#that also has a high shield!

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Thinking plotting scheming of pt, but make it diceyd/ungeons. I think it fits so well; the plot of dd is so cute and its easy to smush existing characters into that universe.

Peppino wishes for his debt to be cleared and for his shop to be successful. Pman wants him and his art to be famous and revered beyond his wildest dreams. Vigi wants Justice or whatever (but hes actually here to be nosy about the ins and outs of the show itself). Noise wants MONEY and FAME. Mysterious man who looks like peppino wants his own shop :). All the pt bosses are dd bosses before going ‘hey, u know what? This gig kinda sucks ass. If u think u can take on the big cheese im jumpin onboard w you’.

Thats all i got LOL i am debating if i still want lady luck to be the boss or let pizzaface be the big bad and just remove the existing dd characters entirely. Pizzahead would always be the jester, and therefore, always be your last die/teammate, which i think is cute heehee hes tired of being a silly little guy no one takes seriously! Hes got silly dreams too!!!! Hes a silly guy w dreams!!!

[killjoy-prince]

I now know the context for the 'Doctor... you're huge' line

[vounoura]

I still have a really big soft spot for ESO's class design tbh, I think having to realistically make every spec able to perform every MMO role while also having to make every one of those classes feel noticeably unique and different even in the same role was a really fun design decision

[firebuug]

the stupid thing about anxiety that leans into straight up paranoia territory is that you can be weirdly paranoid and expectant of something terrible, worst case scenario ever to happen like, all the time, but since it's never happened to you you know it's unreasonable. but the moment one of the things you're crazy about actually happens, all those other extremely way more unreasonable things suddenly become plausible in your head by association, so now you're just on guard ALL the time. it's like throwing your anxiety a bone and because it was good that time and did a good job of preparing you for it now it's like ok! I will do this for everything else too and i will do a good job. but really it just needs to be put down

[scarletiswailing347]

thought of some really cool backstory for killer!zam for the dbl au but i Cannot tell if it clashes with the canon lore or not cause i havent looked into it enough yet

[ectoplasmer]

actually no I think it’d be really funny if my hs s/i and my ygo s/i switched places

[waywardsalt]

finally got around to putting together elden ring builds for the post-ph crew, and tested them out briefly, so here are the builds i came up with and all that! (absolutely a very long post, i had fun explaining a lot of my reasoning)

i'm not going to give them exact stats, just some vague idea of what they'd likely lean towards, and i can't say much to what equip load they have. when i tested these builds out i had 72 endurance. this uses exclusively base-game equipment since i don’t have the dlc and wanted to test these out for myself.

i also don’t use many spells or any incantations so the spell and incantation choices are mostly based on wiki descriptions and whether or not i felt it would fit the character.

some context is that this is with the idea that somehow these four get zapped into the lands between as tarnished, and this is the equipment i think they’d use, disregarding what is needed to access most of this stuff.

i also didn't change my tarnished's appearance for these, not that i think i could accurately replicate these four in elden ring's character creator, anyways, so you get to see my tarnished's face with all of these :)

Link:

His armor is: the highwayman hood, the blue cloth vest, exile gauntlets, and Carian knight greaves.

There's practically no green armor in this game, and what is there isn't really armor and isn’t exactly good protection. I wanted a bit of a balance between just cloth, but also some armor, as well as a headpiece somewhat like the usual hero's cap. The highwayman's hood works well enough, honestly, and I think it fits in well with the blue cloth vest; plus, I can see it being helpful in keeping dust and whatnot out of his eyes. Blue works well enough with Link nowadays, and I do think the blue cloth vest actually fits Link well enough- I doubt he'd want to wear something like a plate breastplate, so a vest like this is good.

The exile gauntlets I feel work well, they're simple and slim with some decent coverage, and the Carian knight graves not only look great with the blue cloth vest, but are also something that I believe fits Link, and the tall boots are likely decently practical in the same vein as the hood.

His weapons I chose are: The Carian knight's sword, with the pulley bow as a secondary weapon, and the Carian knight's shield in his offhand, with the academy glintstone staff as a secondary.

He obviously had to be the good standard sword-and-shield combo fighter, but I went ahead and gave him with Carian sword and shield partially because they look decently similar to what weapons he normally uses, but also because I enjoy the idea of him dabbling in magic along with typical damage types. The Carian sword does a good bit of magic damage along with standard, and the shield guards again both of those types, and the sword's unique ash of war (Carian Grandeur) is a good mix between swordfighting and magic, and actually really good to use in-game. I feel like they suit him well.

For his secondaries, I had to give him a bow, and I feel like the pulley bow is just right, especially with it's special feature of having increased range. I could see him being the one tasked with deactivating faraway traps and hunting the animals of the Lands Between for materials, and even just luring enemies with some normal arrows.

The academy glintstone staff is a solid staff (and the one I personally use), and him using magic is a good way to translate his usual versatility, though I only limited him to five spells, those being:

Loretta's greatbow, giving him what is technically now a second bow, and a pretty good spell for luring and doing some decent magic damage,

Magma shot, a good, simple fire damage spell,

Glintstone Icecrag, a good ice spell, especially for causing frostbite buildup,

Great glintstone shard, a very basic but reliable spell, and is good when cast a few times in succession,

and Thops' barrier, for deflecting magic attacks, and though I've heard it's a mediocre spell, I could see Link getting the timing down and getting some good usage out of it. I tried giving him a decent range of spells, which is a little bit easier said then done considering the actual spell variety and wanting to pick spell that I think suit Link, but I think this is a good lineup.

For talismans, assuming that all four of them have all four talisman slots open, Link gets the silver scarab, the graven-mass talisman, the erdtree's favor +2, and the companion jar.

The silver scarab, raising item discovery is... perfect for Link. It only feels right that he gets a talisman that makes him more likely to get items off enemies. It definitely works, too, while testing, I got way more items out of the gatefront ruins group than I'd ever seen before.

The graven-mass talisman boosts sorcery power, which is certainly perfect for boosting Link's versatility and magic power, simple and useful.

The erdtree’s favor +2 is just an all-around great talisman to use for the hp, mp, and stamina boost, and it feels perfect as something for Link to use, especially to increase his effectiveness and endurance in battle.

And then the companion jar, which goes hand-in-hand with him also being a pot user to further his versatility, and it’s very easy to see him doing the Jar-Bairn side quest. My choices here disregard how the items are obtained, but I could absolutely see Link going out of his way to interact with Jarburg.

Link’s standard fighter, with a balance between offense and defense and physical and magical damage with a slight leaning towards magical, and the main archer who aims to do more damage with archery, and uses pots when needed. He’s probably the one ‘leading the charge’ in that he’s suited for most situations, but isn’t necessarily the most effective in all-out combat- he is the most defensively oriented, however. He’s likely in the mid-to-light equip range, and likely mostly levels Strength and Intelligence to keep his damage up, and focuses a lot on keeping his Vigor up for a good chunk of health.

Linebeck:

His armor is: the black knife armor, the gauntlets, and bandit boots.

The black knife armor is the most important part of the set, not just for it being a nice blue, but because it has the unique effect of completely silencing your movement sounds- perfect for steal and getting in a good number of sneak attacks. It’s light, too, and so are the generally standard gauntlets and bandit boots, all put together for a general… blue rogue kind of look? It’s practicality and some looks and all put around the idea that he’s going to be sneaking around and panic-rolling out of the enemy’s way- so his defenses are a bit lacking in favor of mobility. I do think it’s a good look overall.

His weapons are: A bloody antspur rapier with the poison mist ash of war, the redbranch shortbow as a secondary weapon, and the frozen needle in the offhand.

For Linebeck's build, it was either daggers or rapiers, and the extra damage, range, and great designs for the rapier won out- and I think rapiers suit him well. This specific pair of rapiers are oriented around inflicting ailments, with the frozen needle inflicting frostbite, and the antspur rapier- specifically with the poison mist ash of war and blood upgrade- can inflict scarlet rot, bloodloss, and poison with poison mist active. With the blood upgrade, the scarlet rot buildup suffers, but with the speed of rapiers and just how effective scarlet rot can be, it's a decent trade-off for the ability to do four ailments at once. His role in the Radahn fight is to inflict scarlet rot and then run off to snipe him with the redbranch shortbow, which is a simple ranged option, and helps with further ailment inflicting with ailment arrows.

His damage would probably be pretty decent, especially considering inflicting frostbite and his equipped talismans, but he's mostly going to be heading in with everyone and sticking around until proccing an ailment, and then backing off, especially if poison, rot, or frostbite are inflicted. Plus I think dual rapiers look great and it's very easy to see Linebeck using rapiers.

For talismans, he gets the gold scarab, the assassin's crimson dagger, the dagger talisman, and the blessed dew talisman.

The gold scarab boost rune acquisition by 20%. It's perfect. It's one of my favorite talismans. I can't make an Elden Ring build for Linebeck and NOT give him the money-boosting talisman.

The assassin's crimson dagger restores hp upon successful critical hits, and paired with the silencing effect of the black knife armor, is perfect for someone who's more used to sneaking around and taking down enemies from behind- and it's good for topping off your hp.

The dagger talisman boosts critical damage- so then making sneak attacks all the more effective, and even making any critical hits he manages in fights do much more damage.

And then the blessed dew talisman gives you a very minuscule constant hp regen, about 2 hp per second iirc. It’s incredibly slow, but it's hp regen all the same, good for saving flask uses and good for some health regeneration if you back out of the main fight.

Linebeck's got a big focus on stealth and ailments, with just a bit of health regen tossed in with the talismans to help with survivability. his weapons and offhand options are mainly based around ailments, and besides the bow, he tends to use darts and other throwable items, and is often the one to pick off enemies at the edge of a group while the others go in to the handle the main group. With bosses, he's in the front lines until an ailment is inflicted, and will jump back in either if he's really needed, or if ailments are needed again. For longer bosses, or bosses immune to a few ailments, he would probably find moments to jump in and get a bunch of quick hits in, then back out and wait for another opening. Rapiers are pretty good for quick hits considering that I believe you actually get three attacks from a dual-rapier sprint attack. He’d likely have a focus on Dexterity and Arcane, with some Endurance mixed in for that good running and rolling stamina.

Damien:

His armor is; the sacred crown helm, exile armor, crucible gauntlets, and drake knight greaves.

Picking armor for Damien was a bit of a challenge since he’s still a bit of a work in progress and I usually picture him in generally casual clothes, but I knew I wanted to stick with some red clothing and put together a bit more of a practical sort of outfit. Plus this end result kind of helps me further figure out Damien’s actual design and outfit variations.

I knew I wanted to give him one of the simple footsoldier helmets, and the sacred crown helm won out with the additional detail of the little vine-looking wreath, plus the minor faith boost. It’s a nice little helmet and I think it suits him. The exile armor was considered due to the red cloth around the shoulders, and was properly decided on when I found that the helmet got rid of the cloth covering the bottom half of the face. So it’s a good solid chest piece.

The crucible gauntlets and drake knight greaves work both with color and giving him some more armored extremities, the crucible gauntlets are pretty good heavy armor gauntlets, if the crucible knights themselves are anything to go by, and the drake knight graves seem to have a good bit of practicality with the high boots and armor. It’s all meant to end up somewhere in the medium equip load area, for a balance between defense and speed, and the lighter helmet and chest piece were primarily to even out with the heavier weapons.

The weapons he gets are: the axe of Godrick, the highland axe as a secondary, and the clawmark seal.

The axe of Godrick is a pretty good greataxe with what selection there is, some good damage and a really good ash of war skill with a really good area of effect. It’s fantastic for crowd control when two-handed, and worked pretty well for me when I tested it out without having upgraded it. It’s all in all a great standard axe. The highland axe as a secondary is used partially as a faster one-hand option, and partially for the boost given by its war cry ash of war. The axe of Godrick is almost always what he’d use, but the highland axe is probably better for some specific situations. Damien was always going to end up using axes, and I think these two are pretty good and fitting.

In his other hand is the clawmark seal- scaling with faith and strength and so working well with him relying on strength, and boosting bestial incantations, of which he has one- and he mostly uses support incantations with some minor attack incantations- but he is primarily support, usually backing out of the fight to switch to casting due to usually two-handing the axe of Godrick. He gets six incantations, those being:

Heal, as a very standard heal, mostly just for himself,

Erdtree heal, a heal more intended for group healing,

Golden vow, a group offense and defense buff for a time,

Protection of the erdtree, for increased non-physical defense, which is likely useful for many bosses,

Bestial sling, which is a pretty basic but effective attack incantation, and boosted by the seal he uses, and is probably great in tandem with his axes to break an enemy's poise,

and then Dragonclaw as his final spell, a stronger and closer-up attack spell, likely for individual bosses that are lower on hp.

His offenses are standard and meant to be pretty decent for crowd control and poise-breaking, so his attack spells follow suite, while his support options are based around healing and some basic buffs. I personally do not use buffs or incantations when I play, so I do not know the nuances of a lot of this stuff, but Damien's got a good set of incantations to use.

Damien's set of talismans are the green turtle talisman, the mottled necklace +1, the axe talisman, and the bull-goat's talisman.

The green turtle talisman is a great talisman, simply increasing the speed of stamina regeneration, and it's a fantastic talisman. Very useful with the stamina drained by axe attacks and backing off to cast spells.

The mottled necklace boosts immunity, robustness, and focus, an across-the-board status boost, and I imagine it's useful for being up close with enemies and then staying alive to help with support- even if he doesn't have much in the way of ailment-based support.

The axe talisman is a damage booster, and considering his decent poise, charged attacks are pretty viable for him to be using.

The bull-goat's talisman is standard but very effective in practice (or maybe that's me being used to low poise), as it raises poise, therefore making it harder for you to flinch or be knocked out of an attack. Very helpful with a slower main weapon like the axe of Godrick.

Damien's standard all around, with pretty good damage and likely very helpful with crowd control, usually two-handing the axe for maximum damage and will back off when using incantations. He primarily uses incantations for support, and the offensive incantations are usually saved for bosses or rougher encounters- or sometimes just if he wants to switch things up for fun. He's likely going to focus on Strength and Faith, with some Mind thrown in for most casts.

Bellum:

His armor is: the altered tree sentinel armor, and the malformed dragon gauntlets and greaves.

Chosen partially for the color and because they're all heavy plate armor; meant to emulate a lot of the phantom designs, and for that yellow color, and I wasn't even aware that the malformed dragon gauntlets had a darker color until I was initially putting this together. Heavy armor fits with a desire to survive in battle, plus I think decent mobility in heavy armor suits Bellum; when I tested this out, I was firmly in medium equip load territory, plus it made for a good bit of poise to go with slower weapons. It wasn't too hard to pick out armor for him.

The weapons I felt suit him are: the blasphemous blade, the Marais executioner's sword, with the gravel stone seal as a secondary.

The blasphemous blade was practically necessary, a greatsword with the bonus effect of hp restoration on enemy death, plus the Taker's Flames skill, which also heals hp when it hits an enemy. This is was made me decide on greatswords over colossal weapons, trying to stick a bit with some ideas from the phantoms, plus the hp-leeching effects, plus it’s a pretty good weapon and I think it originally belonging to Rykard also fits pretty well; it’s Bellum’s main weapon unless he switches to the Marais Executioner’s sword for it’s specific skill. That sword is mostly chosen for it’s skill, as well as it’s origins- those bellum-bearing hunter’s are absolute nightmares to deal with- so the two swords are kind of also picked for a sort of intimidation effect. At least the wriggling flesh on the blasphemous blade does the job well enough if someone doesn’t know the origins (which don’t practically matter). He would likely switch to the executioner’s sword for some boss fights, and its skill can be highly damaging to lone enemies- the focus with these two is on heavy damage and hp regen.

The secondary left hand weapon he has is the gravel stone seal, which boost dragon incantations, and so he only uses offense incantations, with a lot of incantations that cover a wide area and some that inflict ailment buildup. Bellum gets five incantations, all attacks (and all maybe emulating the idea that he’s a monster forced to be human in the lands between lol);

Beast claw, a pretty standard but pretty effective ground-level attack,

Unendurable frenzy, a wide range, fiery madness-inflicting incantation that, while only inflicting madness on a select few enemies (and himself) is likely more than useful for crowds and large enemies,

Rotten breath, a dragon communion incantation that is about what it says on the tin, a dragon’s breath attack that inflicts scarlet rot,

Fortissax’s lightning spear, another dragon incantation that summons a pair of lightning spears, with the damage at it’s best up close,

and Aspects of the crucible: tail, a wide-range crucible incantation, and the most fitting of the crucible incantations, I feel.

He has no issue getting up close to bosses, since he can fall back on the honestly insane hp regen he’s afforded by both his main weapon and some of his talismans.

The talismans Bellum gets are; the taker’s cameo, the dragoncrest greatshield talisman, the pearldrake talisman +2, and the godskin swaddling cloth.

The taker’s token has the same passive effect as the blasphemous blade; hp restoration upon enemy death. The fun part is that the taker’s token and the blasphemous blade’s hp regen effects stack with each other.

The dragoncrest greatshield talisman reduces physical damage by 20%, and the pearldrake talisman +2 reduces non-physical damage by about 11%. Covering just about all defenses with these two talismans.

The godskin swaddling cloth allows for additional minor hp restoration upon landing a certain number of melee hits within a short timeframe. This could be harder with greatswords, but with dual greatswords and jumping right into the action, I don’t imagine it’s at all impossible for the talisman’s effect to never trigger. As always, it’s extra effective with a larger number of enemies.

Bellum’s the main damage-dealer with a focus on staying power and lots of hp regen, using the blasphemous blade for regular battles while switching to the executioner’s sword for bosses due to the more aggressive ash of war. His incantations are more often used for crowd control, but are absolutely effect for boss battles, especially when given time to charge them up. He’s all about staying power and straightforward damage-dealing, with some decent poise to back things up despite his checking piece being altered and his lack of a helmet, and all of his incantations are a bit more bestially-inclined. He'd probably focus on Vigor and Strength, with some Faith or Dexterity thrown in for damage-dealing.

Overall, the idea is that the four of them are in the lands between like this, working and running around together, probably fighting over what bosses to go after next and whether or not to head into the catacombs that one of them just spotted. I could see them taking the time to scour the lands between for every little trinket and discussing whether or not to bother with some character's quest. Not too different from actual post-ph stuff, but it's fun to put them in Elden Ring and think on what kinds of equipment to give them and what would suit them.

[sakurarisen]

Whooo, update time! <3 I've been working on Sera's carrd to get a bunch of stuff added and updated for the last few days, and I've gotten to most of it now I think-

-The phoenix lore has been added where it was most important! I'll be writing up a full page detailing the original mythos/legend in more detail later on, when I have a clearer head, but for now there's details and points to it in various places, along with nods to the fact that, 7 verse with materia or not, Sera is very much a natural with ice and healing abilities as a result of being part of the Snow Phoenix, Aria's, bloodline. How this manifests though varies by verse, with things like 7 requiring materia to help her use any kind of magic, and Genshin Impact verse requiring the use of her cryo vision, and the lore has seen minor tweaks to fit into each setting, detailed in the verse specific misc sections. I have yet to add this info to the Spellbound or Genshin sections, and will be doing so within the coming days.

-Also noted is that Sera and Shiva share a close connection in 7 verses due to this lore, though Sera herself can't tell you much about it, personally. Aria was an elemental familiar of Shiva's, and was hidden away by the goddess a long time ago - But as Shiva can still sense her old friend's bloodline, she's quite taken with Sera and even refuses her calls in an attempt to protect her. This connection is valid solely with the Shiva I write on Shinrarisen, and who will be seeing her own updates in the future.

-I've also rewritten some details among her misc sections to make more sense overall, and tweaked them where they needed, including a mention of Sera overworking herself or falling into a subserviant mindframe while dealing with trauma and PTSD related issues, and that @yoroiis's Thoma, her eldest brother, holds the bloodline of the snow phoenix's brother, the fire phoenix, Aelius, and is part of the reason why their relationship is so tight. Further tweaks have gone into her physical appearance and things like her occupation and hometown, as I've tried to make the main about page less FF-centric and more generalized with notes to what changed in FF.

-Also noted is how her bloodline has drawn her to lifesprings, one of which is the 'koi pond and community garden' in her backstory when it comes to FF7 settings.

-Also of really important but also longest note is a new, small section added to Sera's personality that will be shown more going forward: How she acts with those she trusts most. I've never made it a secret that Sera is very different with people she trusts, and that the more you earn her trust, the more relaxed and playful, even childish, she can seem, all with respect to those around her and their boundaries... But I've always been wary of showing her at her most relaxed, and that's changing going forward, too. Sera is always respectful of those around her and what they can and can't stand and will always present herself in a manner that they're going to be comfortable with, but a Sera that trusts is also an incredibly comfortable Sera, and one who's guard is completely lowered to show the woman deep within she usually keeps hidden from the world - And that woman is one who never had an actual childhood, and is still very naive and innocent.

A fully relaxed and trusting Sera is playful and silly, and will act childish... Because she was never allowed to be otherwise. She's only able to explore 'childhood' now, and she's doing it through those she's closest to; she's relaxed and playful because she has no reason to be afraid those those she's around. She carries a stuffed husky named Zax because it makes her feel better and is a connection to her husband, but it's also just her favorite stuffed animal, and a comfort. She'd wear light up sneakers and hop around in wonder and pure childish delight because they're super cool - But also because she was never allowed this kind of thing before. This is her first experience with it, and she's enjoying it, but she also knows how to be a mature adult when needed of her, or when to tone it down because someone around her doesn't care for silliness; ex. she's not going to run up to @azure-steel's Cloud and give him a stuffed animal if he's not shown he's okay with that kind of behavior around him just because she feels comfortable and safe with him first, but she's also not going to hide the fact she has her stuffed husky or how she lights up completely at a toy store, either. How much of this childish side shows depends on who she's with and how much she knows they'd accept and be okay with, and she'll never cross that line - and especially not act as such in public.

This is also the point where those closest to her will find her last line of defense; Sera has taken pieces of everything others have shown the see in her and treat her as, and used it to form a wall around her heart that, ultimately, is the last protection she keeps up around those she trusts to keep herself safe. Though she is relaxed, content, and happy with those she trusts, she's still plagued by trauma, PTSD, anxiety, and a nightmare deep down that has nearly claimed her life more than once, and this 'last line of defense' is Sera's ultimate go-to to cope with it all, a 'shield' of sorts to keep the nightmares at bay. The biggest example of this is the nickname @honorisen's Zack has given her of 'Kitten'; Sera DOES NOT actually think she's a cat, yet she's still prone to calling herself 'Kitty' with those who're comfortable with it, meowing playfully to get their attention if they're close by, and even viewing problems that creep up as her being a 'bad kitty' - Again, not because she thinks she's a cat, but because it's silly, playful, and makes her feel happy to be silly like that... But also because 'bad kitty' makes things easier for her to cope with, and prevents the nightmares and traumas from forcing her into a spiral that can quickly get out of control. "I've been a bad kitty" is easier for her to cope with when her traumas strike than letting the nightmares make her believe "Sera is a horrible human being nobody would miss". for example, because she's having a flare of her PTSD and someone happened to be minorly irritated with her at the same time.

As mentioned above too, this is all changes mainly made to Sera as an original, multi-fandom/multi-verse character and tweaked to fit into her current settings, as well as updates that were a long time coming anyway, and I'll be finishing up with these updates by working on the Spellbound and Genshin sides tomorrow and over the weekend, which should be much simpler to add things to given her primary, overall info has been updated here, and tweaking some of my rules to account for things in Rebirth and the new Phoenix lore. I'll also be updating again in the future and fine-tuning phrasing as I go through Rebirth (slowly-) alongside @honorisen / @yoroiis, as we get time and chances to play and build up our thoughts; I haven't wanted to add too much regarding it just yet given she's still in Chapter 2 and I'm in chapter 4 at the time of this post! <3

It's been a long, long time since I've been able to update my girl like she deserves, and I'm gonna make that up by getting as much as I can done over this upcoming weekend! <3

~Pom

[gojoest]

URGES — gojo satoru

MDNI, pregnancy freak!satoru, f!reader, established relationship (married), reader is pregnant, public sex (in the train, but it’s just the tip), reader is going through hormonal changes that cause a very high sex drive + wears a dress, unprotected sex, pet names (sweetness), wc: 1.3k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

a/n: i implemented the ideas suggested by @/tapiocakisses & @/cherriel0v3r into this drabble, big thank you <3

Satoru adores every bit about your pregnancy.

Certainly, his favorite thing about it is the baby bump that had slowly started forming — all because it is the most unambiguous sign that you belong to someone.

Surely, he also likes to put his hands on your belly. He places them on top when you sit together, rubs it softly, or gently shields it with his palm as you walk down the street while his other hand firmly sits at the small of your back — after all, this is the most unambiguous sign that you belonged to him, because not just any man would walk around touching a pregnant woman like that.

Not just any man, but the father himself.

But recently, there is another aspect of your pregnancy that he had grown extremely fond of — almost addicted, in fact, to the point he thinks he won’t be able to live any other way once this “side effect” subsides.

High sex drive…

…which comes as a result of increased hormonal shifts in your body, causing an abysmal spike in your libido. Thus meaning, you keep him quite busy.

These arousal outbursts occur at random times of the day, and Satoru is always ready to deliver — even if it means making regular stops at home during work hours (a few times a day) or ending a mission in an abrupt and brutal manner (unnecessary hollow purpling curses left and right that otherwise could’ve been handled with less effort).

It is all for a good cause — he needs to take care of his pregnant wife.

Sometimes you’d wake him up in the middle of the night, pawing at his cock, sweetly and innocently asking him to fuck you.

The blood has never rushed faster to his groin before. In all honesty, those are the times he struggles with his self-restraint because you drive him absolutely nuts with a single word, and the fact that you need him this bad, so bad that you’re already wet down there between your legs — and he can smell it, so bad that you wake him up rubbing your thighs together asking for his cock because your fingers aren’t good enough to reach certain spots… messes with his head oh so terribly. If you weren’t in this fragile, pregnant state, he’d pin you down nasty and fuck the living hell out of you until you pass out.

He thinks to himself, that once the child is born the first thing he’ll do is fuck your brains out in the most obscene of positions that weren’t suitable during the pregnancy and take his pent-up frustration from holding back his stroke game out on that pretty cunt of yours. Well, until he knocks you up all over again.

…because he wants to keep you pregnant and needy for him, all the time.

Until then, he’ll fuck you tenderly. Sometimes with just the tip…

…as you so happen to be in public — in the train, on your way to visit the zoo during one of his rarely free days, when your urges just so happened to kick in. Again.

Even though, he fucked you good before leaving the house. Pretty sure his cum is still staining the inner of your panties even — the panties that are now slid to the side as you’re backed against one of the corners of the train where it’s relatively secluded, with your husband standing before you holding the hem of your dress up and high enough to access what’s underneath. His pants undone but still intact around his legs, it’s just the zipper that is down for his cock to be out and the tip prodding in your cunt.

It’s a good thing that he’s a big man and that his frame can cover the entirety of you once he is in front of you, so that people entering or leaving the wagon wouldn’t witness the obscenity beyond him. Fortunately, all they see is the huge, broad back of a tall, well-built man. And, well, a pair of smaller feet that could be spotted through his spread lower limbs, that is, if you looked down.

“Shh—“, cupping your cheek with his free hand Satoru quietly hushes you, tracing his index finger over your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, moving your hips slightly to swallow more of him inside you, and not just the tip. “I don’t want other people to hear the sweet noises you make, they’re for my ears only, okay?”

His finger moves away from your mouth, giving way for his lips to seal them instead. Because he knows that you won’t listen to him. You never do. And he really can’t make peace with the possibility of someone catching on to your voice. Not because you’d be busted fucking in broad daylight, inside of a train of all places. But because, that voice you make when his cock is inside you? It’s really just for him to hear and keep.

“Please, sweetness— just whisper your moans to me, in my ear only”, he mumbles against your lips, just barely breaking the kiss so he could beg for you to keep it down. Growing concerned on what he could possibly do if someone were to actually hear you.

“Nghh—”, you pant into him, incoherent. Easier said than done, you think but the words don’t make it out. All that is in your mind is how bad you want his cock inside you, all of it. The tip only is doing more damage than any good, teasing you further.

“Fuck me for real, ‘Toru”, you hiss at him, grabbing a chunk of his hair before dragging your nails down his undercut, then down his back, and then lower, and lower, and lower — until you reach his ass. Your hand kneading on it, sneakily luring his hips into you.

He wavers, he really does.

Beads of sweat sliding down his forehead, his bangs damp and sticking on his skin. His cheeks flushed while he breathes in heavy stutters as tremors run up and down his body, causing him to buck himself forward just a tiny bit before he stops himself. Terrified of losing his mind if he goes an inch deeper in you, because then — people would know and unfortunately see you in a state that only he is allowed to see.

His extreme possessiveness of you being the only voice of reason in him right now, no matter how contradicting the present situation is. He wants people to know that he fucks you, but he does not want them to witness it. His wish to be the only one you give yourself to is followed by the desire to be the only witness to how you do it.

“Yeah?”, he scoffs, his head falling back for a second then shifting to its previous position. Shortly after his neck cranes down and he nestles his forehead on the nook of your shoulder.

“Do you know what it costs me to stop myself from going all the way in? Do you have any idea how fucking good you feel?”, he laughs in a daze. “Pretty sure I just lost about 10 years of my life holding back, so please — please, don’t let anyone get to that sweet voice”, he pleads through a heavy breath. His voice is really desperate. Like he really is fighting for his life there, trying to keep your voice pristine to his ears only.

“There’s a café three stops away”, he continues after he peels his head away from your shoulder and looks at you through half-lidded eyes. “I can give you the rest there — can you be a good girl for me till then?”

You nod.

The zoo visit was clearly off the table now. But in a few more minutes you would be on the bathroom counter — legs spread and a cockful of your husband inside you — getting what you deserve.

[prythianpages]

Be Patient | Azriel x Reader

summary: After the mating bond snaps, Azriel follows you to the Day Court, where he spends seven days patiently longing after you.

warnings: fluff, mild angst bc of Az pining and lowkey being a menace in day court and reader being a little dense, also this is really long, 11K, my longest one shot ever...

note: This is a part two to Be Safe but can be read as a stand alone too. Huge shoutout to @stormhearty , @daycourtofficial & @thecrowesnest13 & the sweet overexcited anon who helped me with this! This is set pre-ACOTAR events and I realized my mistake in naming Helion as High Lord because I think he became High Lord UTM? so for this fic's sake, let's just assume he was already High Lord..

Mate. 

The realization crashes over Azriel like a tidal wave. It’s almost suffocating. Mine, the bond in his chest roars. Protect. The emotions swell, fueled by his shadows whispering and urging him on to go and keep you safe. Because who better to do so than him?

Before he knows it, he’s following you into Day Court, his shadows swallowing his form until Mor’s and Cassian’s laughter are distant echoes.

Piercing violet eyes greet him as soon as he steps out from his shadows, blocking his view. It’s almost as if he had been expecting Azriel. Talons rake across the shields of his mind and Azriel reluctantly lets him in. Go back, Rhysand asserts, holding the shadowsinger’s gaze.

I can’t, he nearly growls in his mind. 

The thought of leaving you, not being by your side is insufferable. It’s this very thought that has some of his shadows dancing toward you, the shadow curled around his ear whispering to him about your whereabouts. You stand, a couple of feet away, speaking with Helion. You’re completely oblivious to the two Illyrian males glaring at one another.

What do you mean you can’t? Rhysand doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation in his tone.

Azriel then shows Rhysand what happened just moments ago. The mating bond snapping into place right as you were winnowing away. He leaves out the part where Cassian and Mor had been teasing him but he suspects Rhysand was aware of that.

Rhysand lets out a sigh, running a hand down the length of his face. What appears to be exhaustion tears through his features before he leans in toward the taller male. “Really?” He whispers in an exasperated hush. “Right now?

Azriel falters with a huff, his head following the direction his shadows had gone. It’s only when his gaze lands on you that it softens. “You say it like I had a choice.” 

But boy is he glad it is you.

”Fine,” Rhysand sighs after a long moment of silence. He knows he can’t do anything about it, the determination in the Shadowsinger’s eyes burning bright. He’d fear going against the Cauldron if he did. “You can stay. But—“ he lifts a jewel adorned finger in warning“—you distract her—“

Azriel’s head turns back to Rhysand and there’s a frown on his face. ”I don’t distract her.”

”Please,” Rhysand chuckles in disbelief. “Listen, I’m happy for you. Truly. But we didn’t come all this way for nothing and I need her to be able to focus. She can’t even think properly around you and if she finds out you’re her–”

“She thinks about me?”

Rhysand shuts his mouth with a withering stare.

Azriel’s shadows are then whispering madly, coercing him to turn his attention back to you. You’re giggling and smiling at Helion, cheeks flushed with a blush. Azriel flushes too but for an entirely different reason. Helion has your hand in his, amber eyes holding you captive, as he’s slowly lifting it up to his lips. 

Shadows are coiling softly around your wrist and before Helion can kiss your hand, your hand is being pulled away from his. Helion’s brows furrow, hand falling to his side as one lone shadow floats in front of him. He is not fluent in shadows but the way it writhes at him gives one clear message.  

”Oh, hi!”

Azriel watches, taking note of the small fond smile that forms on your face as you recognize the dark tendrils wrapped around your arm. Your eyes find him almost immediately and then you’re walking toward him.   

“Azriel, what are you doing here?”

“Shadowsinger,” Helion purrs in greeting, a pleased smirk on his face that grows at Azriel’s indifferent nod. “I was not aware you were coming too.”

Rhysand places a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft, black leather. Don’t say anything. Rhysand warns in his mind. We’ll talk somewhere else.

Rhysand forces a charming smile onto his face and Helion’s eyes flicker with interest. “I apologize for the short notice but Azriel is here to… escort y/n.”

“Escort?”

Both you and Helion say in unison. Though Helion’s tone carries mirth, yours carries shock. Confusion clouds your features, worry flickering in your wide eyes. Rhysand must’ve eased your mind, for Azriel feels the tension leave your muscles shortly afterwards. Still, you inch closer to him, as if seeking the comfort of his presence. He instinctively mirrors your movement, the blue siphons on his leathers brushing against your arm and gleaming in response.

 “You offend me, Rhys. I’ve welcomed you to my court with no ill intention.” Helion chides, though his voice is light with humor.

“y/n here is just very precious to us,” Rhysand says, choosing his words carefully. “I hope you can understand.”

Azriel’s shadows whisper the details of the scene around him, noting the apologetic look Rhysand sends to Helion. The High Lord of Day chuckles, but Azriel’s focus remains steadfastly on you. You turn to him with a questioning smile and he returns your smile, the warmth in his hazel eyes answering your unspoken question.

“I can see why,” comes Helion’s response, gaze lingering on you with an appreciative gleam.

Azriel’s head whips fast toward the High Lord of the Day Court and another sigh escapes Rhysand.

**

“Seven days. That’s all I ask.”

“That’s seven days too long, Rhys.”

Rhysand falters back, appalled by those words. He lets out a small laugh.  “Too long? Seven days is too long but a whole century wasn’t?”

“It hasn’t been a century,” Azriel hisses and Rhysand raises his brows. “It’s been eighty nine years. Besides, it’s different now.”

You’re his mate now.  

The mating bond had snapped into place with such force that he was still reeling from its impact. It was as if every emotion of his was amplified, sending a startling quiver through those golden threads in his chest. Jealousy jerked the most. It’s why every few seconds, his gaze flickered towards the hall you had disappeared into with the High Lord known for his scandalous appetites. One of his shadows had stayed with you and though he knew it would come back if Helion tried anything, it did nothing to ease him. He should be beside you right now. Not beside Rhysand, who seemed keen on keeping you from him.

“You saw the way she looked at you when you arrived.”

Azriel turned back to Rhysand, that image of you reappearing in his mind from Rhysand’s perspective. Surprise had flickered across your features, but like a passing storm cloud, it swiftly gave way to brightness. Your eyes sparkled, your lips curved into a fond smile. Without hesitation, you left Helion's side, drawn instinctively toward Azriel.  It was as if nothing else mattered but him, as if there was no one else in the world but you two.

The bond in his chest sings in delight because overriding all other emotions swirling madly around, there is love.

Azriel had loved you long before the bond’s sudden manifestation. His feelings had grown silently over the years, nurtured through shared moments and unspoken gestures. He knew he had to confess his feelings to you–something that had been eating at him for years. Eighty nine years to be exact, as he pointed out just a moment ago.

But fear always held him back.

Fear that he had mistaken your kindness for something more. Fear that he would ruin the decades of friendship you two had built. Fear that you loved him but not enough to see past his scars.

He realizes now how ridiculous those fears sound.

The kindness you harbored for him was not the same kindness you showed others. Your friendship was strong and precious, something he would fiercely protect no matter what. Your hand always sought his, never showing disgust towards the marred roughness of his own. You had even dedicated so much of your time to researching Prythian’s herbs and treatment for burns, working with Madja to make a special concoction–a soothing balm to alleviate the inevitable pains. 

By the Mother, he was a fool and it took the bond snapping into place to realize it.

“Yes. You both are.”

Now, the golden threads in his chest urged him to confess, to bridge that small lingering distance between you–

“But you can’t. Not now.”

“Get out of my head,” Azriel snaps, glaring at his brother.

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re thinking so loudly,” Rhysand replies, a touch defensively. “Look, y/n has been looking forward to this trip so much. If you tell her about the bond, it will consume her every thought and cloud that brilliant mind of hers. I know this is selfish of me but I need her to be focused and you to be patient.”

Azriel’s glare wavers. He knows how much this trip means to you. It was the first time Rhysand was entrusting a task upon you outside of the Night Court’s borders. Getting to see the magnificent library of the Day Court was also all your bibliophile heart could talk about. His desire to protect you and respect your focus battled fiercely with his yearning to tell you about the bond.

“Seven days?”

“Seven days,” Rhysand confirms, the tension easing from his face. “Then, she’s all yours. Just be patient.”

Azriel scoffs. “I’ll be so patient.”

But as they both join you and Helion for dinner, something tells Rhysand that this is going to be a long week.

**

Helion had hosted an extravagant feast for you all last night, even bringing out his finest, aged whiskey to celebrate. He had toasted it to Azriel, the surprise guest, with a cheeky wink. When his flirtatious efforts went ignored, Helion had turned his affections toward you. A notion that left Azriel seething and Rhysand on guard.

After dinner, Helion had given you a brief tour of the palace and introduced you to the fae you encountered along the way. To Azriel’s relief, the room he’d be staying in was right across from yours. His shadows had eagerly scouted the halls and both your rooms, becoming attuned to every creak and sound as an extra measure of safety. They fell asleep before he did and were the ones to wake him up when they heard you shuffling around your room.

As Azriel laces his leathers, the dark tendrils rush toward his door, peeking out underneath. It seems they are just as eager as he is to see you.

“Good morning!” You chirp happily, practically buzzing with excitement as you greet him at his door. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” A lie. Your joy is so contagious it’s easy to mask his exhaustion, his smile matching yours. “Did you?” 

He had, in fact, not slept well.

How could he when his anxiety began to gnaw at him? Because what if you grew tired of waiting for him within these seven days and gave into Helion’s charm? Each time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed with images of you reciprocating Helion’s advances, and sneaking off into his chambers in the middle of the night...

You give a noncommittal hum in response, pulling him out of his inner turmoil and bring him back to you.

 “I’m really glad you’re here, Az.”

Azriel’s shadows mirror your enthusiasm. A faint blush takes over his cheeks as you grasp his hand to tug him along with you. “Rhys has private business to attend to with Helion and I did not want to do this alone,” you say, waving your bucket list in the air with your free hand.

Of course, you had a list of things you’d like to do in Day. It instilled another fear into Azriel because what if you fell in love with Day and refused to go back to Night? He eyes all the bullet points on that list of yours and refuses to let himself make that fear come true.

Anything you loved here, he would make sure to remind you that the Night Court could do better.

“And who better to spend the day with than my loyal shadowsinger, right?” You remark with a playful glint in your eye.

“Right,” Azriel replies and there’s a brightness in his heart at your words. My loyal shadowsinger. His shadows dance in agreement.

But there is one thing the Night Court can’t replicate, a truth he reluctantly acknowledges as you both step outside into the warmth of the sun. 

A radiant smile breaks out on your face as you bask in the bright sunlight. Its golden glow kisses your skin, highlighting every feature he adores.

His leathers are not meant for this type of weather. He can feel himself growing hot, his shadows already endlessly working to keep him cool. Though you were dressed in something lighter than him, a pale blue dress, some of them flit toward you to do the same.

Azriel allows you to pull him along, savoring the feel of your hand in his. The cobblestone streets of the Day Court’s market are narrow, flanked by vibrant stalls and lively vendors. He tucks his wings tightly against his back to avoid brushing against the bustling crowd. His grip on your hand is firm. He tells himself it’s to ensure he doesn’t lose you amidst the sea of fae, but deep down, he has no intention of ever letting go.

Your first stop is a quaint little shop that, according to your research, sells the best espresso in Prythian. Azriel prefers his coffee black but you convince him to try Day’s specialty, a honey lavender latte. 

You watch him, awaiting his response.

“I hate it,” he tells you, though it’s surprisingly good. Really good.  “Velaris has better coffee.”

You take your drink back with a shrug as you head to your next stop. The flower market. As you stroll through the vibrant market stalls, you point out a cluster of flowers, your voice tinged with excitement as you describe their origins and meanings. You’re like a living encyclopedia and Azriel has always admired this about you. He asks you more questions, even if he already has the answers. Just so that he can see the light in your eyes dance with every word you speak.

A beautiful pink blossom catches his eyes as he’s read about it before, already familiar with its meaning. An idea sparks into his mind. Maybe, if he starts dropping hints, it’d make his impending confession go smoother. He tugs on your hand gently. “And this one?”

“It’s a pink camelia. A symbol of love, adoration and longing.”

He tosses a coin to the merchant and then picks the prettiest pink camelia among the bunch. He tucks it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. The shadows that cling to him, hiding from the sun, peek out from above his shoulders, stirring in anticipation as you look up at Azriel and smile.

“y/n, I–”

His words hang in the air, the tendrils too distracted by you to notice the merchant approaching. Suddenly, a hand appears between you both, golden bracelets dangling before your eyes. “A pretty bracelet for the pretty lady?” the fae male asks. “They’re one of a kind!”

Your eyes widen as you take in the shimmering jewelry. “How much?”

“Ten coins,” the merchant replies, but as his eyes roam over you, he adds, “But for you, five.”

“Okay,” you agree, not having the heart to say no.

You reach for one of the gold bracelets, its chain holding a gleaming sun made of amber in the center. Before you can even open your coin purse, Azriel shoves ten coins into the merchant’s awaiting hand, his glare sending the man skittering away.

“Thank you,” you say to Azriel, struggling to clasp the bracelet around your wrist. Azriel gestures for you to let him help, and you do, watching the subtle furrow of his brow as he fastens the hook. “But why did you give him ten coins? He said five…”

“I didn’t,” Azriel lies smoothly for the second time this morning, and when your eyes narrow in suspicion, he simply smiles and tilts his head toward the right. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the art gallery if we want to make it to the water fountain show in time?”

That gets you going.

Your hold on his hand tightens as you lead the way to the art gallery. There, you’re captivated by the various amounts of artwork from Day, one of them being a very detailed and very naked sculpture of Helion. Azriel can’t help but remind you of the beauty of Feyre’s paintings, tugging you along, using the water fountain show as an excuse to get you to leave quicker. 

Afterwards, you visit a bookstore and many other stores, discovering that the bracelet on your wrist was not one-of-a-kind. They are available in various stores, each offering different variations. Instead of feeling disappointed, you find one specially for Azriel. Its chain is silver, adorned with a glimmering moon made from moonstone, a perfect complement to your amber sun.

By the time you both return to the palace, the sky is painted with hues of twilight, signaling it’s almost dinner time. 

“Thank you for helping me carry all my stuff,” you say with a sheepish grin, glancing at the bags scattered on your floor, most of them filled with gifts for Cassian, Mor, and Amren since they couldn’t come along.

“Of course,” Azriel replies with a soft smile, his eyes warm. He had refused to let you lift a finger.

Standing on your tip-toes, you aim to kiss his cheek but underestimate the height difference, your lips landing on his jaw instead. The touch has the same effect. Azriel blushes, his wings twitching slightly, and his shadows snicker behind him. He hopes you can't hear them.

“Are you sure–” he clears his throat “–are you sure you don’t need help packing them up too?”

Your eyes light up and then you’re pulling him into your room. Unfortunately, no more kisses came from that. However, the shared smiles and easy conversation made it all worth it.

Be patient, he reminds himself. But he can't help but think of the golden threads unraveling in his chest, giving them an experimental tug. There’s no response, yet he hopes that yours will entwine with his any day now, binding you together forever.

**

As the golden, morning light of the Day Court bathes the grand hall, Azriel waits for you to enter the place where you'd have breakfast together. When he hears your approaching footsteps, he turns.

Suddenly, he finds himself unable to think. Unable to breathe, even.  

 You were beautiful. He was well aware of this, always has been. But today, you were absolutely stunning, like a goddess descended from the heavens. 

The dress you wore was different from your usual Night court dresses and though it screamed Day court fashion, Azriel couldn’t bring himself to care. The delicate ivory, flowing fabric draped elegantly over your body. His eyes trace every detail of the dress, from the plunging neckline to the high slits that reveal the soft and inviting skin of your legs. There’s a tightness in his throat when he catches a glimpse of the gold garter adorning your thigh.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a smile, a hint of shyness in your eyes despite the boldness of the dress.

"Morning," he barely manages to say.

“Good morning indeed,” Helion purrs as he appears behind you, Rhysand at his side.

Azriel, captivated by your beauty, barely registered the expression on Helion's face. Meanwhile, his shadows moved with a protective instinct, delicately brushing against your legs as if to shield you from Helion's lingering gaze. 

As you approach him, Azriel's heart continues to hammer against his chest. He musters up a smile. Though small, it’s full of admiration and awe. 

Helion chuckles. “My oh my, Rhysand. I did not know your Shadowsinger was capable of smiling.”

Rhysand lets out an amused exhale. His tone is light but it carries a subtle warning. “He’s capable of many things, including patience.”

A muscle feathers in Azriel’s jaw as he falls into step with you. He doesn’t notice the small frown that takes over your features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, voice sweet despite the slightly sour expression on his face.

You shake your head in protest. “You look all hot and bothered.”

Azriel chokes on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“You’re already sweating,” you explain to him, reaching up with your free hand to brush his dark curls away from his forehead. His wings flutter in response to the surprise touch. “And it’s barely morning. Come on, you’re not wearing those leathers today. I’m sure Helion left some clothes for you too.”

Azriel heats up at the mention of Helion’s name, his mind briefly flickering to the thought of the High Lord leaving such a dress for you. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it further as you tug him back toward the room he’s staying in, mumbling about how Azriel has a death wish for wearing such thick clothing in the Day Court.

But it’s the High Lord of the Day Court who has a death wish, Azriel thinks.

“We won’t be long!” You call over your shoulder to Rhysand and Helion, who both give a dismissive wave.

Helion shakes his head in amusement. “Are they always like this?”

Rhysand lets out a snort. “Unfortunately.”

“Come. Let us have a drink. I believe we’re in very much need of one.”

“This early in the morning?”

“My friend, have you not had orange juice and champagne? Such a lovely, delightful combination. I call it a mimosa…”

**

Back in Azriel's room, you rummage through the clothes Helion had left for him. His eyes soften as you continue to fuss over him. Though he complains about it, he secretly loves when you fuss over him. He has to peel his gaze away from you when you bend down to pick up a top, his thoughts threatening to drift elsewhere if he doesn't.

Hot. Bothered. His shadows repeat your words from earlier to him and he eyes them with a glare.

Despite Helion’s wish for Azriel to wear a toga like he proudly does, Azriel is relieved at what you picked out for him. He’s also touched that you know him well enough to pick something close to his taste.  “Here,” you say, holding up a pair of loose fitting dark trousers and a sheen, flowy white top with a deep v neck similar to the one of your dress. “This will be perfect for today.”

“Fine,” Azriel murmurs, reluctantly taking the garments from you. Your fingers brush against his, sending a spark through him.

“I trust you can dress yourself from here,” you tease, giving him a playful pat on his shoulder.

Azriel lets out a scoff, resisting the urge to reply with a roguish remark. He quickly changes into the clothes you picked out for him, not wanting to cut into your breakfast time any more than necessary. Today is a busy day for you, as you will spend most of it in the library, researching all about the death gods for an assignment Rhysand gave you.

When he steps out of the room, your eyes light up as they look over his body. His muscles flex instinctively when your gaze lingers on the tattoos swirling on his chest. You blink, and with a smile say, “Radiant.”

Azriel feels the blood rush to his neck. He’s received many compliments before but never something as bright as “radiant.”  He suddenly yearns to hear more–only if they come from your pretty lips.

“Y/n, have I ever told you how much I—” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity, and he loses his resolve, Rhysand’s warning echoing in his head. “—appreciate you…”

Those were not the words Azriel had intended, and he lets out a defeated breath. Yet, your smile does not falter. Instead, you hook your arm through his, beaming up at him as you guide him through the halls.

“I believe you have but please, enlighten me again…”

**

Helion’s gaze fixes on you and Azriel as you finally joined them for breakfast. Dressed in resplendent Day Court fashion, the two of you look ravishing, and Helion cannot decide who is more captivating–you or the stoic shadowsinger at your side. 

His affections have always met a brick wall with the Illyrian male. So naturally, when another pretty face shows up at his court, he focuses all his attention on you. He savors your sweet reactions and Azriel’s jealous ones, sensing more between you two. He’s determined to unravel it.

After breakfast, Helion sidles up beside you, flashing a charming smile. “Allow me to admire you more closely, Lady Y/n,” he says, his voice smooth and rich as he extends his hand.

Azriel’s jaw clenches, his shadows swirling restlessly when you take Helion’s hand. Helion’s smile widens, and then he gestures for you to spin. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

You gasp, eyes widening in delight and cheeks tinting with a delicate blush. “You know Shakespeare?”

“Know it? I live it.” Helion responds. “I have his original copies in my personal library. You can come take a look, if you’d like. Just give me a day to…organize things.”

Azriel’s eyes narrow, not liking the intonation in the High Lord’s voice. Helion can feel that primal instinct–the possessiveness Azriel feels for you–simmering beneath the surface. His eyes widen slightly in acknowledgement and then he’s turning to Rhysand.

"Helion,” Rhysand drawls, confirming his suspicions. “As y/n’s escort, you're making Azriel's shadows rather restless.”

Helion laughs, a rich, melodious sound that fills the room. "I can't help it if your historian is so captivating, Rhysand," he says, winking at you and delighting in the response it shakes from Azriel.

**

Azriel falls into step behind you as Helion guides you all toward the magnificent library of the Day Court. Sunlight streams through towering windows, casting rainbows across the marble floors. You had praised it as the biggest and most beautiful library in all of Prythian. As Azriel stands in front of the entrance, he reluctantly acknowledges that none of the libraries in the Night Court could come close if this is just how the entrance looks.

As Azriel moves to step inside with you, Rhysand stops him.

"What are you doing?" Azriel huffs, peering over Rhysand's shoulder to catch a glimpse of the awed expression on your face as Helion talks to you. "I'm Y/n's escort, remember?"

“There’s no need for one in the library. You’ll only be a distraction here.” Rhysand replies and sensing his apprehension, he adds. “She’ll be safe here. I promise.”

“But–”

“No,” Rhysand interrupts and Azriel’s gaze hardens. A playful glint dances in Rhysand’s violet eyes. “Go take a walk, a cold shower or perhaps, read up on some poetry.”

 With that, Rhysand enters the library, motioning for the guards to shut the door. As the door closes, a single dark tendril manages to slide through. 

I don’t resort to poetry, Azriel thinks bitterly and he swears he hears Rhysand’s chuckle in his mind.

**

That night, during dinner, Helion took all your attention as the two of you quoted and mused over poetry, Rhysand chiming in occasionally. Azriel remained silent, a muscle ticking at his jaw.

The following morning, Azriel didn’t get a chance to speak to you much either. You and Rhysand were deep in discussion, strategizing how to tackle the vast array of books about the old gods. Azriel hadn’t even finished his coffee when you abruptly stood from your seat, mouth still full of food, and hurried off towards the library. The golden threads buried deep in his chest stirred with your passion.

So while you spent your day in the library, engrossed in your research, Azriel decided to spend his day doing his own research. He had his shadows sneak into your room and retrieve one of the poetry books he is certain you bought with you. You read one every night before bed.

Azriel reads some of the poems, engraving the words into his memory, just in case. He ends up falling asleep in his room, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. His shadows stir him awake, hours later, pointing to the clock hanging across from him. It’s almost dinner time so Azriel freshens up and then makes his way toward the library. 

“Hey, you,” you greet Azriel happily, two of his shadows trailing behind you, as you step out of the library. The second one had joined you this morning as the first one had been feeling lonely. “I think they like me better than you.”

“Keep them,” Azriel shrugs. When you're not looking, he gives them a knowing nod, though his voice feigns annoyance. “Traitors.”

“What did you do today?” You ask, falling into step beside him as you two walk toward the dining hall. “Anything interesting?”

“I learned something.”

“Yeah?”

Azriel turns to you, his expression serious as he clears his throat. "She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright... uh, meet in her something…eyes…?"

You blink at him, confusion furrowing your brow. "Something eyes?"

Before Azriel can explain, Helion chimes in, that cheeky grin plastered on his face. "It's 'Meet in her aspect and her eyes,’" he corrects smoothly, his eyes twinkling with amusement, as he beckons for you to take your seats.

Azriel shoots a glare at Helion and Rhysand kicks him under the table in warning. Helion chuckles, unfazed by the death stare coming from Azriel as he continues. 

“She walks in beauty, like the night. Of Cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

“Oh, Lord Byron!” you say in recognition, turning to Azriel with a look that soothes his embarrassment. “She Walks in Beauty. What a lovely poem. Did you know it was one of my favorites?”

“I didn’t,” Azriel replies casually, though inwardly his heart races and his shadows race to cover the blush delicately tinting his neck. Of course he knew it was your favorite. You had scribbled hearts all over the page in your book. “I just liked it and thought I’d share it with you.”

Your smile widens, touched by his gesture. “I thought you didn’t fancy poetry, Az.”

“I thought the same,” Rhysand says, eyes narrowing at Azriel.

"I'm full of surprises," Azriel says dryly, meeting Rhysand's gaze evenly.

“Well, let’s hope it’s the last of your surprises.”

“I believe I also have some of Lord Byron’s works. How about I finally show you my personal library after dinner?” Helion speaks, directing all attention back to him.

Azriel opens his mouth to protest, not liking the inviting gaze in the High Lord’s eyes, but Helion interjects smoothly. “No worries, escort, ” Helion says, his grin widening. “I’ll take good care of y/n.”

Azriel sulks, a bitter taste in his mouth from Helion’s effortless charm throughout dinner. He tries his best to keep you from leaving, insisting you try every single dessert laid out on the table. Barely halfway through, you slump back in your chair, claiming you can’t eat another bite without bursting.

His ears perk up and he sends a small prayer to the Mother that your full stomach dissuades you from visiting Helion’s personal library, his own stomach not being able to handle the thought. Tonight, it seems The Mother does not favor him. When Helion offers you his arm, you take it excitedly, oblivious to the sulking Shadowsinger you left behind. 

Rhysand laughs, finding amusement in the entire situation, while Azriel shoots him a cold stare. If Rhysand hadn’t ordered Azriel to keep the truth of the bond from you until after your trip here, you wouldn't be alone with Helion now. 

Yet, Azriel can't help but bitterly reflect that if he had only been upfront about his feelings from the start, he wouldn’t be tormented by such longing now, the bond in his chest roaring at the thought of you with another male.

“I think y/n is more than capable of handling a flirtatious High Lord.”

Azriel’s lips twitch into a brief, reluctant smile. “She is. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Cheer up, Az,” Rhysand teases, lifting his glass in a mock-toast to his friend. “There’s always more poetry to practice. Or perhaps, you should stick to brooding. You’re much better at that.”

“Pass the whiskey,” Azriel replies tersely, his lips pressing into a tight line.

“Patience is a virtue, Az.”

“So is silence.”

**

You’re swooning, over the moon, after exploring Helion’s personal library. He showed you his special editions of Lord Byron’s and Shakespeare’s works, allowing you to take one back to your room with you to read. You clutch the book to your chest, humming softly to yourself.

When you reach the hallway, you linger there for a moment, sparing a glance toward Azriel’s room. The night is still young and you’re surprised to see no light seeping through the door. Has he gone to bed already? Worry knits your brows as you wonder if he’s okay. He has been acting strange since he arrived. He had quoted poetry at you for Cauldron’s sake!

You walk toward his door and knock. There’s no answer so you knock again. “Az?”

You frown when you’re met with silence and your hands itch to open the door but you hesitate. He could either be asleep, out flying or out training. He had been eyeing the training grounds of Day during Helion’s tour.

With a sigh, you step into your room and decide to get ready for bed, making a mental note to check up on him in the morning. The day had been long and filled with unexpected twists and tomorrow would only bring another long day. Your eyes were tired from reading so much fine print.

As you're fluffing your pillows, you hear the sound of heavy, booted footsteps. Your mind wanders to Azriel but it can’t be. His steps were always quiet, silenced by his shadows. There’s a pause in the steps and a brief moment of stillness.

Abruptly, your door swings open and you let out a small gasp.

You watch as Azriel stumbles in, your heart flying to your chest in relief. His usually graceful steps falter as if the weight of his massive wings is too much to bear. Shadows cling to his wrists, doing their best to keep their master steady.

A look of pleasant surprise softens his features when he spots you, his hazel eyes widening at the sight of you in your nightgown. He brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing it in an attempt to make the flush spreading across his cheeks go away.

“Y/n,” he hiccups with a pleased grin. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, stifling a laugh at his adorable state. “This is my room.”

Azriel’s expression morphs, his eyebrows furrowing and a slight pout forming on his lips. “Didn’t get to spend the day with you,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he sways slightly. “Or night… you spent it with Helion instead.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you jealous, Az?”

Another hiccup. “Maybe.”

Your stomach flutters at the way he admits it so openly. The two of you have always had a playful, flirty dynamic. It had never gone beyond exchanged glances and lingering touches, though. Azriel never let it, and a part of you feared it was because he was too kind to reject you outright. Now, you begin to wonder if you had misinterpreted the situation all along.

“Well, it’s still night,” you tell him, “And you’re here with me now.”

“I am,” Azriel acknowledges with a hint of surprise, as if realizing it anew. “And I know poetry too…”

 He straightens up, attempting to appear serious again despite the slight slur in his words. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height... uh, something about sight, I think?”

Did he somehow know this was another of your favorites? It seems unlikely. In all the years you've known him, Azriel has never shown interest in poetry. Or at least up until two hours ago. You should check his forehead. What if he was coming down with something?

Instead, you clear your throat and help him out.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee–” your voice wavers at the look Azriel gives you, his hazel eyes shining with an emotion that threatens to weaken your knees. “–to the level of every day’s. Most quiet need, by sun and candle light…”

“I love thee too,” Azriel breathes, holding your gaze and stepping closer to you. “Freely–purely…no, freely as men strive for fight.”

“Right,” you correct with a laugh. “Freely as men strive for right.”

Azriel’s pout deepens, yet there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Don’t laugh at me,” he mumbles.

He continues to make his way toward you and you hold out your arms, worried he’ll lose his battle with balance. He ends up slumping face-first onto your bed, his wings splaying out behind him. “Can I stay here? Just for a little bit. I missed you all day.”

“Yeah,” you reply with a soft smile. You missed him too. “But can you make room for me on my bed?”

“Mmm,” Azriel hums, turning on his side. He pats at the space right in front of him, his shadows moving to rest behind him to give you space. “Come here, my pretty historian.”

You feel a rush of warmth course through you, momentarily flustered by the nickname. Looking at Azriel, you hesitate. It wouldn’t be the first time you two shared a bed but it’d be the first time you’d share one in a bed not meant to accommodate for Illyrian wings. 

Maybe, it’s best if you help him to his room. Your eyes look toward his shadows and you notice them slowly curling around his back as if going to sleep themselves. They would be no help and neither would Rhys as you were sure he was sharing his night with a pretty fae or two. And you would definitely not be able to carry Azriel back to his room on your own.

So when Azriel pats the bed again, you join him. He frowns when you don’t nestle against him as he wished. Instead, you slip under the covers, resting on your side to face him fully. He adjusts to mirror your position, close enough that you feel his warm breath, noses and hands brushing against each other.

“You smell good,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “Marry me?”

You smile, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Is that all it takes to marry you? To smell good?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter close, a contented sigh escaping him. “I’d marry you, even if you didn’t smell good,” he says, his words mumbled but filled with affection.

Your heart swells and you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, feeling exhaustion come over you when Azriel yawns. 

“Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he murmurs, already drifting off to sleep, a peaceful smile on his face. “My sweet, pretty ma–”

A shadow, one of the ones that have taken a liking to you, crawls over you and rushes to Azriel, curling around his mouth to silence him. You are too tired to think about it, simply letting sleep claim you in each other’s comforting presence.

**

Azriel wakes up with a soft groan, still enveloped by your scent. His shadows stir as he does and he hesitates opening his eyes, not ready to face the aftermath of his drunken state. The impending headache is already breaking the surface. When he opens his eyes, he finds you missing. His worry is eased when one of his shadows brings a small piece of paper to him.

He shifts, moving into a sitting position. One hand rubs at his head while the other takes the note you left for him. 

To my star breaking poet, you looked too peaceful to wake. I left some water, tea and bread on the nightstand. Enjoy.

-your pretty historian

His lips tug up into a smile. He turns his head, finding the drinks and food you left for him. He doesn’t dare touch them though, despite the bond in his chest yearning for him to. He then searches for the clock in your room and his eyes widen. It’s past noon. Azriel has never slept this late or felt so rested, especially after a night of heavy drinking. 

Taking a deep breath, he allows himself to fall back onto the bed, running his hands through his hair and pulling on it. He lingers there a moment longer before finally rising and heading to his room to bathe and get ready for the day. Knowing you'll be in the library all day, he wonders what to do with himself, having given up on poetry after his unsuccessful attempts.

**

Azriel makes himself busy by wandering the palace, feeling a bit uneasy walking so freely in the open. He’s so accustomed to blending into the shadows that this exposure feels unnatural. His shadows cling to him, hiding beneath his cloak, equally uncomfortable with the brightness. The day is cooler, so he’s donned his leathers, a small part of him hoping you'll fuss over him again when you see him.

He visits the markets, but they seem less vibrant without you by his side. He then goes to the training grounds of Day, catching up with his missed training and releasing his pent up frustrations with a training dummy. Upon returning to the palace and washing up, he heads towards the library. Though he can’t enter, he knows there are small tables and padded chairs just outside. He found you there during one of your breaks yesterday, so he sits at one of the tables, hoping you'll come again.

A newspaper rests on the table before him, so he picks it up to pass the time. After reading through it twice, he moves to a different table with a chess set, his shadows engaging him in a game. After losing to them three times, he leans back with a sigh. He really should’ve brought some of his unfinished reports to work on.

Overcome with the bond, he had followed you without hesitation, not anticipating that Rhysand would keep him from telling you about it. He didn't have a plan, so while he wasn't happy about it, at least it gave him time to come up with one. The minute you’d go back to Night, Azriel was set on visiting your favorite restaurant and making reservations. He’d surprise you with a day full of your favorites, ending it with his confession, where he hoped you would accept him. 

It was one thing to love him back. Another to accept him as your mate.

Before he knows it, the sun begins to set, his shadows buzzing with life as darkness takes over. You still haven’t stepped out of the library. He wonders if you've eaten or had enough water. One of his shadows slips out from underneath the library doors and flutters back to him. It reports that the other shadow, still with you, helped you reach for books and turn pages. It had even wanted to brush your hair back when it fell loose from your tie but was met with an invisible force. High Lord, the shadow hissed and he realizes Rhysand knew him better than he thought. That unwanted chaperone…

When he learns you've skipped lunch, his worry deepens. He paces back and forth in front of the grand doors, his heart aching with the intensity of the bond. Every instinct within him urges him to protect and care for you. Unable to hold back any longer, he takes advantage of the darkening sky and slips into the library.

The shadow that had reported to him leads the way, darting ahead. His other shadows eagerly rush forward, reaching you before he does. They greet the lone shadow that had stayed by your side like long-lost friends reuniting.

Azriel’s heart calms when he finds you asleep, slumped over a desk and surrounded by a mountain of books. You're curled into yourself, goosebumps forming on the exposed skin of your arms. He gently removes his cloak from his leathers and drapes it over you.

You instinctively snuggle deeper into the cloak, half asleep. “Smells s’good,” you murmur, and the bond in his chest tightens.

He gently removes your glasses, the ones you wear when doing prolonged near work, and places them carefully into one of his pockets. There’s a faint glimmer surrounding you and he’s relieved that whatever barrier Rhyand had placed upon you was weakening by the second. Almost like clockwork. He easily breaks through the magic shield, blue siphons gleaming. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his shadows sighing in response.

His touch lingers on your face, thumb ghosting over your cheek.  “It’s time for dinner.”

You let out a groan in protest, not wanting to move from your spot.

“You need to eat, Y/n,” he whispers softly. “And then, you can go to bed.”

You blink sleepily at him. “Will you carry me?”

“Of course.”

As he lifts you into his arms, your warmth and the scent of your hair envelop him, the bond in his chest thrumming with joy, his shadows harmonizing in response.

Three more days, he reminds himself. Three more days until he can finally speak of the feelings swelling in his heart. Be patient…

**

After another day of researching death gods, your mind feels heavy with overwhelming knowledge. Exhausted, you keep to yourself during dinner. You can feel Azriel’s worry, can feel the way the shadows that linger in your presence caress the back of your neck in an attempt to ease you. Rhysand slips into your mind and after assuring him you were just tired and had a headache, he lets you excuse yourself. Helion, ever the caring and doting High Lord, sends you off to bed with a tea to soothe your headache.

You’re quick to wash up and change into your nightgown, slipping under the warm covers with the tea Helion gave you in hand. It has a rich floral scent and as you take your first sip, it brings instant relief to the dull ache in your head. When you’re done, you place the empty cup onto your nightstand and lay down, closing your eyes.

You find yourself trapped in a dark, oppressive forest. 

The trees are twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. In the distance, you hear the sinister laugh of Koschei, the death god who you've learned loves to trap women. His voice is a chilling whisper, echoing through the trees, “You cannot escape me.”

Suddenly, the scene shifts, and you’re back in the Court of Nightmares, having to suffer through another court affair. Your hair is pulled so tight into a bun and the corset of your dress barely gives any room to breathe properly. The oppressive atmosphere presses down on you, taking even more of your breath away. You’re standing before your father, his eyes cold and unyielding.

“You will marry Lord Berbrooke.”

“No,” you whisper, eyes widening in fear as Lord Berbrooke appears at your father’s side. Your hands reach for your father’s arms, a desperate attempt to stay with him instead of leaving. You’d much rather continue to endure a life of neglect and solitude than a life that promised violence and bruises.

“Grandfather wouldn’t want this.”

Your father yanks his arm out of your grip, staring you down with a glare. “Your grandfather is dead. It does not matter what he wants.”

Fear grips you as Lord Berbrooke steps closer, a predatory smile on his face. You try to run, but your feet are rooted to the spot. He laughs, the sound chilling you to the bone. It morphs into the sinister laugh from earlier. Lord Berbrooke’s face flickers and shifts, morphing between his own and what your mind imagines of Koschei.

Panic surges through you, and you cry out for help, but your voice is swallowed by the darkness.

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing and breaths coming in ragged gasps. Goosebumps prick your skin as the sinister laugh echoes in your mind, refusing to fade. Panic grips you, and without a second thought, you throw off the covers and rush out of your room, desperate to escape the haunting sound that seems to follow you.

**

Something deep in his chest stirs, flooding him with unease. The bond. Something is wrong. Azriel’s head instinctively turns to his door, shadows sensing your presence in the hallway. Though small and quiet, he can hear your pacing and sense your hesitation as you face his door.

Azriel rushes to the door immediately and opens it. Concern etches on his face as he takes in your trembling form, the way your hands are covering your ears and eyes stricken with pure fear.

His hands reach for yours, gently removing them from your ears. Your eyes remain frantic, scanning over him, as if trying to discern if he is real or not. Without another word, Azriel pulls you into his arms, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, and you cling to him.

“I had a nightmare,” you whisper, pulling back slightly and looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “About Koschei, and then I was back in the Court of Nightmares. My father… Lord Berbrooke…”

Azriel’s eyes darken with anger and protectiveness. You don’t need to say any more for him to understand. “You’re safe now,” he says firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His words and the strength of his embrace begin to calm the storm inside you. You bury your face in his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Can I stay with you?”

“Always.” Azriel answers and then he’s guiding you into his room.

He helps you to his bed, tucking you under the covers before carefully settling on the other side. You nestle closer into his chest, your head finding its place against his heart again. His chin rests atop your head and neither of you speak for a while.

“Thank you,” you breathe, voice heavy with emotion.

Azriel knows your thankfulness extends beyond tonight. He had been the one to save you from that dreadful fate that night in the Court of Nightmares. He had been the one to bring to Rhysand’s attention of your grandfather’s forged will, helping you search for the real one. And when Rhysand had moved you to Velaris, Azriel had been your first friend.

“Do you feel better or would you like me to make you–”

“I feel better,” you interrupt, not wanting him to leave, even if it's to make you another tea. “Just your presence is enough,” you confess quietly. “You have a way of making me feel safe and at peace, Az.”

At those words, Azriel feels like he might burst with emotion. He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.  If only you knew…

**

As you walk through the library of the Day Court, you take one last look around, letting your gaze sweep over the grand space. The high, arched windows allow streams of the setting sun to filter in, casting a warm glow on the polished marble floors. There are rows upon rows of intricately carved wooden shelves and books of every size and color line them, their spines creating a mosaic of knowledge and history. The scent of parchment and old leather, is one you’ll always hold dear.

Tonight is your last night here. A trail of shadows follows you, blending into the shafts of the light and shadows cast by the towering bookshelves. Rhysand, lounging in the entrance of the library, notices the once unusual sight that has now become routine.. 

“What are you, a Shadowsinger now?” he quips.

You glance back, catching a glimpse of Azriel’s shadows entwined with your own. They’ve become increasingly protective of you lately, always trailing close, whether you're heading to the library or simply going about your day. What you hadn’t noticed until now was how their numbers had grown since last night.

“I’ve never seen his shadows act like that,” Rhysand comments.

“Oh really?” 

Rhysand nods, a glint dancing in his eyes. He gives a small wave to one of the tendrils peeking over your shoulder, lips curving upwards when it cowers away.  “They usually stick to him, rarely leaving his side. It seems you’ve captured their interest as you’ve captured their master’s.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his implication. “I guess they like me,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rhysand’s grin turns knowing. “It’s more than that, Y/n. Azriel’s shadows are an extension of his will. They’re drawn to what he cares about most.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I suppose I should thank them for showing me such care.”

Rhysand chuckles. “Or thank Azriel.”

**

Rhysand’s words linger with you throughout the evening, much like Azriel’s shadows. A spark of hope blooms in your chest, daring to blossom into something more. You knew Azriel cared for you, but caring for others was in his nature. That’s who he was—caring and protective.

You glance at the shadows caressing your arms, a pensive frown tugging at your lips. In all the years you’ve known him, you had never seen his shadows linger on Rhysand or Cassian. Or Mor, who you were so sure held the Shadowsinger’s affections. 

You recall the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the rare smiles he reserved only for you, the protective glances he shot your way whenever danger was near. Your heart races as the pieces start to fit together, a mixture of shock and elation coursing through your veins. Dare you hope that the man you had loved in secret for so long might feel the same?

The idea seems almost too good to be true, and yet…his shadows were here, with you, wrapped around your fingers. Quite literally. 

You look down at the shadows twining with your fingers, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time, you allow yourself to entertain the possibility. 

With this newfound hope, you head toward the Day Court’s kitchen. 

After praising the chef one night, he invited you to his kitchen, offering to teach you how to prepare some of the Day Court’s delicacies. Eager to express your gratitude to Azriel for always being there for you and to Helion for being a gracious host, you decide to finally take up on the chef’s offer. Perhaps, you can even sneak in some of Azriel’s favorites into tonight’s menu.

**

As it was the last night of your stay, Helion had invited close friends and other allies of his court, filling the grand dining hall with laughter and conversation. You quietly took your seat across from Rhysand and beside Azriel, murmuring a soft greeting. Helion winks at you and the shadow around your arm tenses.

The High Lord of Day stands from his seat, at the head of the table. He raises his glass with a broad grin. “A toast to the Night Court, our cherished guests. It has been an honor to host you all, and I sincerely hope we may have the pleasure of your return soon.”

Everyone at the table raises their glasses, including Azriel—though only after a nudge from you. His expression remains flat and dry as he lifts his glass. You clink yours against his with a teasing glint in your eyes, coaxing a small smile from his lips.

Helion takes a seat and with a wave of his hand, tonight’s feast materializes in front of you. There’s a slight raise in Rhysand’s brow, betraying his mild surprise. Every single platter–from the appetizers to dessert seems to be a perfect blend of Day and Night delicacies with the names to match. There’s the bruschetta, the bread slices topped with sun-ripened tomatoes, fresh basil and a hint of night garlic. Then, there’s the spinach artichoke dip made from sun-infused spinach, blended with moon-cheese and served with nightshade vegetables.

Rhysand looks up, turning to Helion. “Compliments to the chef.”

Helion’s eyes twinkle with delight as he meets your gaze.  “And y/n,” he says. “She collaborated with the chef to create tonight’s dinner.”

You smile, a touch of pride warming your cheeks as you look around the table. However, the smile quickly fades when you hear a sudden spluttering. It’s Azriel. He spit his food out, his face a mask of horror and conflict. 

“Azriel?” you ask in concern.

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters, his voice suddenly tight.

Your face flushes and a nervous laugh escapes you.  “Relax, it’s not poison,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. But your attempt falls flat. 

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats more forcefully, then turns and leaves the room, his movements stiff and tense.

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears, the hurt and confusion overwhelming you. You slump back into your chair. “I don’t think I’m hungry either,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Rhysand nudges your foot from under the table. “Don’t mind him,” he says softly, violet eyes filled with sympathy. “Please, eat. You’ve worked so hard on this.”

You nod, trying to muster the strength to lift your fork, but the sting of Azriel’s rejection is too much. You push the food around your plate, your appetite completely gone. The evening that had started with such promise now feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by whatever tension has now befallen between you and Azriel. 

In the corridor outside the dining hall, Azriel leans against the wall, his heart pounding. He knows he’s hurt you, but the thought of unintentionally accepting the bond is too much for him to bear. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of the fragile line he’s been walking.

One more night, he reminds himself. One more night and then he can tell you everything.

He can only hope you don’t already hate him for tonight.

**

Tossing and turning, you let out a long breath as you stare up at the ceiling. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you hadn’t indulged in the dinner you had put so much effort into crafting. How could you, when the one person you made it for refused to have even a bite? 

His reaction had been as clear as day. Repulsed.

Now, doubts flood your mind. What if you've completely misread everything? The shadows beside you, initially a source of comfort, were beginning to stir unsettling thoughts in you. Maybe Azriel sent them not because he cared so deeply for you but out of obligation and pity?

You're not a High Lord like Rhysand, nor a warrior like Cassian or Mor who fought in the war. You’re just a noblewoman from the Court of Nightmares who fled from a forced marriage. How typical and utterly helpless. That’s what you’ve been since you met Azriel.  It shouldn’t have shocked you that he followed you into Day Court. 

Any hope that had blossomed in your heart now withers. You were a fool to even entertain the thought. You’ve known Azriel for almost a century and in those years, he’s never hinted at seeing you as anything more than a friend so why would it change now?

Throwing off the covers, you sit up abruptly, gaze flickering towards the door. The urge to confront him grips you fiercely. He did not have to return your feelings but he didn’t have to hurt your feelings so harshly by spitting out your food. You had to settle whatever this was now, even if it left you broken-hearted. 

Without bothering to change out of your nightwear, you leap from your bed. The shadows on your bed stir awake and your footsteps quicken, fearing his shadows would reach him before you could.

They beat you to it, even going as far as opening the door for you, allowing you to barge into his room. You’re not surprised to see Azriel wide awake. His shadows must’ve warned him beforehand. He sits on his bed, already facing you and you hate the way your gaze falls to his bare chest. Your eyes trail up the intricate tattoos etched there, slowly making your way up.

The words catch in your throat. You’re nervous. A foreign feeling around Azriel. It makes you want nothing more than to turn and run out the door. His shadows shut the door behind you as if sensing your thoughts.

You refuse to meet his eyes, fearing what you’d find in those hazel depths. “You hate me don’t you?”

The words tumble out unexpectedly, sending a chilling shiver through you. His gaze flickers downward, catching the way you nervously fidget with your fingers, before lifting with intent and searching for your eyes. 

“What?”

The sound that leaves Azriel borders on what sounds like amusement, and you cringe, turning your head away. Tears prick your eyes, his shadows rushing to wipe them away gently, coaxing your gaze back to their master. When his eyes meet yours, all you see is concern. 

A strange sensation creeps along your ribcage as he stands from the bed, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel states firmly and when his words don’t soothe you as he expected they would, he frowns. His hands replace the shadows brushing against your face. “What makes you think that? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that question,” you laugh humorlessly, casting your gaze down. “Something has gotten into you. You’ve been acting so differently, and at first, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought as I seem to be wrong every time–”

“It does matter. Tell me.” 

It’s now or never. Your throat tightens as you muster the courage—the last bit you have, having used most of it to barge into his room. 

“We’ve been walking a fine line, you and I. For decades. Almost a century... And now, I realize you’ve simply been too kind to reject me. I’m sorry if running to you after that nightmare was too much, but did you have to spit out my food? I would’ve preferred if you’d just told me you didn't like me instead of showing me.”

“You’re not making any sense right now.” Azriel says.

“Neither are you.” You shoot back.

“I don’t hate you,” Azriel repeats, hurt flashing across his face at the thought of making you feel that way.

“You spit out my food in front of everyone, Az.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

You feel Azriel’s hand tense against your face. “I can’t say.”

Your breath hitches, and you take a couple of steps back, removing his hands from you. “Because you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes shut tightly for a moment, his head turning toward the window. He feels the faint warmth of the rising sun and inhales deeply. There’s something burning bright in his eyes when he looks at you again.

“Because you are my mate.”

Mate. A vulnerable shakiness accompanies the word. The words hang in the air, heavy and shocking. The feeling teasing at your ribcage begins to crawl upwards. Your heart skips a beat as it meets your chest, awakening something deep inside you that you hadn’t realized you had. Mate.

“I’m your what?” You gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as the golden threads of fate begin to unravel.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” Azriel approaches slowly, his expression tense and cautious. “You’re my mate. The bond snapped as you were winnowing away. That’s why I followed after you. I wanted to tell you, but Rhysand asked me not to. At least not until we were done here.”

Your racing heart sinks into your stomach. More tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision.  “So you don’t want me as your mate either…”

“No,” Azriel’s eyebrows knit together so hard you worry they’ll stick, shadows swirling around him like storm clouds. His hand reaches out for you but you take a step back.  “I’m happy it’s you. Relieved. I’ve loved you for so long...”

Your tears fall freely and he takes another deep breath, wings shuddering along with the timber of his voice. “Gods, do you know how agonizing these past days have been for me? Watching you fall in love with this court, with—” He hesitates, unable to say his name “—it’s High Lord.”

His words ignite a spark within you, fanning the hope that had begun to take root in your chest.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fall in love with this court," you begin and Azriel gives a subtle wince, looking away from you. "But Day is not my home."

Slowly, Azriel looks back at you, and a torrent of emotions floods over you. You're uncertain if they are yours or his, as the bond between you surges like a turbulent river.

“The Night Court is. That’s where my family is. That’s where you are. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not even Prythian’s best library.”

Azriel’s eyes soften and when he takes a step forward, you don’t step back. A glimmer of hope lights up his features.  “And what of it’s High Lord?”

“He’s nice but he’s not you.” You say with a soft smile. “I love you and only you.”

Azriel cups your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours. The smile that breaks out on his rivals the brilliance of the rising run behind him. “I’ve admired you, desired you for so long…I just didn’t want to rush you and when the bond snapped, I feared it’d overwhelm you."

You look up at him, the raw honesty in his eyes reflecting your own emotions. “So, what now?”

Azriel brushes the last tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent. “Be mine?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Always.”

And then you kiss him, the bond between you shimmering and glittering. A tangible, golden connection intensifying with every heartbeat.

a/n: I don't like the way I ended this 😭 not my best tbh, I just feel like it was missing something. I honestly wasn't expecting the high demand for a part two to Be Safe so I hope you enjoyed some of this as much as the first part. Anyway, here's a little meme I had made for this fic while I was procrastinating on finishing it.

here's a bonus scene.

tag list (tagged all those who commented and reblogged with tags, in case you wanted to read more. sorry if I missed some!): @jswizzlewrites , @hellodarling1357, @fxckmiup, @pricklepearbloom,

@tothestarsandwhateverend, @mika-no-sekai-blog, @cherryjain17, @illyrian-dreamer,

@darlingbravebelle, @katherinejess, @lady-of-tearshed, @daisesarelove, @beardburnsupersoldiers

@assriels, @sunshinepeachx, @buckyandgeraltsupremacy

@brieflyclassymortal, @thesunloveschips, @silver-flames-47, @ladybirdbeetle7, @everythingacotarbxm1012

@starlitlakes, @mxtantrights, @itsallacotar, @mother-above, @andreperez11

@coolepowersthings, @littlebookbengal, @lipstickmarks, @aneekapaneeka, @harrypottergirl162

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

@the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human

[stellanix]

starlink pisses me off

the issue of its impact on astronomy and light pollution has been discussed a lot, and is a very real issue (i've noticed up to 10% of the frames i take while doing astrophotography being rendered unusable by starlink trails), but there's an even bigger issue

not only does starlink constitute the majority of active satellites in orbit, with over 6,000 already up and potentially over 30,000 planned, but these satellites are disposable

each satellite only has a lifetime of 5-7 years (not including satellites that prematurely fail), and re-enters earth's atmosphere and disintegrates at the end of its life, and is then replaced by newly launched satellites

it's also worth mentioning that aluminum from re-entering satellites forms aluminum oxide, which can damage the ozone layer and risks reversing the recovery of the ozone hole

and this is touted as progress, "the future"! the way we bring high-quality internet to anyone who doesn't live in a big city or a wealthy country. a gift to all humanity! (except elon musk gets to deny it to whoever he wants)

and it is literally unsustainable

the so-called internet infrastructure of the future relies on frequent rocket launches spewing carbon dioxide and black soot into the atmosphere, and disposable satellites that destroy the shield that protects all life on earth from UV radiation

the atmosphere is a global commons. orbit is a global commons. yet a single company owned by a single fascist billionaire has appropriated a vast swath of orbital space and filled it with infinite trash machines - without any international regulation. but bring this up in any space fan circles, and you'll be met with techbros screaming at you and calling you an enemy of humanity for not thinking that elon musk should be able to do whatever he wants without regulation

starlink isn't the future, it's a cancer filling our sky with trash (and i guess some people get kinda expensive internet along the way? oh yeah btw the poor people they're talking about starlink helping can't afford it)

anyway fuck starlink, they should stop launching these trash satellites, if you want everyone to have internet we should build more publicly-owned fiber instead

[yuwuta]

RODEO STATION, 1 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO 

A collection of you and Megumi, through the years, through Gojo’s eyes. 

content, warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, sort of canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique but it’s not mentioned in depth here, really just you and megumi falling in love and gojo watching

word count: 1.1k

part i: first years, jujutsu tech. fits in the timeline around when nobara first joins the class

When Satoru first finds him, Megumi has two conditions. First, that Tsumiki would be kept safe and happy, and far away from the Zenin clan if they weren’t going to be good to her—safe and far away from all jujutsu society if Gojo could help it; and that she would never have to worry about feeding herself or Megumi ever again. Satoru agreed right away, he would have done that without the request. 

For his second condition, an eight year old Megumi looked Satoru straight in the eye and told him that he would absolutely not be separated from you. Satoru thought it was cute, sweet, in the bratty, and naive but determined kind of way that seemed to be everything that kid stood for, and Satoru couldn’t fault him for it. Megumi’s evident childlike adoration of you aside, Satoru saw potential in you, too, so he accepted Megumi’s conditions, happy to welcome the two of you to the world of sorcery. 

It’s not until a week before you both start at Jujutsu Tech, that Satoru really asks Megumi why he wants you here (never mind the fact that you had already also made up your mind about being a sorcerer, and if there is anything that Satoru has learned about you in the past decade, it’s that: one, you have the magical ability to make Megumi do anything you say; and two, you’re incredible persuasive and very stubborn). Megumi doesn’t look him in the eye when he answers, fidgeting with his melting ice cream instead when he says, “Well, she saved my life.” 

Satoru doesn’t tease when he hears this, only digging his spoon in for a scoop of Megumi’s toffee butter, smiling to himself when the cold hits his tongue, because he’d heard the message loud and clear: Megumi believes he owes you his life, and to keep yours protected, he wants you by his side.

Satoru quickly learns that Megumi truly has his work cut out for him as he watches you burst through a top-floor window of a high-rise building, falling carelessly with the object of your mission—a special-grade cursed object—clutched in your grasp. Second later, there’s a loud explosion, as the ugly head of a large cursed falls limp in the hole in the broken glass that you’d left behind. Satoru chuckles when he sees you smile, and the faint cheer of weeeeeeeee as you fall. He knew you were wild and stubborn by the way you bossed Megumi around without a care, but seeing you in action proved that you were also in your own league of crazy, a fantastic sorceress in the making. 

To his left, Yuuji gapes wildly as he looks up, shielding his eyes with his hand, and then flinching back when Nobara bursts through the ground floor door, not without a nail going flying into the curse that had been chasing her. She looks angry, then wide eyed, then up to where Yuuji and Megumi were also staring and starts squealing alongside him. 

“Gojo-sensei, what are you standing there smiling about—do something!” Nobara shouts, pointing an accusatory finger up in the air at your flying body. 

Yuuji gasps again, like he’d just figured out the consequence of you falling from a building, spewing on his own cries, “Hey, seriously, what the hell are we doing—she can’t fly,” he shouts, turning to shake his sensei, then pausing, “Wait, Fushiguro, can she fly? You know her.” 

“Idiot,” Nobara spits, “If she could fly then she’d be flying, not falling.”

“Then why aren’t we doing any—you know what, I think I can catch her,” Yuuji boasts, rolling up his sleeves, prepared to position himself underneath your descending body, and that’s when Satoru steps in, extending an arm in front of his students. 

“You all worry too much,” he smiles, lifting his blindfold just enough to look the pair in the eye, and tilt his head up slightly, “Besides, Megumi’s handled it.” 

Three heads turn back up to the sky, where you’re no longer in freefall, instead have had your shoulders snatched by Nue’s talons. You’ve still got that wild smile on your face, wider now as you descend much more elegantly via Megumi’s shikigami. Nobara and Yuuji wince as Nue’s wings flap widely when you’re set on the ground. You shift the box with the cursed object to one hand, reaching your free one around to pet the bird’s feathers. It crows happily, and Satoru snickers, much to Megumi’s dismay. You always did treat his shikigami like pets. 

“Hey, you’re okay!” Yuuji cheers, eyes sparkling, “What’s in the box? A sword—actually, I don’t want to know. If it’s another finger, keep it away from me.” 

“Hand it here,” Nobara demands. You’re happy to hand over the box and have another hand available for petting Nue. 

Satoru watches fondly as Yuuji and Nobara fuss over the box. They should probably exercise more caution, but he’s there, so the worst can’t happen. Meanwhile, you step closer to Megumi with Nue fluttering behind you. 

“You’re the one who told me there would be no need to get involved,” Megumi says, voice soft, hands falling comfortably at his side. 

“I said that you wouldn’t have to get involved with the curses,” you correct, standing on your tiptoes to nuzzles your head into the bird’s feathers, “I said nothing about not getting involved with me.” 

Satoru does his best not to choke out a loud laugh as Megumi’s face becomes increasingly pink when you reach forward to pinch his cheeks, his grumbling drowned in the sound of Yuuji and Nobara’s bickering. Satory sighs, content. He cares for all his students, but there’s a certain weight lifted on his shoulders knowing that when it came to you, there was truly nothing to worry about—Megumi would always be there for you. Honestly, he thinks Megumi might fight him to protect you if it came down to it. 

That thought does bring an audible chuckle to his lips, Megumi’s pinched expression calling to him, “What are you laughing about?” 

To which Satoru only hums, sticking his hands in his pockets. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow deeper, but it’s quickly dissolved when you catch his attention again, saying your farewells to Nue before giving Megumi the okay to let him recede into his shadows. 

“Oh, nothing,” Satoru chirps, turning to lead the group back to Ichiji’s car, “Come on, who’s still up for revolving sushi!”  

Cheers follow him as the veil dispels. You question Yuuji about whether or not you think the restaurant will have grilled eel, and Nobara pretends to throw up, arguing that eel is the worst, that you all should stick to hand rolls instead. Megumi stays quiet, walking on your outside, and humming along with all of your suggestions, and Satoru can’t help but wonder whether or not you knew that Nue had been out from the moment you’d stepped in the building. 

Honestly, he thinks Megumi might win that fight—might win any fight if it meant being with you.

[zillychu]

I’ve gotten a WAVE of asks about this AU, so I decided to flesh it out some more and answer some of those questions!

I’ll probably polish this extended summary up at some point and submit it to AO3. But for now, here’s a rundown of my thoughts–please feel free to send more questions! I’ll update this post if I get any more. But if you’re someone who wanted to write fic for it, don’t worry, you don’t need to take my headcanons as gospel. It’s a pretty basic AU honestly lol

Summary:

The portal accident results in a violent explosion that wipes out the whole block, and condemns all of Amity Park. Danny haunts the city for 100 years, before Sam and Tucker find him. 

Setup:

In the 1920’s, 19-year-old Danny went into the incomplete portal on his own, hoping to help out his parents. Ripping the portal open through unnatural means created a huge burst of energy that resulted in a massive explosion. A good portion of the Amity Park population died, many were injured, and the ones on the fringes relocated–Amity was quickly deemed too dangerous due to the excess ectoplasm in the area that attracted ghosts. 

While the disaster was in Amity, the fallout was seen around the globe. Before, natural portals were rare, short-lived, and rarely allowed ghosts to fully slip into our realm (the most severe cases being on par with poltergeists that most people didn’t believe in). Now, natural portals pop open frequently around the world, large enough to allow the entirety of a ghost into the physical plane. They’re more common the closer you get to Amity, but they happen enough elsewhere that this change was something of a small apocalypse before people settled back down and found out how to combat at least some of their new, permanent neighbors. 

Danny is unaware that he’s only half-dead, believing he’s a full ghost. He ends up sticking around Amity, unintentionally making it his haunt. His grief and guilt over causing the death of his loved ones (and many others) makes him isolate and avoid human contact. Though he has, at times, scared nosy people away from the city in a mix of territorial instinct–and to get them to leave before a less friendly ghost finds them. 

Ghosts are much more of an uncontested danger in this AU. Lesser ghosts are practically mindless, and while stronger ghosts are capable of reason, their interests are limited. They’re highly territorial, possessive, and often destructive. Most worrisome is that they also like to snack on the life force of anything alive. No one is sure what dictates a ghost’s propensity to attack or hunt the living for their life force since ghosts don’t exactly experience hunger. At least, not the way we do. If a human is rescued before their life force is fully drained, they can make a full recovery–though humanity has still not yet found what this “life force" is. 

And since the Fentons’ research died along with them, there aren’t many tools available to the public to protect them from ghosts. Most homes have standard ghost shields and some weapons are available on the market, but certified ghost hunters are required to take care of anything more powerful than your average spook. 

Sam and Tucker met in high school, and are now rooming together for college very close to the Amity border. Rent is surprisingly cheap when you’re a stone’s throw away from a condemned area crawling with ghosts. Sam is the one who drags Tucker along with her fascination over finding out more about the city, and its largely mysterious demise. Sam is aware of the danger, but feels ghosts have a place in this world just like everything else, and does exercise caution–like one would while foraging in the woods with a known tiger population. 

What she and Tucker weren’t expecting was to run into a ghost that felt almost human. One that hasn't hurt them, not for lack of trying–while being powerful enough to walk past ghost shields without so much as a flinch. The long white hair is familiar in the whispers of the ectobiologist community, but there’s no way it could be the rumored ghost king Phantom, right?

About Danny:

He has very long hair, claws, and black sclera. His hazmat suit is more torn and ragged, with exposed hands and feet that fade into a burnt black.

His hair tends to float a lot on its own. It can start morphing into fire under duress. 

He does still technically have gloves and boots, they've just charred and melted into his skin towards the ends. He can't take them off in his ghost form. His hands and feet have a leathery texture that's tougher than the rest of his skin.

The white of his hazmat suit is both supposed to look like flames, and also a battered look representing his more violent, explosive death.

Overall, he appears rather listless and sad, with an unnerving air of danger around him–even for a ghost. 

Danny’s “ghost sense” comes out as white smoke.

He does breathe black smoke at times, usually when agitated. 

He's already fought and defeated Pariah Dark by the time Sam and Tucker find him, technically making him the Ghost King. This is heavily speculated by ghost experts, despite there being no real proof beyond a massive battle that scarred Illinois. He has not donned the Ring or the Crown, and captured sentient ghosts are hesitant to answer questions surrounding him. Danny basically has the throne but doesn’t do anything with it, and finds it meaningless enough to routinely forget he has the title. He only fought Pariah because he knew otherwise, humanity would have perished. A lot of ghosts are scared of him because he's so hard to figure out, and he's strong. 

Danny is usually very quiet and speaks softly, because his lungs were damaged in the blaze that half-killed him. He's technically healed since becoming a ghost, so it's more of a compulsion due to the traumatic memory. That, and he’s just… very forlorn and distant, shy around humans who don’t seem to understand how dangerous it is to keep hanging around him.

His memories pre-accident are extremely fuzzy. He knows the very basics of who he was, but specifics have been muffled due to trauma and isolation. He routinely forgets human habits, etiquette, etc. and tends to act more like a full ghost with some odd quirks. 

He does try to scare Sam and Tucker off numerous times. Unfortunately for him, they realized they shouldn't have been able to escape a ghost that strong–but they did, because he let them. 

Sam and Tucker think he's mute at first! He doesn't speak a word to them until several encounters later, when he fumbles his whole scary act and saves them from another ghost. 

He’s still half-ghost, though he doesn’t figure this out until Sam and Tucker come along trying to unravel the mysteries behind the Amity catastrophe. Physically and emotionally, he’s been stuck for 100 years–so his human form is still 19. It’s unclear at this point if he can age normally like a human as long as he stays in human form, or if he’s immortal. 

Danny's family did not turn into ghosts, though he sometimes worries he'll find them in the afterlife as shells of their former selves. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's not sure he'd recognize them. 

(Danny also still has some living family. Take a guess.)

Yes, he knows how to Wail. Understandably, he very rarely uses it. You do not want to witness this.

Danny :) is not immune :) from the allure of eating a human's life force :)))

[hxnbi]

⸻ ❀°。❝ SHORT STACK ❞

requested by @kuppuru: furin boys + togame with short reader

pairings. hajime umemiya, hayato suo, haruka sakura, ren kaji, kyotaro sugishita, jo togame x gn. reader (separate)

note: tysm for your request! sorry if it took so long to write, i was suffering with exams but im finally free now. this goes to all my fellow short ppl out there 🫡 i also just wanted an excuse to find these goofy photos of my boys lmao

𝄞 ─ HAJIME UMEMIYA ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

What do you mean by that? You’re his significant other and that's all that matters! If anything, that only makes you even more adorable!

UMEMIYA's natural inclination to be clingy and protective intensifies tenfold when he's around you. As you often find yourself enveloped in his arms, whether it's at home, out for a walk, or even at a crowded event. He towers over you, using his height—and admittedly effective intimidation tactics, thanks to him being the leader of Furin—to shield you from the world’s troubles. 

"Up we go!" he jokes, effortlessly picking you up from out of nowhere and spinning you around like a merry-go-round carousel.

“Ume?!” you yelp in surprise.

Without realizing it, his face lights up like a neon sign, and he lets out a loud, joyful laugh. You’re so sweet! How could he not adore you?

Umemiya goes into press his lips against your cheek and buries his face in your neck. "You’re my perfect little charm." His laughter and love are almost infectious. 

Umemiya’s protectiveness doesn’t just stop at physical proximity, but extends to every aspect of your life. He’s always looking out for you, making sure no one dares to mess with you (not that anyone with a half-functioning nervous system would, anyway). Your height didn’t matter and will never matter to him, not when he sees you as his perfect partner and his other half, just the way you are.

𝄞 ─ HAYATO SUO ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

Without a doubt in my mind, SUO's a person who's all for teasing you. In fact, he revels in it. Even after calling the relationship official, Suo’s playfulness doesn’t stop. Rather, it only increases with time. Suo is all for teasing you about your height, flaunting his own height difference with that characteristic closed-eye smirk of his.

“Oh dear, do you perhaps need help?” he teases, pointing at something on a high shelf with one hand while the other resting at his back. “Would you like me to get you a ladder?” he asks 'kindly,' making you deadpan.

Suo finds your petite stature irresistibly cute, and he never misses a chance to remind you of it. But, to the surprise of nobody, like everything else in his life, he’s not as shamelessly open about it in public as opposed to in private. Rather, I see Suo bringing your height up when you least expect it, in hopes of getting a reaction from you recorded in his mind.

Though his teasing is always good-natured, Suo knows your boundaries well. He can tell when you're uncomfortable, especially around others. That alone is enough to make Suo's usual mischievous brows furrow, and he stares down whoever dares to cross the line, especially when he's around. His protective instincts kick in without hesitation. That, despite his constant banter, it’s clear that he adores you deeply, his eyes filled with warmth and affection so unlike his public persona that he discloses to the world.

𝄞 ─ HARUKA SAKURA ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

Okay, and? What about it? Who the fuck cares? He’ll just deal with anyone if they even dare to give you shit about it. SAKURA's nonchalant attitude towards your height is evident. He couldn't care less what others think, and he's ready to put anyone in their place if they dare to give you any trouble about it.

"If anyone has a problem with your height, they’ll have to deal with me," he barked, a protective arm around your shoulders. "And trust me, they won't like it.”

Nirei and Suo could only deadpan in unison seeing this. ‘He’s just a big softie…’ they both thought.

Regardless, his feelings for you don’t change. Sakura has also been through a lot. The people who berated and made fun of him due to things he didn’t have control over—his unconventional appearance—why do they care? Why should someone ever care? He understands how it feels to be judged for superficial reasons and is fiercely protective of you because of it. As for you? You felt warm, knowing he always has your back. 

Your height has nothing to do with who you are as a person, and he’s learning that, step by step. He’s always ready to defend you, ensuring you never have to go through the pain and ridicule he did, and not just because of your height, something you never had a peace or sovereignty over. Perhaps, he sees a bit of himself in you.

𝄞 ─ REN KAJI ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

Doesn't treat you any differently. And why should he? Is there some kind of top-secret reason that he's unaware of? Why should such a thing as height matter in his relationship? Dude grills his vice-captain Kusumi to get the full story, until he realizes that there is none. Tch, do you think he cares about bullcrap like that? Well suck it up, you shouldn't and never have to worry about such an outrageous thing.

KAJI continues to be his calm and composed self (when he isn’t blasting music until his ears bled), offering you the same level of respect and affection as always. Because, after all, "Why would your height change anything about how I feel?" he scoffed, putting back his headphones and closing the conversation right there, making you crack a smile at how matter-of-fact he was. 

Kaji’s grounded nature makes you feel secure. Height, weight, appearance, all those superficial aspects of a person doesn’t matter to him. It never did, because you never judged him for how he was. All he's doing is returning the favour to the one he one he loves, nothing more.

…So why are you looking at him with those sparkling eyes like he just found a cure for cancer?

𝄞 ─ KYOTARO SUGISHITA ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

SUGISHITA is in the same boat as Kaji, and, in actuality, it’s even more pronounced, as, while Sugishita doesn’t say a word, he’s quietly observant. Your height is just another characteristic to him that he loves in you, nothing that affects his feelings or how he treats you.

He is but a silent trooper that stands at your side.  Admittedly, it gets funny at times, seeing the difference in height between you and Sugishita, apparently especially when walking side by side. But he doesn’t mind. To him, your height is just another thing that makes you uniquely you. And all with a stoic grunt and a subtle smile that he tries to hide, but the hearts in his eyes don’t disappear with such that. 

“They’re so cute, aren’t they? You just have to show it!!” Umemiya says. And show it, he does.

The way Sugishita pats your head and cheeks, similar to how Umemiya would to the same to him, is his way of expressing affection—all in the most awkward way possible, as Sakura would scoff while the trio of Suo, Nirei, and him would from a distance. 

“...The hell is he doing? Does he treat them like a puppy or something?"

“S-Sakura-san!! Y-You might want to—”

All Sugishita would see was red, and it wasn't just from Suo's hair. "YOU—"

But don’t let that fool you. The end was anything but pleasant, as yet another chair became a victim of Sugishita’s wrath, and was broken that exact day, much to the dismay of Umemiya. 

𝄞 ─ JO TOGAME ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

TOGAME's initial reaction to your height is one of surprise, with the way he would stare and drill holes into your skull, genuinely amazed at how someone could be so short and yet so oblivious, like you didn’t have a care in the world. But his curious stare quickly transforms into admiration. At first, you really thought that he was judging you, from the way his eyes would stare down at you for seemingly uncomfortable amounts of time, but to Togame, it was nothing more than fascination. You were so petite (to him), to the point of being even adorable… 

Togame ran his fingers through his locks of hair. Shit, if you ever knew.

His best friend Choji is a bit on the shorter side, sure, but you? You were like some kind of tiny sprite. Unbeknownst to you, he finds your petite stature almost endearing in a way. And unintentionally or not, takes it as an opportunity to be even more attentive and caring over you. Togame’s affection is shown through his actions, whether it's reaching for items you can’t, or holding your hand protectively in crowded places. Whether it’s out of a sense of curiosity or if he truly loves you, one thing is clear, he can't help but show his affection in every little gesture.

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated ♡

[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)

---

Our favourites cross paths

CW: threats made with a weapon, mentions of injuries

Read below↓

Or AO3

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.

[russellsppttemplates]

Lando calling his wife "lovie" got me 🥹🥹🥹

And just the image of him cooing about a milk drunk baby is enough to send my ovaries into combustion!

Would you maybe write a little bit more about it, like maybe Lando posting or sending his family pictures of his milk drunk babies because he thinks it is the cutest/funniest thing?

Note: you and me both, anon!

"Tell me this isn't the cutest, squishiest face you have ever seen!", Lando groaned softly as he admired your babygirl while he walked in the Silverstone paddock, "I have to admit that's a pretty cute baby", Ted said into his microphone.

"Pretty cute? Tilly is the cutest", Lando stated, adjusting the hat on her head to shield her face from the sunshine that graced his home race weekend, "she has her tummy full and she was out like a light, nothing can bother her, she's in her own little world", Lando smiled, delighting everyone who saw the infections of the new father and his babygirl.

"It's extra special, no? Your home race, your family is here - the youngest Norris is here too - and a pole position that by the looks of it could get you a home race win", Ted wondered.

"Yes, it definitely is, we're not taking anything for granted until we race, obviously, but the spirits are definitely high", he smiled, kissing Matilda's cheek as she made a little noise, "I had another question to ask you but this little one made it fly out of my brain, actually", Ted chuckled as he shook his head.

"She usually has that effect on people, you can't really pay attention to anything else", Lando smiled proudly.

.

"Little man is down, was absolutely milk drunk and went out like a light", you said as Lando stepped out of the en suite bathroom, crawling up to you in bed and stroking the baby's soft cheeks, "He's so sleepy, look at him", you cooed, "he fell asleep with my nipple still in his mouth, I barely got a burp out of him before he was knocked right out", you smiled.

"We make really cute kids, don't we, lovie?", Lando said, resting his head on your chest and facing Fraser, and from your point of view, it was clear this baby would become a Lando clone soon enough.

"So far, they all look the most like you, so you're really just tooting your own horn", you scoffed playfully, "these cute cheeks and pouty lips, lovie? They're all you", Lando charmed, making you blush.

.

"Can you give her the bottle, please?", you asked Lando, "I need to make sure Matilda is not doodling instead of doing her homework", you kissed Lando's lips and baby Charlotte's cheek.

"Let's warm this up for you, babygirl", Lando said as he put the milk in the bottle and popped it in the warmer, "you're hungry, aren't you? And fighting sleep so I've heard - you gave mummy a full on afternoon", he giggled, pulling funny faces as she giggled at her father's antics.

"Off we go then, open up - there we go, Lottie", he smiled as she suckled, finally get her tummy full as he walked around bouncing her, "hopefully you'll sleep because you really need it, and that way you can also give mummy a little bit of a rest, just so enough me and her can have a cuddle, you know?", he playfully tsked, "you've been stealing all of my cuddles", he giggled as he looked at her precious face. Life had been generous enough with him - he had the woman of his dreams, a career he loved and their three little ones. Life was good.

After burping Charlotte, Lando rocked her to sleep, which didn't prove to be very hard as she was milkdrunk as ever, her little mouth opened as she rested on his chest.

"Tilly is doing fine and Fraser is happily playing with his toys", you said as you sat down on the sofa next to your husband, your daughter happily sleeping on his chest, "take a picture of this cute face and send it to the groupchat, please", Lando whispered as he gave you his phone so you could dot it.

Lando: Look at this cutie 🥰

Flo: Look at her chubby cheeks, I can't!

Cisca: She looks so out-of-it-milkdrunk, I bet she's having a good nap!

Lovie: Seeing her like this almost makes it look like she wasn't wide awake the whole afternoon - she never closed those big eyes, she was always staring at me!

Adam: look at our little girl 😍

"You're so loved, babygirl", you said, brushing the hairs on her head, cuddling closer to your husband.

"Finally I am the one getting a cuddle from mummy", Lando cheered, kissing your lips, "jealous much, handsome?", you teased, "just wanted a cuddle from you, woman! This one has hogged your boobs from me - I have to take what I can get!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)