax and hang out with you.”

It felt way too good to be true.

Eventually their attention turned back to the movie. Then a second movie. Now it was nearing ten PM, and her eyes were burning a bit from the screen. Harry had gone to the bathroom while she cleaned up the hot chocolate mugs. She yawned, flopping back into her seat on the couch and Harry returned falling into his own spot. It felt odd he had his own spot already. She believed it was his and she thought maybe when he left, she would sit in it, just to soak up the heavenly scent of his cologne.

“D’you want t’watch another?” He asked.

She wanted to sleep but there was no way she was going to tell Harry to leave willingly. He would have to go on his own. She nodded. “Sure,” she said. “Can I get you anything?” She asked.

He shook his head. “M’fine, kitten,” he smiled sweetly.

But it was the third movie that did them in. Both fell asleep before even halfway through it. Her TV was set on a timer, so it turned off at one in the morning if it was on. But when Harry woke up in the dark room (except for the beautiful tree illuminating a gentle glow over her apartment) and looked at his phone, he saw it was almost two thirty in the morning.

Blinking against the brightness of his screen he turned his attention to the pretty girl snuggled in the corner of her sofa. He pulled one blanket off the back of the seat and rested it over her. He watched her sigh with relief as she nuzzled deeper into the back cushion. Harry didn’t want to leave her. Especially not alone on the couch. The lights from the tree created a golden effect and cast over her. Harry thought she was beautiful anyway, but this made him want to kneel before her and stare at her until his eyes fell out of his head.

But he didn’t want the tree to catch on fire either. He quietly unplugged it, making her apartment completely dark, and he fell back into the other end of her couch. Pulling another blanket around himself, he fell asleep almost immediately, that stretch of a couch cushion desert still aching him to the bone as it mocked him from between them.

*

“Shut. Up,” she hissed.

“You’re making Harry Styles pancakes, you’re so fucking stupid,” another voice whispered. “He fell asleep on our couch. Do you know how many girls would kill to be you?”

Harry could smell something sweet and assumed it had to be pancakes based on the conversation he heard so far. He smirked to himself. The sofa was warm and comfy. He wished she hadn’t left because he would have loved to see her expression when he woke up. The apartment was warm, and it felt like Christmas. Or maybe it was just because she seemed to be the embodiment of all good things like Christmas and it made him warm that way.

“Can you be quiet? You’re going to wake him,” she whispered. It was early. Harry hadn’t a chance to look at his phone yet but it was cold and felt like the sun had hardly risen.

“Babe,” the other girl sounded exhausted. “You have Harry Styles on your couch right now. He stayed in on a Friday night to decorate, watch Christmas movies, and drink hot chocolate with you. It’s a date.”

Harry’s heart was fluttering against his ribs. It felt so childish and silly, but he liked it. “I’m just tutoring him.”

“In what? Falling in love? Pancakes will seal the deal. I fell in love with you the first time you made pancakes. Pretty sure Mitch would leave me for your pancakes, and I can’t say I blame him.”

“They’re not even that special.”

“Oh my God.”

Harry needed to make some kind of indication that he was awake, but he didn’t know how. Fortunately, there was a knock on the door. Harry took that as his cue and yawned in exaggeration as he headed to the door. He rubbed his hand into his eye.

He could sense two pairs of eyes on his back as he headed to the door. “I told you she wouldn’t kill him,” Niall said as the door was pulled out of the way. “Louis was worried,” Niall said stepping around Harry.

“Please, come in,” Harry grumbled. Louis marched right past Harry and the poor girl looked so stunned he thought she might cry.

“It smells so good in here,” Louis remarked. “Hey love,” he waved to the sweet girl who looked utterly confused and nervous in the kitchen doorway.

“Uh...hi,” she said softly waving awkwardly back.

Niall dropped a bag on the sofa. “Louis was worried you may have killed Harry. Not that we’d blame you, darling. Can’t imagine having to tutor this sorry sap,” he explained.

Harry rolled his eyes and peeked in the bag to find an array of clothing and toiletries. He was a little grateful that Niall and Louis knew he would need it at the very least. Even if it was a bit forward. Harry finally took notice of how adorable she looked once more. She had changed her clothes. She wore cozy leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. All he wanted was to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until the end of time. “Sorry for just barging over, love,” Louis said. “But we just wanted to rescue you if Harry was bothering you...plus if you did kill him that would make our life a bit harder since his name is on the lease. Not that we’d blame you, of course. I love your Christmas decorations. It’s so nice and cozy in here.”

“I’m Sarah,” the other girl offered; trying to help the poor thing. She looked so rattled Harry wanted to scoop her into his arms and protect her from his friends and their annoying, silly, banter.

“D-do you all want pancakes?” She asked.

“Oh, is that what smells so good? Yes, please, darling,” Niall said excitedly and dropped onto the couch like he had been here a thousand times. But that was her spot and Harry didn’t like Niall sitting there. Where were the two of them going to sit?

“May as well call Mitch and get him over here,” Sarah smiled with unadulterated enjoyment in her eyes as she pressed her phone to her ear.

“Okay...um...I’ll be right back,” she said hurrying back to the kitchen.

Harry glared at his friends. “You’re both insane,” he grumbled and followed her and the scent of pancakes. She was dropping batter into the middle of a griddle spread across two of the stovetop elements. He couldn’t deny his friends were right. It smelled heavenly in the kitchen. “M’sorry, kitten,” he said quickly.

“What for? It’s nice your friends came looking for you,” she smiled. “Pancakes are easy for a crowd too,” she promised.

He sighed. She was a literal delight, and he didn’t deserve that. “I can have us all leave. I’ve obviously overstayed m’welcome. And s’rude of them t’invite themselves over,” he explained. “Does it bother Sarah?”

She shook her head. “It’s really no trouble at all. Sarah doesn’t mind in the slightest. She was just coming to check on me and things. She was...surprised to see you,” she shrugged.

“Love, I told you you’re supposed to text me if you’re making pancakes!” A new voice shouted from the other room. Sarah walked by her and Harry, rolling her eyes at the sound of her boyfriend.

“These pancakes must be something,” Harry grinned sweetly.

“I guess, I just put vanilla extract in them. And sometimes I add syrup to the batter,” she shrugged. “It’s not really a secret,” but Harry thought that maybe, much like her hot chocolate, it simply tasted better because she made it and did it with so much affection for her friends and essentially strangers.

“Well thank you, kitten,” he said kindly.

She nodded. “I...I have to go to the bookstore from nine to two. You can stay here until then if you’d like. Sarah can give you a key or something if she and Mitch leave.”

Harry was a little take aback that she really was going to just leave Harry and his friends alone in her pretty Christmassy apartment. He bit the inside of his lip. “Yeah?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged.

“I jus’ have t’run a few errands...but I bet I’ll beat y’back here,” he told her watching her movements so effortlessly in front of the stove. The entire time she was flipping pancakes and cutting up fruit to go with it. She grabbed plates, whipped cream, and syrup. “Well, maybe we’ll never leave,” he smiled softly.

Biting the inside of her lip she smiled to herself. Because honestly, that didn’t sound so bad. “You’re welcome to shower if you want. Just have Sarah turn on the water for you. The lever is a little tricky when you first use it.”

*

Harry was sad to find she had left while he was in the shower. So maybe it wasn’t as early as he thought it was—he still hadn’t looked at his phone. Everyone was silent as they stuffed their faces with fruit and pancakes. Niall kept making obscene moaning noises.

“If you don’t ask her out, I will,” he groaned.

Harry glared at him. Sarah and Mitch smirked knowingly at one another as they ate silently. “Harry has been over the moon about his new tutor,” Louis told Sarah. It felt like Louis and Niall were talking about their son to his potential girlfriend’s parents. It was so embarrassing. “He has hope he’ll pass now. He couldn’t stop talking about her.”

“Thank you,” Harry grumbled around the fluffiest, yummiest pancake he had ever eaten. It was even difficult to feign his annoyance at his friends.

Sarah smiled with that same unadulterated pleasure she had before. “She’s really excited too,” she promised.

“She’s pretty busy,” Niall remarked.

Mitch nodded. “She likes to be busy,” he shrugged.

Harry kept a silent note of that in his mind. “Louis, Niall, will you do the dishes?” Harry asked.

“Aw, Dad, do we have to?” Louis whined.

He rolled his eyes. “Spotless, when I get back.”

*

She was refolding T-shirts and putting away sweatshirts back on the right racks when the ping of the bookstore door signaled that someone was entering. She glanced at her watch to see that it was almost fifteen minutes before close. She knew she should have put the closed sign up and the metal grate down before she started on the returns. All she wanted to do was go back to her apartment and hope that Harry really was still there.

“Hey beautiful,” his perfect, honey-warmed voice called. She dropped the textbook she was bringing back to it’s spot. Narrowly avoiding her foot with it’s heavy weight.

“Oh,” she blinked. “Hi Harry.”

“Hi, kitten. Sorry t’scare you... Thought y’might want a ride back since s’cold out,” he smiled spinning his ring of keys around his index finger. She blinked.

“Oh, thank you. You didn’t have to go out of your way...or mess up your plans,” she blushed bending to grab the textbook.

He shook his head. “No way, love. Jus’ wanted t’make sure y’weren’t cold. No plans except t’study with you,” he smiled. “Those pancakes were amazing. M’sorry I missed y’leaving.”

She was so stunned by him appearing out of nowhere and once more just being so...nice. She felt her insides turning into mush and her brain was glitching out. How was she supposed to continue tutoring him when he was so utterly breathtaking? Just his kind nature made her speechless.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I didn’t get to—”

“Niall and Louis cleaned up for you, too.”

“They didn’t need to—”

“Of course, they did, kitten. Y’fed them. S’the least they could do actually.”

She was worried if she spoke again he would interrupt her and she was officially out of things to say. “Um...” she slid the book back onto the shelf with the ones that looked just like it. “I just have to...do a few more things until close.”

“I’ll be here,” he said wandering the aisles looking at things. “Won’t touch anything either,” he promised with a wink. “Can’t remember the last time I was in here,” he murmured.

She bit the inside of her lip and as he meandered and headed to the gate to close, finally.  As she pulled the gate down, there was a group of girls who caught sight of the brown curls that were looking at the array of clothing for parents. “Hey kitten?” He called. The group turned to the sound of his voice. One practically gasped. Another gaped openly as they realized Harry was talking to her.

“Yeah?” She called back sounding so unsure.

“D’you think m’mum would actually like this?” He asked holding up a long sleeve shirt with the college’s name, logo, and “Mom” written on the front. “Like would y’get this for your mum?” He asked.

She could feel their gazes on her and she knew they were thinking that it was insane that Harry was talking to her. “Um...I would probably just get her a regular item. I think the mom ones are a little...on the nose?” She explained.

He smiled. “Got it,” Harry carefully folded the shirt and placed it back just as he found it.

“Hey Harry!” One girl called from the gate. “Missed you at the party last night!”

Harry winked at her as he walked toward the gate. She didn’t pay any mind to their conversation, knowing they were taking turns staring at her while Harry stood caged in from them.

After she finished all the closing tasks she grabbed her purse and put it across her body before she slowly walked toward Harry touching up the displays as she went to escape them. “Are you going out tonight?”

“Probably not,” he shrugged. “M’really focusing on m’physics class,” he explained. “I need all the help I can get...right, kitten?”

Part of her felt stupid for answering to the little pet name as if it were her own. But she couldn’t help but turn to the sound of his voice calling her the name and then meeting ten pairs of eyes—eight of which were glaring at her. Two of which were so green and so gentle.

“You’re not so bad,” she murmured.

“Sorry ladies,” he shrugged. “Maybe next weekend. Ready, love?” He asked turning his back to the group who continued to stare at him and glare at her.

Was she ready to get out of there? Yes. Very much so.

*

Harry let her walk in first and closed the door behind him. She kicked her shoes off and headed to the kitchen. She needed a glass of water before they started studying. Sarah already texted her to let her know that someone told someone told someone that Harry wasn’t going out in favor of studying with some girl.

When he asked her if she could tutor, the entire dining hall stared at her as if they had never seen her before—like she appeared from thin air the moment Harry talked to her. Now they heard Harry call her sweet names and ditch his party habits all because he had to study. On a Saturday.

Harry stood in the middle of the sitting room waiting for her reaction—whatever it would be. She returned silently—sans water. Her eyes were huge. Harry smiled kindly.

“Everything alright, kitten?” He asked.

“You...” she stared at him. “You... made me a hot chocolate bar?”

Harry shrugged. “S’least I can do,” he looked a little surprised. He didn’t understand her confusion. This seemed only natural that he would do this. It seemed obvious to him that he was...infatuated with her so readily, easily. How could he be anything but? She was intelligent, beautiful, and utterly kind. The embodiment of happiness and holidays.

She returned to the kitchen to look at the tray set up on the counter. There were mason jars of varying sizes. Displayed perfectly. Marshmallows, chocolate chips, candy canes, little wooden scoops, cookies, sprinkles. It looked like Harry had raided the entire display of Christmas goodies at Target.

The anxiety she felt from Harry being so nice was overwhelming. “Y-you didn’t have to do that,” there was a lump in her throat. It was just so nice she could feel tears threatening, aching in the back of her eyes.

“Kitten?” He asked gently.

She didn’t want to look at him. She wanted to stare at the kind gesture he had so thoughtfully made while she was at work. Seeing the dishes were done from breakfast too...by his friends. Everything about Harry was unlike any guy she had ever met.

But...he was so...him. He was nothing like her. He was confident, gorgeous, funny, and sweet. He probably dated girls that could drink her under the table. Or wouldn’t mind kissing him in front of an entire party. Who could blame them really? Harry had lips that deserved to be kissed every moment of the day. He looked like he should be kissed in front of audiences simply because he was too beautiful not to be. She was certain the group of girls outside the bookstore would kiss him without a care in the world.

He would never, ever want to kiss or be around someone that had her nose stuck in a physics book and could hardly talk to a guy without rambling or feeling awkward.

“Thank you,” she murmured politely. The words came out breathlessly because if she added any volume she would have resorted to tears and Harry would someone comfort her and make her feel even worse than she already did about the whole predicament.

“Are y’alright, love?” He asked, concern dripped in his voice. He reached out like he was going to touch her back but stopped before his hand got to her.

She nodded silently, unable to look away from the little ribbons tied like perfectly wrapped presents around the mason jars. “Uh...yeah. Do you want to study?” She cleared her throat.

He frowned. “Um...sure.”

She felt like she lost some game that she didn’t even know she was playing.

Harry watched her leaving the kitchen and felt so lost. Was it not obvious that he adored her? The hot chocolate bar was hardly anything in comparison to what she deserved. Right as she crossed the threshold, he grabbed her hand and tugged her back toward him. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked.

She shook her head, not looking up at his eyes. “No! Of course not, Harry.”

“Y’seem...sad...I made a chocolate bar for you,” he pouted.

Sighing, she tried not to think about the electric feeling of Harry’s hand in hers. It made her nervous that her hand was starting to sweat immediately. He hadn’t done anything. He skimmed his thumb along the back of it. “It’s...” she swallowed thickly avoiding his gaze. “It’s so nice, Harry,” she whispered.

“Then why—”

“I just...don’t want to fall for you,” she explained.

He dropped her hand like it hurt her. She ached to hold his hand again. It was so unfair. “Oh.”

The silence was deafening. “I understand if you don’t want me to tutor you,” she bit the inside of her lip.

“Kitten, you’re literally m’only hope,” he reminded her. “If y’don’t want to, though...s’fine. I’ll figure it out. M’not your responsibility. I can always go on YouTube—”

She shook her head. “No,” she swallowed. “That’s not what I want,” she promised. “Really—”

“Love,” he brought a hand to her face and brushed his thumb across her lips. Her sentence was no longer in her mind. Everything was gone. She only knew Harry’s name, the color green, and that his thumb was touching her lips.

“You’re way too cool and hot and confident for me,” she whispered. All he had to do was look at her. It was like a magic spell. The words fell out of her. His cologne was surely a potion. Throwing all coherent thought out of her mind. She wasn’t an upperclassmen physics student. She was a dumb girl infatuated with a guy that was way too good for her.

“Oh, kitten,” he frowned. “I...” his unfairly tanned cheeks turned the most beautiful, rosy pink. Like someone put makeup on him. “You’re...you’re much too hard on yourself. You’re way too good for me. Gorgeous, intelligent, kind...” he shook his head. “You’re the whole package, love.” Her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest. Of course, his cologne was sending her into a fog of confusion and only thoughts of Harry. “Kitten,” he cooed. “M’not saying this jus’ because I desperately want...no need you t’fall for me...but if y’like someone...”

“Harry, those girls are the ones you deserve—” her voice cracked with the idea that Harry needed her for anything.

“M’so out of your league,” he chuckled. “Maybe y’shouldn’t fall for me,” he winked. “But...isn’t... there a basic Law of Attraction in Physics?” He asked.

“Harry, that’s from like week one of Physics I.”

“Kitten, m’trying t’flirt on your level. Will you...?” Her lips felt glued shut. “Any particular force that draw two objects together?” She nodded mutely. “Think we have a particular force here,” he caught one of his fingers through her front belt loop and pulled her toward him. Her whole body was on fire. There was a clean sink behind her. A hot chocolate bar on her counter.

And Harry was enacting a force of attraction on her that she never would have dreamed of as he tilted his head and locked his gaze on her lips.

--

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[moonxmagix]

Cubicles

Pairing: Gerard Way x Fem Reader secretary

CW: power imbalance, use of daddy, brat, spanking, fingering, choking, p in v, slight degradation, drinking, drunk while p in v, semi public ?, face fucking, hair pulling, soft ending, 18+

Summary: You are Gerards secretary and y'all do some nasty stuff in his office and at his home.

It had been my one year anniversary at my new job. I was the CEO’s secretary and was always told how I did an excellent job. I was an overachiever you’d say, I’d take over jobs before my boss told me to, and spend all  nighters on work. I was one of the very few women in the office but I didn’t mind, it usually meant I got more expensive gifts! But my pay for the work I did was not satisfactory. 

I love my job and wouldn’t trade it for the world. My boss Mr. Way was an excellent business man with the best of manners. But, he was a flirt, a tease, you’d say. Your attraction to him never went beyond a steamy makeout session in his office and some hands between your thighs. If you saw him  outside of the law firm you’d never think he was some top boss to a bunch of  lawyers that represented mob members. I will admit it was scary at times having grown men yell at you and not being able to yell back. 

Being from New Jersey the one thing that got me in trouble the most was my mouth. Mr. Way loved it though, it tested his control. His closest friends and top employees were big flirts too, but I didn’t want them as much as I wanted him. 

I walked into the law firm and greeted people as I passed. I had a small office of my own but it wasn’t nearly as spacious as Mr. Way’s. I made special cookie brownies for my one year anniversary here and couldn’t wait to share them. I put all my heavy things away and first went to go get coffee for myself and a couple others. As I stood at the coffee machine I felt a hand smack my ass. I turned  to see Mr. Iero standing next to me, I was so used to him being touchy-feely. “I could sue you for that, Mr. Iero,” I said, trying to sound serious. He chuckled, “You’d lose anyway,” he took a sip of the fresh coffee I made. 

I rolled my eyes, “You’d lose anyway,” I mocked him. “Better watch it or I’ll get you in trouble with Gerard,” he raised his brow following behind me. I opened Mr. Way’s office door to not see him there, “Is he here yet?” I asked Frank. He was always early even before me and I made sure to get there at 6:30 am sharp. Keep in mind I live in Jersey and transport by train to NYC. 

“Haven’t seen him, why? You miss your lil boyfriend,” he teased. I placed his coffee on his desk ready for when he does get here. “Not my boyfriend and I brought a special treat for later and I want him to be the first to try,” I said going to make my way to Mr. Toro and Mr. Mikey as we called  him. It’s confusing to have two different Mr. Ways. “Now, leave me to it, yeah?” I smiled ruffling his long hair. 

I could tell I got him hot and bothered by the way he unbuttoned his first two buttons on his shirt. I walked into the office that both Mr. Mikey and Mr. Toro shared. “Hi boys,” I smiled, receiving compliments from both. “Don’t you look amazing,” Mr. Toro said, kissing my hand. “What’re you dressing up for,” Mr. Mikey asked. “It’s officially been one year since I started,” I smiled. “Thank you for the coffee Mrs. Y/N, and congratulations to you,” Ray smiled and I went to go see if Mr. Way was here yet. 

I snuck by his office and peeked in the door window to see him working on his computer and taking sips of his coffee. I hurried to my office and grabbed the cookie brownies I made. I checked my makeup one last time and freshened up my dark red lipstick. 

My heels echoed in the halls as I nervously approached his door, I knocked before opening right away. Gerard met me at the door and saw my hands full of brownies and papers. “Whatcha got here?” he said excited and curious. He took the papers from me and placed several kisses on my cheek and jaw. Smothering me. 

I blushed and laid the brownies on his desk, a cigarette from his ash tray filling the air with smoke. He stood in front of me, staring at me up and down. “I made brownies and wanted you to be first to try them,” I said, scooting closer to him, our faces inches apart as I put my arms around his waist. “Aren’t you sweet,” he smiled, grabbing my chin and kissing me gently trying not to get my lipstick on him. I gave him a piece and I heard him moan in joy, “They’re delicious but not as sweet as you,” he said, rubbing our noses together cutely. 

But there was more that I wanted to talk about with him, getting a raise. Which I knew wasn’t going to be easy. Gerard sat on his chair taking a puff of his cigarette, “Could I talk to you about something?” I asked shyly. “Of course you can,” he said, patting his lap motioning me to sit on it. I played with his messy hair and took in his features, it didn’t look like he got much sleep. “So?” he said, pulling me out of my gaze. 

“Y’know it’s my one year anniversary here anddd I wanted to see if I could get a raise,” I was so nervous for his response. He chuckled, “We’ll see about that. You’ll have to earn it though,” he said with a smirk. I swallowed, “Haven’t I done enough Mr. Way? So not fair,” I whined. He grabbed my face and pulled his mouth next to my ear, “You watch that fuckin attitude right now, understand?” he said, placing a kiss on my neck. I nodded, when he got dominant like that it made my heart race and that wasn’t the only thing having a heartbeat. 

I moaned when he kissed my neck, making his demeanor change completely. He told me to get up from his lap and I thought he was going to leave the room but he locked the door and put the blinds down so no one could see inside. He rolled up his sleeves and walked over to me with a dominating hunger in his eyes. “Take your skirt off,” he demanded as he sat in his leather chair. 

I hesitantly took my skirt off, leaving me in a black silk button up and black tights. Shoes left with the skirt. He grabbed me and laid me over his lap, “What’re you doi-,” SMACK. I moaned out in pleasure and pain. “Brats like you don’t get to boss around their daddy like that,” he said, smacking each cheek several times. He rubbed and grabbed my ass with such force, leaving more hard smacks. He told me to get up which I did and he shoved all the papers that were once cluttered up to the side. 

He pushed me against the desk, towering over me. I grabbed his black and white striped tie and pulled his face closer to me, “Is that all you got, sir?” I teased him, knowing that would only make him more rough with me. He pushed me onto the table and ripped a large hole in my tights. “Gerard!” I was upset with him at that moment, I didn’t bring an extra pair with me. “I’d prefer if you didn’t wear these. I want easier access to what’s mine,” he said, getting on his knees and kissing around my thigh and on the small fabric that covered my pussy. 

He slowly moved my panties over, running his finger up and down the wetness. I bit my lip trying to contain the moans. He teased my hole with his fingers, “Beg,” he said, removing his fingers. “Gerard please, give it to me,” I begged him, getting sexually frustrated with him. He inserted two fingers and slowly worked them, my juice leaking out and all over his fingers. His thumb rubbed on my clit which drove me mad. I was a squirming, wet, and hot mess for him. 

“Gerard, I..I’m gonna,” I breathed heavily, gripping his full head of hair. “Cum for me you dirty whore,” he growled, slapping my sensitive cunt. I came all over his fingers and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting me. He unbuckled his pants, throwing the belt onto the floor and ripped his pants off, leaving him in his boxers. You could see how hard he was, he pressed his bulge right against my soaking wet cunt. 

He pressed his lips to mine, our mouths dancing messily together. His lips and face were covered in lipstick, but mine was too. Gerard took out his cock and teasingly rubbed it against my folds. He slapped my cunt with it, “How bad do you want it? How bad do you want your boss's cock huh?” he smirked. “Give it to me, I’ve never wanted something so bad,” I whined, throwing my arms around his neck. “You’re forgetting something sugar,” he said, pulling his cock away from my cunt. 

“Please daddy,” I whispered in his ear, my warm breath sending chills down his arms. He slowly put his cock inside me and I moaned in pain and pleasure as he was thick in size. His pace sped up and his hips slammed into mine. My moans echoed in the room and Gerard  kept a tight grip around my throat. “Take that fucking cock,” he murmured in my ear. “Look at you, taking your boss’s cock like the whore you are. Let everyone know how I’ve claimed you,” he said, staring into my soul. “You don’t own me, you stupid man,” I smirked, fighting back with him. 

“Oh yeah? Everyone on this floor can hear you right now taking my fat cock. If they try anything with you they’re gone,” he said, pinning my arms down and slamming into me. My walls tightened as I came all over his cock, my ears rang and my mouth was dry. “Daddy’s gonna cum, holy shit,” he said, pushing his hair out of his face. Gerard had plans of pulling out but I stopped him by wrapping my legs around him, forcing him to cum inside me. 

“Look at you, what a good girl,” he said, kissing me all over my lipstick covered face. “Do I get that raise?” I said, trying to catch my breath. “We’ll see,” he smiled, putting his clothes back on. I took my tights off and threw them in the bin. We looked at ourselves in the mirror and tried our best to wipe off the lipstick. I laughed at him trying to rub it off with his fingers, smudging it even more. 

“Do you think they’re gonna stare at me?” I whispered standing at the door. He chuckled lightly, “No sweetheart, just hide your face and you should be fine,” he said, staying in his office. I took a deep breath and exited. I used my hand to  hide my face but while shielding myself I accidentally bumped into someone. “What the hell happened to you?” Frank said. “Mind your business,” I said pushing past him into my office. I scoured through my purse for my makeup wipes and started hurriedly wiping it off. KNOCK, “I need to talk, it’s important. I’m too impatient to wait,” Frank came in bothering me. 

I groaned in annoyance, “Do you not have any manners? Holy shit,” I said, throwing my wipe away and taking out my makeup to touch up. “Do YOU have any manners?! Moaning for the entire office to hear,” he mocked my moans. I got fed up and took my heel off and threw it at him. 

~^~^~^~^~^~^

It was about 7pm and I was beyond tired, my office was dimly lit by my computer screen and a lamp in the corner. I sighed frustrated trying to set up meetings and such for Gerard. KNOCK, “Come in!” I yelled not taking my eyes off the screen. “My lil workaholic,” Gerard said, leaning against the desk. I sighed, “I wouldn’t be if these people knew how to communicate,” I was frustrated and ran my fingers through my hair. “Log off for the night! Wanna get drinks with us?” he offered, grabbing my stuff and placing it in front of me. “Who’s us?” I asked. “Frank, Ray, Mikey. Oh and Mikey told me he was scared,” Gerard laughed. “He’ll get over it. But yes, I’d love to,” I said, grabbing my cardigan so I wouldn’t absolutely freeze on this autumn night. 

We all walked out of the building together with me wrapped around Gerard’s arm, the taxi ride to the bar was just the guys teasing us for our little workplace hookup. “You’re just jealous!” I exclaimed, nudging Frank in the ribs. 

We got to the bar and we got placed in a dark private corner, Gerard and I sat together on one side and the three of them on the other. Several drinks were ordered and I quickly got drunk but not belligerent. I was so touchy with Gerard, whispering several compliments in his ear all night. “You smell so good, it’s so intoxicating,” I said, kissing his neck. “I want you,” I whispered in his ear. Gerard grabbed my face with his hand and kissed me, “Wait until we get home,” he said which caught me off guard. 

“Home?” I said, confused. “Mhm, you’re going home with me tonight,” he turned his attention back to the table after his sly comment. While I was still intoxicated by his smell and way with words, I got myself on his lap and rested my head on his chest. “Look at you two, your love makes me sick almost,” Ray said jokingly which made me chuckle. “He doesn’t know that,” I said, shushing him with my finger. I loved Gerard, he was my type to the T. I felt his chest vibrate from nervously chuckling at my drunk confessions. 

~^~^~^~^~^~^

I stood outside with Gerard holding me up and forcing water down my throat. Which I fought of course. “Y/N sweetheart it’s starting to rain, please just drink this while I get a cab,” he said sternly which made me stop and do as he pleases. I love when he bosses me around, I couldn’t imagine myself as anyone else’s secretary. 

He catches a cab for us and takes me to his place, my legs draped over his. He walked me to his high rise apartment and I was in awe at how nicely decorated it was. “Holy shit, this is really your place huh?” I said, starting to undress myself without any care in the world. Left to my bra and underwear. I make my way to his bed and hop into the cold sheets, “Can I finally have you?” I giggle trying to hint at him. 

There he stood at the end of bed, undressing himself in such a hurry to get to me. He crawled to me getting under with me and immediately assumed into the big spoon position. His body was so warm despite looking like a vampire. Wet kisses covered my neck making me giggle, “What’s so funny?” he joked. “It just feels good,” I smile, tiredly. “I’m not done with you yet,” he said, shoving his face into my neck, kissing and sucking. “Gerard,” I moaned. “Everyones gonna see-” he covered my mouth, shushing me. 

His other hand trailed down to my abdomen, his fingers slowly lifting the edge of my panties. His fingers worked themselves around my clit, I wanted more of him. “You’re already so fucking wet for daddy,” he growled into my ear. I palmed his cock through his underwear, feeling the wetness of precum leaking through. I stopped him so I could take his cock out, pulling his underwear off and onto the floor. I spit on his head, lubricating my hand. 

“Suck on it you dirty whore,” he grabbed a fist full of my hair. I whimpered as he shoved my mouth onto his cock. My mouth was small and I couldn’t help but gag on his length. He bucked his hips up, going deeper into my throat. Drool began to fall and pool as he face fucked me, not loosening his grip on my hair. I felt him pulse and do one more push down my throat to release himself. He pulled away with cum all over my lips. “C’mere baby,” he said, pulling me back to his chest. 

He lifted my leg and teased my hole with the tip of his cum and saliva covered cock. Without warning he shoved his cock inside me making me gasp in pleasure. “Yeah? This what you want?” he purred in my ear, pounding. The sound of skin clapping together. 

Somehow we ended up in doggy but my phone rang. I groaned in annoyance and I was going to hit decline but Gerard said, “Who is it?” he questioned. “Frank,” I moaned out as he didn’t stop fucking me. “Answer it,” he demanded. I hit the green call button and put it on the speaker. 

“Hey I just wanted to know if you got home safely,” he asked, seeming about as drunk as I was earlier but tried to hide it. “Y-yeah, I did,” I said, trying to not moan or whimper but it still came off suspicious. “Are you okay Y/N? Do I need to come over?” he said, trying to have an excuse to hook up. “No, it’s fine. FUCK!” I yelled into the pillow as Gerard railed me, cumming all over his cock. “Gerard, please-,”  I said, gripping the sheets. 

“Well I’ll let you two love birds have fun,” he giggled like a schoolgirl. I hung up the phone and Gerard pulled my head back by the throat and pulled me up. He kissed me on the neck and back, burrowing his cock deep inside me. He pulled out and I felt his cum leak out of me. 

Our bodies collapsed together and my eyes fluttered. “You’re so hot, you know that?” he said, stroking my hair. “Say’s you,” I poke his chest. “We should probably get cleaned up before we go to bed sticky and sweaty,” he suggested, rubbing my thighs gently and kissing my temple. I agreed and was able to stand but barely, as my legs were too wobbly and weak. Gerard noticed and came to my side, “Let daddy help you,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist. 

He started the shower and the steam filled the bathroom, we took turns washing each other and it  was everything I could’ve wanted. It was bliss, to have someone care for me, love me, hold me. The thought of past relationships came rushing to my head, I covered my face with my hands. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Gerard asked, pulling my hands from my face. “It’s nothing, really,” I tried sucking up, letting the shower water cleanse my salty face. 

“It’s clearly something, Y/N. No need to hide,” he said sweetly, he was a lot more protective than what I was used to but I loved it. It brought a sense of comfort and safety, not the type of protectiveness that sheltered you from the world. “I’ve just never felt so cared for, so wanted,” I said sniffling. “I’ll always be here for you, you’re my baby,” he said, holding me in his arms, rocking back and forth gently. “Does this make  us…” I said, raising my brows at him. “Partners? Absolutely.” 

[one-green-frog]

Could you maybe do Hobie x ftm!reader who got his period and has really bad cramps/is sick on his period??

I kinda have ideas for this too!! Hobie and reader were cuddled up on the couch in Hobie's canal boat, and they fall asleep. But, at ass o'clock in the morning, Hobie wakes up for whatever reason— but reader is gone. Then Hobie goes to look for him and finds him in the bathroom getting sick :(( Hobie helps him clean up and just comforts him for a while idk anymore?? Probably just a bunch of fluff from there on

P.S this is from the same anon who made the other hobie req:3 (I loved it btw thank youu🫶)

Soooo... I know it's been.. a while but here it is... I kinda hate it but it's been too long again. Been really stressed, i hope i will better myself. But thank you for requesting!!!

Period Pains

Hobie x ftm!reader

It had been a long day for both Y/N and Hobie, being Spiderman wasn't easy and working a stressful 9-5 shift, with some of the rudest customers at some shitty fast food chain also wasn't the greatest thrill in life. But luckily every shitty day comes to an end and that meant the greatest ever cuddle time at Hobie's boat. It was definitely the best time of the day, and the boat added some extra special feeling to it. It was better then coming home to a small apartment that cost way too much with little room the decorate. The small waves hitting the boat, softly swaying it left and right was also a massive bonus, but ultimately the best part was it's owner, who is currently occupied with cuddling his lover on the couch.

A long day always ended like this. No talking, no TV, just them holding each other softly, letting go of all the stress. The swaying of the boat slowly coaxed them down the road of slumber.

It was a peacful night until Hobie's boyfriend-instincts awoke him from the amazing dream he had. Confused, Hobie looked around, hands reaching everywhere to feel for Y/N, until he noticed light in the bathroom, and after fully shaking of his sleep, he also heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing. He quickly made his way to the bathroom, before knocking on the door and slowly entering. Y/N looked up to him, tears in his eyes, hunched over the toilet, shaking from pain caused by, what he only could assume was his period.

Periods were always the worst for Y/N not only because it was a reminder that he was born in the wrong body, but they were also extremely painful, debilitating, so severe that he had to spend most of his time in the bathroom, drowning in pain medication and hot-water bottles.

Thankfully Y/N could count on Hobie to be by his side the entire time, hardly ever leaving his boat, sometimes even neglecting his spider-man duties to make sure his Lover was taken care of. No matter how small of an ask Hobie would be there, be it cooking lunch and delivering it to Y/N in the bathroom or holding him when the cramps were just a bit too much.

Hobie immediately knelt down next to him, rubbing his back in an attempt to comfort him

"You want me to get you something, love?" Hobie asked, voice soft as to not cause a headache too.

Y/N could only shake his head, the pain too immense to even try to talk and his throat hoars from throwing up.

It wasn't uncommon for them to spent hours in the bathroom whenever Y/N's period hit, no, it's quite obvious that both of them wouldn't get to sleep anytime soon, and while Y/N often felt bad for making Hobie stay up and take care of him, his boyfriend was always quick to reassure him that it's not a chore, and he would rather be by his side when he's suffering and try to reduce the pain. After all, Y/N would do the same, he already spends hours upon hours flicking him together after Spider-man had a rough fight

Hobie stayed there right next to his boyfriend and while he could hardly do anything to relive the pain, the comfortinghand on Y/N back did more than enough. Hours passed, by now the sun was up, and luckily the pain subsided, but it left Y/N drained of any energy, even breathing was hard, after all, he just spend the whole night throwing up and crying, not to mention the pain coursing through his body.

Hobie slowly brought his arms around Y/N lifted hin up and slwoly carried him to the couch to finally rest. After laying him down, Hobie gathered the blanket that laid on the floor, before slowly laying down next to his boyfriend and covering both of them with the blanket.

I kinda have been really hating my life for a while, it's just stress with family and school, i don't really have much time for writing rn, but i hope I'll manage

[patheticgirlsteve]

Steve is an excellent gift giver, ask anyone in the Party, and they’ll tell you all about what they got from Steve for their last birthday. They’re not incredible gifts because of how much he spends on them or how fancy they are (they’re usually not very expensive and aren’t very fancy). No, they the best gifts because they’re useful.

Steve is a HUGE believer in giving practical gifts. He only gifts things that he knows his friends are going to use, things that they could probably buy for themselves, but Steve likes to give them to them instead.

For Dustin’s 15th birthday, Steve gets permission Claudia to teach Dustin how to drive. (Claudia says yes of course, because as much as she loves her son, she was not looking forward to being an a car with him at the wheel just yet Possibly ever.)

For Robin’s graduation, he buys her a new set of luggage so that when they go on their Hot Girl Summer Roadtrip that they’ve been planning (and eventually when she needs to move into her dorm) she’ll have a place to pack her stuff.

For Christmas, he buys El a bunch of different colors of glitter glue and film packs for the Polaroid camera Jonathan had bought her for her sracpbooking.

He spends an entire year saving up all of his quarters to give to Mike on his birthday, because he knows that Mike can never find any when they all go the arcade. (Mike can’t even pretend that it’s a bad gift, he wants to, but he can’t.)

It’s not just holidays and special occasions either, if Steve is out and about and he sees something that he knows one of his friends would love he buys it and gives it to them. Just because.

He’s at the sporting goods store getting himself some new running shoes and sees a set of sweat bands in Hawkins High colors and gets them for Lucas.

He notices that there’s a whole in one of Max’s gloves in the middle of December and buys her new pair to slip into her coat pocket when she’s not paying attention.

When he’s helping Joyce cook dinner for the Party one time and he sees her frowning at a old dented frying pan he goes out and gets a her new stainless steel one to see place the old one.

After everything Vecna and Upside Down related has been settled for good and he and Eddie have become tentative friends Eddie learns about this particular habit and skill of Steve’s. But he doesn’t realize at first that it’s Steve who’s giving him gifts.

It starts simple, a new pack of Eddie’s favorite kind of ballpoint pens that he used for everything (song writing, campaigning writing, and occasionally even doing his homework) slipped into his backpack, timed perfectly, as he had just used up his last one.

He doesn’t know how they got there, and tries to recall if he had bought them himself and just forgotten about it, but he doesn’t think he did. He decides not to question it too much though, why look a gift horse in the mouth?

The next thing he finds is a new notebook left in the passenger seat of his van after a hangout with the whole crew, again timed perfectly, he wanted to write a new campaign for Hellfire soon and needed someplace to write out all his plans.

He knows that it’s a gift this time because he sees a sticky note on the cover that’s says, “For Eddie :)”. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting, but he smiles at the wobbly little smiley face his anonymous gift giver has drawn.

The next gift comes in the form of a black velvet scrunchie, stuffed into the pocket of his leather jacket. It must have been put in there at some point when it was hanging up at Steve’s house during their group movie night that weekend. He uses it to keep his hair out of his face and because he thinks it’s cute.

Eddie starts to figure it out not long after that.

He and Steve are hanging out together, just the two of them, not for the first time. Eddie is playing his guitar on his bed while Steve is telling a story on the other side of the bed. They both startle one of Eddie’s guitar strings snaps with a loud twang. Eddie sighs, knowing that he’s gonna have to go get new strings soon now. Steve leaves not long after that with a goofy smile and a wave “good night”.

Two days later when Eddie gets home from Hellfire, he finds a pack of new strings taped his the front door without a note and Wayne has no idea how they got there. But Eddie knows. Who else could it have been but Steve?

And Eddie realizes that maybe all of the little gifts that he’s been given over the past couple of months were all Steve’s doing. Steve Harrington, reformed jock, ex-douchebag, genuinely good guy. Steve Harrington who’s Eddie has been trying gish best not to crush on ever since he had seen Steve wearing Eddie’s vest in the Upside Down.

Operative word there being “trying”, Eddie had been failing miserably and had gone and fallen for the guy against his better judgement. He couldn’t help it! Steve was just so nice and funny and thoughtful and HOT and Eddie was only a man, okay? He had been powerless to resist the Harrington Charm.

He goes to Steve’s parent’s house after he restrings his guitar with Steve’s gift to confront him. He’s not upset about the gifts, he’s just confused. Because why would Steve be paying such close attention to Eddie that he can buy such useful things for him? Why would he spend his money on Eddie at all?

When he opens the door Steve doesn’t look surprised to see Eddie there, but he does look nervous, which gives Eddie pause. Why is Steve nervous??

“You got the strings then, i’m guessing?” Steve asks, stepping aside to let Eddie in.

“Yeah, I got the strings, Steve. They kinda hard to miss, you taped them to the front door,” He teases as Steve closes the door behind them, neither of them moving to step into the living room.

“Well, I didn’t want you to miss them. We’re they the right kind? I wasn’t sure which kind to get so I asked the guy at the music store and he helped me figure it out, but if I got it wrong just eat me know and I’ll go get the right ones,” Steve isn’t looking at Eddie as he rambles.

“Steve,” Eddie cuts him off, feeling brave.

“Yeah?” Steve looks at Eddie now, and he can see the mix of fear, anxiety, and hope shining in Steve’s eyes.

“They were the right kind,” Eddie smiles.

“Oh, good,” Steve exhales. “I’m glad.”

“Steve,” Eddie says again, quietly, trying not to spook Steve who is clearly already nervous. “Have you been giving me gifts this whole time?”

Eddie is delighted to see Steve blush. “Uh, yeah, I have been. I do that a lot, I like giving gifts to the people I care about, I guess.”

“Steve,” Eddie can’t help his smile as he repeats Steve’s name again.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, like Eddie had asked his opinion on something. His eyes are wide, the hope that Eddie noticed in them earlier has grown.

“Stop me if I’m wrong,” and Eddie really must be braver than he thought, because he leans in and kisses Steve.

Steve kisses him back almost immediately, and it’s not rushed or forceful. It’s soft and careful, no urgency to it, and it makes Eddie dizzy with how perfect it is.

And Eddie can’t help but think that this is by far the best gift that Steve’s given him.

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Dreamland II (6x05)

After spending some time with Mulder’s partner, a few things had become glaringly obvious to Morris. For starters, these two had never bumped uglies. They might’ve investigated a lot of weird creatures in their time on the X-Files, but the beast with two backs sure as hell wasn’t one of them. Dana was so tightly wound, he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d never gotten laid — either of them for that matter. The idea that the FBI’s best and brightest were a bunch of pent-up, sexually repressed virgins really shed light on the state of affairs of this country. So much for Bill Clinton’s America.

Initially, he’d wondered if maybe they had some torrid past that they ignored. Maybe they did the deed during their fed training and then got saddled with each other as partners. That was the only thing he could think of that would explain all the touching. God, had this woman ever heard of personal space? It was like every conversation they had required her to be less than six inches from his face at minimum, but heaven forbid you tried to lean in for a kiss. Sheesh.

However, he was confident in saying that nothing had ever happened between them. What a sick joke. Why they hadn’t, Morris would never understand, but it just confirmed his theory that Fox Mulder had a talent for wasting his potential. He also felt confident saying that Special Agent Dana Scully needed to get laid. Pronto.

Poor girl was so uptight, she needed to be shown a good time, and he knew more than a few ways to help her to unwind. Sure, maybe he wasn’t the ‘real’ Fox Mulder she’d always dreamt of jumping in the sack with, but he figured a little benevolent chicanery would be mutually satisfying for both of them. 

Morris thought it would have taken some convincing. He’d been getting the impression that his particular brand of charm wasn’t endearing to her, but based on the way her eyes practically fluttered shut at his dinner invitation, she’d been wanting this for a while.

The plan was in motion, now it was all down to the execution. 

Unfortunately, even from 2,500 miles away, Fox Mulder was still managing to cockblock himself. Morris had been frozen in place ever since opening the door to the bedroom — though to call it that felt like a bastardization of the English language. He’d never seen anything quite like this. It wasn’t like the rest of the apartment was in the running to be on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens by any means, but at least it was hospitable. This just looked like the den of an insane person. 

That thought elicited a frown from Morris. If this man was crazy, did that mean Morris would inherit his neuroses? On a physical level, he’d certainly enjoyed experiencing this new level of intense virility, but he certainly didn’t want to adopt whatever mental defect it is that causes a grown man to hoard copies of PLAYPEN. As if taunting him, another box of magazines fell in the corner of the room.

With a sigh of resignation, Morris set the candles down on a nearby table and grabbed the nearest phone book, flipping his way to the garbage disposal section of the Yellow Pages and ignoring the various pages that were dogeared for adult entertainment stores. He settled on calling one of those companies specializing in the quick removal of large amounts of garbage. If anything in that room was truly important, they wouldn’t be treated like a diorama of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. 

The couch had been so worn-in and comfortable that he’d accidentally fallen asleep there, so he hadn’t had a chance to assess the severity of the issue until now. Thank god whatshername, the hot blonde secretary, had to go early the other day. He cringed trying to think of what he would have done if he’d tried to bring her to the bedroom, only to find all those boxes of worthless junk filling the room. Then again, Fox Mulder was so attractive to the ladies that he’d probably be forgiven for being such a slovenly pig.

Glancing at the clock, Morris took note that he still had a bit of time before Dana would be arriving for their date. Even when everything was removed, the bedroom was still an issue. How was he expected to seduce a woman in a room that smelled like stale air on a mattress that was ruined by the weight of 100 boxes?

He rubbed his hands across his face in frustration, but took some comfort in the fact he was becoming more accustomed to feeling the new ridges and planes of his face as opposed to the ones he’d spent the past 53 years with. That and the absence of a ring on his left hand revitalized his spirits. This was probably for the best. After all, if the tacky, kitsch decor in the living room was anything to judge by, the bedroom already was in need of a Morris Fletcher makeover. He’d make that room so sensual, a nun’s panties would drop just from stepping over the threshold. 

Taking a chance, he flipped through the various piles of mail on Mulder’s kitchen table until he found what he was looking for: Sears Catalog. He dialed the number on the cover and listened to the hold music play before cradling the phone against his shoulder, licking his fingers as he began flipping through the magazine. He had only flipped through a few pages in the mattress section when a full-page spread of a woman with her head thrown back in subdued ecstasy caught his attention just as the representative answered the phone. 

“Hello? Yes. I’d like to place an order for same-day delivery,” he stated, a sly grin spreading across his face as he imagined Dana in place of the woman on the ad.

TRUE PLEASURE IS…

A WATERBED

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@gaycrouton

[sillyrandomwriter]

Since it’s my B-day I’m gonna share a headcanon about birthdays :3

Adam definitely makes sure everyone knows it’s his birthday. It’s his second favorite day of the year (the first being the day he met Lute). He just loves the attention and even though he and Lute have worked on his ego, it always comes out on his special day. One more thing, he definitely left his foster home at his 18th birthday, so he’s always proud about how independent he was.

Lute never really cared about her birthday since she was a little girl until she met Adam. He always takes her out to do all her favorite activities and does his best to listen to her without talking so much. She really enjoys how much effort he puts and makes sure to reward him at the end of the night ;)

Cain for sure is like Adam on his birthday. If people aren’t paying attention to him on his birthday, then he gets jealous. He’s also the type to have a massive party at his house every year.

Abel loves traveling for his birthday. One of his parents ends up taking him and his siblings to where he wants to as a vacation for the week and his birthday present.

Seth is pretty reserved, so he just wants at least his family to wish him happy birthday and a birthday dinner, then he’s happy.

Charlie happens to have a birthday around one of her favorite cons being held. So she always goes to meet new friends, old ones, and just interact with people in general. Her brothers and parents always go along even if they’re busy just because they love her :D

Lucifer used to spend his birthday with his twin brother, Michael. But they had a “falling out” so now he just spends it looking through old and new photos of his family. (He’s petty and cuts Adam out and leaves those parts in the back of the scrapbooks)

Eve was born only a day after Adam. It used to be really sweet when they were married, but now it’s just annoying to her. Because anytime she wants to plan something with the kids for her special day, she’s gotta consider what Adam would do with them the day before. At least she has Lucifer and Lilith to “destress” with.

Lilith takes Eve and their girlfriends (expression, mostly) to the beach on her birthday. Nobody else knows exactly where it is (except Adam, since they went there on their honeymoon. But he doesn’t care about that anymore). It’s a great time for everyone involved. They drink a bunch of alcohol and can sleep with all the hot guys and girls there. Nothing they do on the beach leaves the beach.

oh my gosh yes. i loooveee all of these headcanons with my whole heart and soul, also happy birthday!! rubber im genuinely happy to have u around this blog, so again happy bday!! also yea i think these ideas all fit the characters and right now, i just have nothing else to comment on them other than the fact that they are just great

great headcanons made by a great person. again, happy bday!! :]

[slasheru]

How would the dateables + Mike react to being caught under the mistletoe with their MC crush (they're not dating yet)?

Ohhhhhh I like this one lol

MIKE: So this depends 100% on whether Mike likes you or not for-realsies: assuming the answer is "yes", he'd first A) make sure people are looking, B) make a big deal about it like "OOH YOU'RE UNDER THE MISTLETOE YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS HEH" and be super fratty and annoying about it, then C) Immediately regret drawing so much attention to himself because NOW he has to theatrically kiss you and he, like, ACTUALLY likes you, so this is gonna be so fucking awkward - anyway, it's a pretty good movie star tier kiss, but he has his eyes open the whole time making sure people are watching him kiss you. .....Might kiss you again for real if you stay under the mistletoe after everyone is gone.

TATE: This is somehow Tate's WORST NIGHTMARE. You know the episode of Gravity Falls where Dipper has like his 70-item list of things to do to impress Wendy? That's where Tate's mind is at. The mistletoe has FORCED HIS HAND. Non-zero, 90% chance he turns into Dark Tate. Dark Tate *will* kiss you, if asked.

HEX: Grinning like an idiot, yelling "HEY IT'S THE MISTLETOE WE SHOULD KISS". This is like, his dream scenario. Kind of like finding a leprechaun or something. Science couldn't have engineered a better scenario. Now they LEGALLY have to kiss!! Hex will ALSO spend the rest of the night hanging around random mistletoe hoping the Player will wander back into kissing range. (He doesn't realize you can, like, just ask to kiss whenever even when mistletoe is in the room.)

JUNO: Juno's the one who yanked the mistletoe off the ceiling hook and is dangling it above people's heads, going "should we kiss??????". An astonishing amount of people fall for this. Tries to play it SOMEWHAT cool and will kiss a bunch of people before slyly making their way to the Player, where the main event is happening.

LAILA: Laila is like, tailor-made for sweet Hallmark holiday goings-on, so she's going to be all enchanting and sparkly and clutching her mug of hot cocoa and/or spiked eggnog and cutely looking up at the Player, like, "how absurd! Mistletoe! I expect they expect us to kiss... well, I'm not playing their game... unless....?????". (Hallmark Movie Laila holiday special when)

SAWYER: Puts on his big serial grinning face and is like "wouldja look at that". Followed by an IMMEDIATE reeling back into Sensitive Mode and being like "but of course that's such an outdated tradition, the idea of nonconsensual forced holiday kissing is so ridiculous. It only works if both parties are into it. .....Which brings me back to the mistletoe." Yes, he somehow managed to lawyer (er, law-school) mistletoe. Will get you a cup of holiday beverage afterwards and snuggle on the couch if you let him.

[ayellowcurtain]

They always knew they wanted to buy a place for them to live.

It was never an easy task, but they both needed a secure place that nobody could take and break apart. Maybe it’s the broken family syndrome from one and the desperate need for as much security as possible from the other mixed together.

Their apartment is far from perfect, but it is more than enough at the same time. It wasn’t the newest and was far from a dream location, but the whole process of renovating, cleaning, and painting felt so grounding that Sander couldn’t think of ever moving from here.

He’s feeling off this morning, but he managed to make some things to get himself in a better mood.

He nailed their coffee this morning and didn’t forget it until it was room temperature and disgusting. It’s hot, perfect, warming his hands wrapped around his favorite mug, drinking slowly.

Their wood floor feels nice against his bare feet. They sanded everything, and now it feels soft and grounding, still with what seems to be old paint stains here and there, but that’s what makes Sander love it. The thought that, at some point, someone who loved art lived here.

And he’s naked, standing in his living room, staring at a bunch of pictures he took from Robbe over the past few years since they met. There are a few of the two of them together too, and one silly one Robbe took of him after a very special night spent at their hotel. Sander smiles, aware there’s a photo taken a second before the one he’s looking at.

He saw Robbe with his camera and teased him, not covering anything. He remembers Robbe's soft laugh, looking up from behind the camera, and asking Sander to put his hand in front of him. Then Robbe went behind the camera and took the second picture. He’s sure Robbe keeps the other one somewhere safe, where only he can sneak a look from time to time.

Sander made sure to put that photo as high as possible on the wall gallery, in a corner nobody would find. He never had enough space for this many pictures to be exposed, so he’s happy to spend the first few hours of the morning creating this masterpiece after postponing for some time since they moved.

In the back of his head, there are memories from last night: the stranger at the bar, acting like they were all friends after a five-minute conversation. Robbe was tipsy, being a little too handsy and not giving two cares about people seeing it, and that was enough for the dumb stranger to think he should comment about how Robbe seemed so in love and Sander so cold.

Even after too many drinks, Robbe came back from his trip with the comment, his alerts going off, knowing Sander was about to be rude right back.

“I promise you, there’s not a thing about this one that’s cold.” He tried to be nice and polite, as always.

All their friends were also loud, in disbelief, saying how much that stupid human was wrong. But Robbe cut the conversation short, grabbing their beers and passing them to their friends to go hang out somewhere else at the bar.

Sander felt stupid for letting that be the final trigger he needed to stop procrastinating on hanging all these frames.

-

His head is so heavy, it’s tempting to roll to his other side and fall back asleep. That would be sooo nice, but the bed is cold and empty. His headache would appreciate the coldness, but he can’t force himself to sleep alone.

So Robbe slips to a sitting position, finding his underwear right on his feet on the floor. He puts it back on, running his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes. When he opens their bedroom door, the coffee smell is so tempting it makes his stomach growl.

As he turns around the door to look for Sander, he finds him a couple of steps forward, watching their tall living room wall that’s not empty anymore. Robbe smiles because every morning is a repeated realization that this naked, painfully good-looking, messy hair with a mug in his hands is his boyfriend. This is his life. If he tried to dream about a perfect reality, it wouldn’t come close to what this is.

“Always a good morning when I find you naked around the house.” Robbe sounds as sleepy as he feels, melting against Sander’s back as soon as he’s close enough, closing his eyes for just one second. Sander’s smell is also better than the coffee smell.

He feels when his boyfriend snorts.

“Did I wake you?”

“Not even a worldwide invasion would have made me wake up this morning.” He forces himself to adjust his posture to look over Sander’s shoulder, wrapping both arms around Sander’s waist, and resting his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

He looks at all the horrible pictures of mostly him on their wall. Sander thinks he is so beautiful it made his self-esteem improve since they met, but it’s still too many pictures of him. They’re all from good memories, at least.

“We finally have your wall.”

Sander nods his head, finishing his coffee.

“That's a good idea. If we ever move anywhere. There will always be a Robbe wall.”

Robbe loves the way his name sounds when Sander says it. Maybe that’s his thing from now on. Record the love of all his life saying his name in every possible situation and play it over and over again.

“If you say so…”

“I do”

“Okay.” Robbe kisses his neck, taking a deep breath against his skin.

“Maybe that’ll make me warmer.”

Robbe snorts just like Sander does constantly, letting go of him to grab his empty mug to refill it for himself.

“If you warm up just a little bit, you’ll burn this house down. You’re like a heather. That's why I like sleeping better when I’m all wrapped around you like a snake, trying to steal your painfully good warmth. And sexiness.” Robbe winks at Sander when he looks at him over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised and a lazy smile on his lips.