#thought about him having a short little tail and about turned into dust

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overdue rhulk sketches 🫶

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 5

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

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Our favourites cross paths

CW: threats made with a weapon, mentions of injuries

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Time passes, though horribly slower in the desert heat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sucks how?"

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

"Glares can have wings?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Prove you’re a glare, then."

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

“Sure,” he says with a resigned sigh.

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

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

“Whoah-”

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

Grian looks at him curiously, his arms crossed.

“Okay, so believe me now?”

Scar smiles, nodding vigorously.

“That was sooo cool!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know about the codes?"

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

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

"I feel like that much should be obvious."

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

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

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

—

"Be careful they might be dangerous."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"… Can't argue with that logic."

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

“Don't-”

"Glad you trust me!" Scar beams.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait-”

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

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

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

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

“…why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just– turn it inside out or something–”

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

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

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

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

“You're not… coming with??”

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

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

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

“Why, hello there!”

“EEEEK!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We?” One of them asks.

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

“They're …not here?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Too slow,” Grian replies bluntly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our arms- OW! QUIT IT- LET GO!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not one of yours,” he mumbles back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So… maybe we should start over?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh… sorry?” Grian shrugs.

“I already dislike you-”

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

“What?”

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

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

“THAT'S CRIMINAL-” Jimmy squawkes.

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

“We could- help them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…No.”

“We don't really have anything-”

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

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

“Game?” Scar repeats.

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

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

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

“Okay! Deal!” Scar finally replies.

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

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

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

“-What about during?”

“Okay, during.” Tango agrees to Scar.

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

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

Scar tilts his head at him slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?” Jimmy replies confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scar clocks Grian making a small sneer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Oh, that's rough,” Scar replies.

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

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

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

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

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

“WHOA, what really?”

“Ugh,” Grian grumbles.

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

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

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

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

“You're a sheriff?” Scar asks.

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

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

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

“Nevermind.”

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

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

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

“… Yeah, actually.”

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

“Oh.”

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

Ah, right, not-a-Vindicator time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Not a chance,” Grian says coldly.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like the beeping!” Jimmy responds.

“Yeah-”

“OH, THE PHANTOMS!” Scar exclaims.

“Phantoms?”

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

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

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

Tango and Jimmy share a doubtful look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What mechanic?” He leans closer, curiously.

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

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

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

“No no just Jimmy, he fell.”

“Gracefully!” Jimmy interrupts with too much enthusiasm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh- no I didn't.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we're not linked.”

Tango shrugs, titling his head at Jimmy and smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scar?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you'll agree to be a group?”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How convenient for you,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm not-”

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

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

“You’re very tall… thought maybe-”

“Oh no, I'm a glare!” he replies.

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

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

“It might rain!” Jimmy notes gleefully.

“Rain? Here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… What?”

“I feel like it's very justified.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

Almost everyone lets out a breath of relief.

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

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

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

—

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

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

Tango is the first to break the silence.

“I don't think I trust you.”

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

“I bet you’re one of them.”

“Them?” Grian almost laughs.

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

“What is your problem with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tango's wild gaze jumps to him and sticks.

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

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

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

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

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

“…Unrelated circumstances,” Scar says simply.

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

“Well… We're friends.”

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

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

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

“…We made a deal!” He settles on.

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… What?”

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

“What are you trading?”

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

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

“Sand?” Jimmy almost yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grian!” Scar nudges him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Grian murmurs.

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… just, there's a wall there.”

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

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

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

“Oh, are you doing that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you… okay?” Scar asks.

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Grian mumbles.

“What do you think you are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scar tilts his head from side to side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I knew that much already.”

“I– hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It didn't feel fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well I mean secrets—” Scar starts.

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

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

“I don't know…” He titters.

“I'm just very curious.”

“… about me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scar nods.

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

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

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

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

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

Grian snorts.

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

Scar smiles more genuinely this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thatonefreakk-0]

~Heat~

➵Author: thatonefreakk-0

➵Content: Fluf, Smut, p in v, gentle sex, praise

➵Words: 2.844

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It's once again a hot day in hell, which is usually normal, but today is one of those EXTRA hot days. Everyone at the hotel is trying to desperately find ways to cool off a little.

Everyone seems to be wearing very little clothing to try and bypass the unbearable heat. You yourself are wearing a short skirt and tank top, which differs from your usual attire of having a lot of your body covered up. Though under these terrible temperatures you let it slide. Navigating through the hotel's long hallways, you enter the lobby and see Angel Dust and Husk on the couch, in front of a fan. You make your way over to them, "Can I join you two?" you say almost desperate to sit in front of that fan. "Of course!", Angel tells and you don't hesitate to jump in front of the fan with them. The cooling air of the fan hits your burning hot skin, you sigh and close your eyes, relaxing into the couch with the cooling breeze showering over you.

-

Most of the guys are topless, which is understandable, if you were a guy, you'd be topless right now as well. Thinking of this made you realise, you haven't seen Lucifer at all today. Lucifer and you are close, you call each other best friends, but there's definitely more.

Your head roams with thoughts of what he could possibly be doing right now, or what he's wearing. He always covers up, the most you've ever seen are his forearms from when he crumpled his sleeves to his elbows. You shake your head to get out of your train of thought and get up to walk to the kitchen, all this heat is making you thirsty after all.

Picking up a glass you fill it with cold water and chug it slowly, you set the glass down and let out a relieving sigh. Sweat pearls up on your forehead as the heat strikes you again, you wipe it away and look to your side. Your eyes widen as you see Lucifer in the lobby, talking to Charlie. Your eyes immediately dart to what he's wearing. He's topless, making his wings pop behind him and showing off his abs and well trained back. Your eyes fall further, he's wearing sweatpants, they look custom tailored to fit his tail. You just stare in awe at his striking beauty.

'Pull yourself together!', you tell yourself and snap out of the trance you were in. You decide to see what they're talking about. "Hey Luci, hey Charls, what's up", you ask mindlessly, trying to ignore Lucifer's breathtaking physique.

His head turns to face you and and his eyes widen a little, looking at your face before briefly checking you out. That's when you notice, you've never worn clothes that are as revealing as the ones you decided to wear today. A light blush crosses your cheeks but before you could think, you were cut off. "Hey y/n! Dad just wanted to tell me something real quick, what about you?", Charlie explains and I nod my head, showing that I acknowledged her words. "Ah- yes, I just went to get a drink real quick" you chuckle the notice Lucifer staring at you. "Y/n?", Lucifer says close to a whisper. "Yes, Luci?", you question his sudden mention of your name. "How are you dealing with this heat to today?", his voice shifts back to an innocent tone. "Oh, barely, it's so hot", I tell wiping pearls of sweat off my forehead. "I can tell, want to join me in my room? I have cooling". "You. Have. Cooling? And you didn't tell me?! Yes I'll join you!", you couldn't believe he had cooling this entire time. Lucifer chuckles, "Come with me then". With no further questions, you follow him to his room.

This isn't your first time in his room, you've been here countless amount of times. You enter his room and feel the shift in temperature instantly, relieved, you let yourself fall on his bed, sighing comfortably. Faint chuckling can be heard as you get comfortable on his cozy, smooth bed. He walks towards you, smiling, "Better in here isn't it?". "I'm never leaving your room, ever again". He laughs, "Is that so?". "Uh huh!", you stretch your arms then sit up on his bed when you suddenly notice his chest. You totally forgot he was topless and a faint blush creeps onto your cheeks. Lucifer seemed to notice this and sits beside you. His eyes darting different features of your body which he hasn't seen before and it's making you blush. "You know.. I really dont have a problem with you staying in my room", he explains. You were about to say something but he beats you to it, "I mean you can stay here any time you want-!" he notices what he said and embarrassingly tries to save himself. You laugh, "Relax~ I'd love to stay here, it's super comfy!", you smile at him and he seems to ease up again.

It's only now that you realise just how close you are sitting to him, thighs touching. Usually you wouldn't mind this, you and Luci hug each other a lot but something is just off with you today.. perhaps not only you are feeling 'off' today.

The tension hanging in the air is as thick as the awkward silence that was filling the room, until Lucifer broke it off, "You know uh.. I've never told you this but you're outstandingly beautiful". You can't help but blush at the compliment and look away embarrassed. "Oh stop it-", you smile nervously, trying to deny it. "Oh but you are", he speaks with new found confidence in his voice, which he definitely got from seeing you blush.

His fingers gently grab your chin and turn your head to face him. Your eyes widen slightly, flustered, you're now looking at him. His eyes dart to your lips, then meet your eyes again. His whisper breaks the silence once again, "You're so breathtaking..", he says in awe of your beauty, examining your face. Your heart starts pounding faster as he leans closer. 'Is this actually happening?? Are we about to kiss?!', you think to yourself. "Y/n..", he pauses, "may I kiss you..?". Your heart pounds out of your chest as those words leave his lips. You'd be a fool to deny it. You'd be a fool to deny him. You gather any amount of confidence left and answer boldly, "Do it". He seems taken aback by your bold answer but accepts it. His hands cup your face and he pulls you closer, "I've always wanted to kiss you", he whispers against your lips and kisses you gently.

Your heart skips a beat as you feel his lips on yours, soft and gentle, passionately kissing. Your mind eases a little, knowing the feeling is mutual now. Your hands reach up into his soft blonde hair and you kiss back, matching him perfectly. The kiss you share seems to have stopped time. You're completely lost in his sweet taste. His right hand moves gracefully to the small of your back and pulls you in closer. Your hands leave his hair and settle on his bare chest.

He separates the kiss and you both try to catch your air. You look up at him, pure love in his eyes as he meets your almost enchanting gaze. "That was.. amazing" you whisper. Both of your faces are flush pink, you want to kiss him again but you're unsure if he does too. 'He really did kiss me' you think to yourself in shock. The silence is loud, unspoken feelings are in the air and the oh so familiar tension between you two didn't seem to budge. "Y/n,..?" his smooth voice rips you out of thought and you nod. He seems to say something but all you see are his lips moving. "..y/n..? Are you listening?". You completely ignore his question, the kiss you shared with him just now fueled you. You want more so you gently grab his face, taking him off guard. "Kiss me again, I liked it". He smirks at your words and pulls you onto his lap, back your face heat up. "So eager hm~?", he whispers and kisses you deeply. This time, you both seem a bit more needy. His hands roaming your body carefully and pulling you even closer.

You separately the kiss to catch some air, look into his half lidded eyes which are full of love and lust? "Y/n..", he starts and you notice that you do see lust in his eyes. Before Lucifer could say anything, you kiss him deeply and a little rougher than before. Instantly he kiss back, the kiss is rough and sloppy, you're making out. Your hips start to involuntarily move back and forth, grinding against his crotch which makes him groan. His hands examine your body, moving down under your skirt, grabbing your ass and pulling you flush against him. "You sure you want this~? I advise you to be careful with your decisions~" he smirks. "What'll happen if we keep going~?", I tease dragging my fingertip from his chest downward. "That depends on how far you want to take this darling", he stops and leans in to whisper into my ear, "I'm willing to do whatever you'd like~". You blush. Calling you 'darling' then telling you that?? Butterflies.

"Now I'm curious~", you giggle. "We'll see how long that giggle lasts my love", he whispers and kisses you hard, making you moan into the kiss unexpectedly. You kiss back and decide to just go all out. Grinding yourself against his crotch. The groans he lets out only help to fuel your desire. You start to feel his erection growing and smirk during the kiss. "Someone's excited to see me~", you chuckle. "Always.. fuck you're so hot", he responds quick. You think you have him in a vulnerable state, but he proves you wrong and swiftly moves you onto the bed, getting on top of you. You gasp but he shushes you, "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you", he winks and starts trailing small kisses down to your neck. The kisses start to get sloppy and you feel his teeth graze your skin. He bites making you gasp and choke back a moan. He notices, "Don't hide those sweet noises baby~", he orders, his voice lower than usual. He goes back to your neck when you feel him bite. "Mhh~". "That's my girl~", he breathes against your neck. He bites your neck until he finds your sweet spot. "Ah-!", you moan, making him bite harder. "Ah~ Lucifer..". He chuckles then puts on a little more serious tone, "Are you okay with us doing this love?". "Y-yes", you can't believe he asked for permission. With your conformation, he continues. You see his gold magic remove both of your clothes and you heat up. You can see his body now, wow.. He notices your staring, "Looks like you enjoy your sight just as much as I like mine~", he licks his lips looking at my body and I blush.

He moves down and spreads your legs, brushing his fingers between your wet lips, making you gasp. He finds your clit and massages it gently, you whimper at this, your stomach feels fuzzy. He enjoys your whimpering and rubs your clit faster. "Ah~ oh my- ngh~", you hold onto the bedsheets. "So sensitive hmm~", he says seductively, his voice very deep and low, which you have never heard before. You open your eyes to look at him, his eyes glowing red and his eyelids low. 'Shit he looks hot', you think to yourself then feel a finger at your entrance and gasp,pulling you out of thought. "You're soaking wet for me already~ You want me so bad hm~". You blush and look away embarrassed but he makes you face him with his other hand at your chin, "Tell me what you want sweetheart~ What is it you want me to do~". Your blush stays content, "I.. I want you". "Want me to what~", he teases. "To.. fuck me..". "That's my good girl~", he says as he lifts my legs over his shoulders,"You ready~? I'll start slow, if you want me to stop tell me alright?". 'He's so respectful..', you think and nod.

With that he presses his tip against your wet entrance, then pushes in slowly, making you groan as his big size stretches you out. Grabbing and holding on to the bedsheets as he pushes in further, inch by inch. "That's it, you're doing great my love~", he praises, suppressing his groans. He stays still, letting you adjust to his size. As he's letting you adjust you deside to ask out of curiosity, "Lucifer?". "Hm?". "How big are you-?", you can see his face flush a little as you ask. "Right now, about 12 inches". You look at him shocked, "12 inches- No wonder it hurts-, wait- what do you mean by 'Right now'?". He chuckles, "Size manipulation darling, 12 inches is my normal size but if you need more I can give you more". You blush, "Oh- I think 12 inches is more than enough". He laughs, "You ready for me to move?". You nod and he starts to slowly slide in and out of you, gaining groans and moans. He groans as well, his hands on your hips to hold you steady. He starts moving a little faster, making you moan more. He increases the speed of his thrusts more and more. You're a moaning mess now with unregulated breathing. "Ahh~ Ngh~ please f-faster Lucifer~", you beg and he happily obliges. He thrust even faster, "Ahh~ yes~!". Without a warning he thrusts faster and faster making you throw your head back and arch your back at the intense pleasure. "Fuck~! Ahh~!", you moan loudly, your hands making their way down to try and cover your pussy in 'protest' but he's not letting that slide. His demon tail swirls around your wrists and pins your hands above your head, "Behave darling~", he orders between his own groans. He continues to slam into you rougher and harder and you start loosing control over your body. You feel yourself getting close to a climax and make sure he knows too, "L-lucifer~! I-I'm close~nghh~". "Good, cum when you're ready baby~", he thrusts faster and harder, feeling your walls clench around his length. "Fuuuck~ Deeper~~!". He does as told and thrusts balls deep into you at an insane speed. "I'm- I'm coming~~!!", you shout as you release your liquid and orgasm. You moan relieved and he let's you ride out your orgasm then pulls out. "Do you mind uhm..", he looks down at his hard dick, he pulled out to not cum inside you. You quickly move and take him in your mouth, earning a rich moan from him. You suck him off hard and rough and not soon after he grabs your hair and finishes, shooting his cum down your throat moaning loudly, "Ah~ y/n~ fuck~!". He let's go of you and you look up at him swallowing his cum. Both of you trying to catch your breath.

Both of you manage to calm down again. "That felt just amazing" you tell him. "I'm glad you liked it", he smiles. You lay down and he drops next to you, stretching his arm out for you to lay on, which you do and snuggle against his warm body. "Lucifer..". "Yes?". "I love you". His breathing hitches as you told him that, "I.. I love you too y/n", he whispers as his hand brushes through your hair. You fall asleep.

-^-

You wake up cuddled against him still and sit up carefully. "Good morning beautiful", Lucifer tells you sitting up as well. "Good morning Luci", I smile. "Let's go get breakfast sha'll we?". You nod and watch him get up, so do you and you hear him chuckle, "Looks like you're having a little trouble walking there". "Mhmm, I wonder why that is", you say sarcastically. He snaps his fingers and you're both wearing his robes. It's a little big on you but it fits. Together, you two walk to the kitchen and see the others. You don't notice that they're all looking at you and Lucifer at first but then Angel says something, "Looks like someone had fun yesterday~" he teases and laughs. You blush a bit embarrassed and just groan in response.

Lucifer grabbed some tea for both you and himself and walked past his daughter Charlie, "You have a new mum now", he says out of nowhere and takes a sip of his tea as he finds his seat at the table. Your eyes widen at his words and blush embarrassed. Angel looked surprised and Husk spit his water out. Charlie looks dumbfounded, "W-What?", she looks at Lucifer shocked. "You heard me", he simply says and sits down, you joining him.

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END

BOOM, I haven't written smut in years and I've actually never written in the 3rd perspective so I hope it was alright!

If you have requests please tell me, I'd love to hear and write your ideas!

[hazelfoureyes]

Angel’s Alastor

「Warnings/Promises: Angel x Alastor, bondage, rutting into beds, rutting into pants, Alastor keeps his dick in those pants, kisses, smooches, tentacle fucking, masturbation, cum eating implied??, karaoke reference」

Angel imagines Alastor is his co-star in a naughty film. Luckily he has just the toy to help him get into the scene.

MinoRS DNI 👨🏻‍🏭🙅🏻

The offer to fuck on camera was partly a joke and partly an invitation.

Angel had the ability to later say it was just self deprecating humor to even allude to wanting to fuck Alastor. The radio demon. The strawberry pimp.

What a laugh, Tall Dark and Creepy? Famously, whether he had a term for it or not, disinterested in sex?

When he stopped to think about, watching Alastor sip a whiskey and stare off into the void, what would that even look like?

Sex with Alastor, that is.

Angel watched his mouth part and peeked at his tongue. He sure did talk a lot, maybe his tongue had some skill. Wagging all day made for a strong muscle.

And he was strong. Not a hunk by any measure but he could tear apart airships and summon minions with a snap. Kinda hot. Power always added a level of attractiveness. 

Alastor’s ears … twitched. Perhaps a bug had landed on one. Angel’s head tilted a little as his eyes followed down Alastor’s long neck. Did he have chest fluff to match the ears? His happy trail… red? Black? What about his backside? A little tail?

Hooves…. Angel could take them or leave them. But he lingered at the calves and arms. Where he knew the black faded into the tan pallor of his face.  Did his cock fade too? A gradient Angel could squeeze and try to feel through his skin.

“What about you, Angel?”

“Oh fuck, I totally zoned out and forgot we were … we were doin’ something. Sorry Charlie.”

Charlie’s fingers templed, “We were having a conversation. About how you think redemption is going?”

Angel blinked away the tingle up his spine as Alastor’s attention turned to him, “Yeah that sounds great, sign me up okay? I’m headed out,  I gotta go for a walk or some shit.”

It was ‘some shit.’

A couple drinks, a few rounds of karaoke, and a quick make out session with a very generous stranger and Angel found Alastor had disappeared entirely. Until he curled into his bed to let the spinning room rock him to sleep.

And he wondered…

If Alastor was one of the guys in his shoots. The big bad who kidnapped him….

Angels arms were tied behind his back—

No, Angel stopped, Alastor would never go through the motions of tying someone up.

Angel's arms were held above his head and behind his back by writhing and curious black tentacles. A dark and smoky room, Alastor standing pretty as his shadows did all the work. 

“I’m going to need your cooperation, Angel Dust.”

Angel struggled, “Not a chance. Val would kill me and he’s a lot scarier than you.”

“Now now, you’ve barely let me explain the details.” Alastor took four swift and long strides to be within touching distance. “You report back what the Vees discuss. No theft, no clandestine recording devices.”

Alastor had to look up to meet Angel’s indignant gaze. 

“And what’s in it for me?” A smirk. 

“That depends, what do you want?” Alastor’s clawed hand touched his hip, “Anthony.”

Angel peeled off his shorts and vest. He’d found a fun narrative, one he wanted to see through. A hand wrapped around his still half soft cock and began gentle tugs.

“You don’t have what I want.” Angel bit his lip. He watched the radio demon’s brow arch, a challenge. “So why don’t you stop playin’ and either let me go or get your dick out.”

A laugh he’d heard a hundred times before bouncing off the walls he hadn’t bothered to imagine, “Dirty mouth for an ‘angel’.”

“Oh you don’t even know the half of what my mouth can do.” His tongue rolled out and beckoned Alastor closer, “And I ain’t no angel.”

His dark eyes stayed calm as new appendages began ripping off Angel’s clothes. “Oh that’s right. Angel Dust. You’re a drug. Cheap and addictive.”

“Aww and I thought you didn’t watch my movies!”

“I have no interest in filth.”

“You sure ‘bout that? Seem interested enough in  me.”

“You, Anthony, are not filth.” Alastor’s hand slid down Angel’s stomach, past his erection and balls. “You are art best seen up close. Intimate viewings only. Where patrons can take their time to admire the details.”

Alastor’s fingers pressed gently at Angel’s puckered hole. 

Angel tried to slow the prodding of his now lubed fingers at his entrance. Alastor would be frustratingly slow. But he wanted Alastor to rush in, to hurt him a little. But then why even think of him? Anyone could do that. Everyone does do that.

Alastor’s middle finger slipped in. Angel wanted a kiss, wanted anything more but the overlord didn’t allow him any movement.

A second finger. Quick and sloppy thrusts, poor preparation but more than some. A third finger, Angel moaned Alastor’s name. 

Once he started he couldn’t stop, “Alastor. Alastor. Alastor!” Every time he said it louder it made his fingers feel like they could truly belong to Alastor. Leaking and fully erect, his dick was pulsing in reply.

“Oh fuck, Alastor. I know you have more for me. Come on, daddy.” Angel’s ass was rocking against those quick fingers. “Gimme more. Ya can’t break me.”

A wicked grin, Alastor’s free hand coming to rake through Angel’s chest fluff, “Oh, I absolutely can. But, luckily for you, I’m not interested in seeing you in pieces.”

Three fingers slipping in and out with slicked ease, Angel rummaged in his side drawer feeling around for the shape he was seeking. Tongue out with concentration until he felt the little bumps and the curve he needed. 

He’d rarely used the tentacle dildo, but suddenly it seemed like a very convenient purchase. The tip was so thin, the base so wide. 

From point a to b, Angel lost track of the storyline. He just needed to skip ahead, quick fingers to hungry tentacles working in time with the real life toy. A taper that allowed Alastor to reach deeply but still stretch his hole with enough burn to keep Angel’s attention on where they connected. Could Alastor feel him? How much was he able to sense through his shadow appendages?

His face didn’t let on, no slip of what he was feeling. 

Angel’s soul was his own when outside of Val’s studio, time he’d happily sell to Alastor to see the man so much as break a sweat. But he could, at least in his head.

“Would it kill ya to kiss me?” Angel wished he could hide his need better but even in his dreams he was melting for a chance to feel Alastor. Skin to skin, wet warmth anywhere on him. “I could make ya see stars behind your eyelids.”

A hum, hand slipping up his neck and to his jaw, “Dear I don’t need to close my eyes to see a star.” Angel held his breath as Alastor leaned in, a slow tilt of his head threatening to pull another moan from him. His eyes closed and he waited for that feeling of soft lips against his.

And he waited.

With a huff he opened his eyes to complain about the hold up, but his words got caught in his throat when he saw the expression on Alastor’s face. Knitted brows and heated cheeks, he’d never seen such a needy look.

A look that twisted back to its usual smirk when a thrust into Angel pulled a shocked whine from the spider demon. Even in his dreams he would be made to beg. 

“Do ya want my help or not?” His voice was huskier than before, struggling to keep his reactions to a minimum. 

“Oh? A kiss is all it costs? There’s the cheap part.”

“And I’ll show ya the addictive part if ya hurry up already.” Maybe Alastor was loosening the restraints, maybe Angel was just adept at escapes, but he managed to pull a hand free. 

Grabbing hold of the smaller demon by the ear he pulled Alastor into a kiss. 

Another moan. He felt the heat of the blush reaching his own ears; it was just a kiss. But it made him twitch at the idea. Even as the long black toy bottomed out, his mind was on the ghostly pair of lips he could almost feel. 

Like a man with time to kill, Alastor didn’t let Angel slip his tongue in until he heard the hunger in his breaths. And as Angel’s tongue reached deeper into his mouth, so did the tentacle in him. His knees began shaking, finally both holes full of Alastor. 

Angel’s tongue danced behind his teeth, going through the motions. He wanted more friction. Rolling onto his stomach, Angel began rutting into his bed. 

Alastor pulled him close, grinding his crotch into Angel’s leaking cock. Every roll of his hips pulled a gasp from the porn star.

“You're gonna get your pants all dirty.” Angel’s mouth left Alastor’s long enough to comment but Alastor’s leaned back and out of reach when he tried to return.

“Hmm, I’ll have to make you lick them clean after.”

Angel’s head fell back, he gripped the toy with five fingers around the base and pumped it in and out. Every return to his tight heat seemed to stretch him a little wider, prod new depths no dick had ever managed to reach before.

If it wasn’t Alastor, he’d be scared. But the two hands holding his hips in place as his precum was smeared into the overlord’s pants felt like a safety net. Alastor wouldn’t go too far. He was a master at pushing limits and that was it.

Angel’s mouth hung open, drool sliding down his chin as his hips picked up speed. A hand came between his legs and began stroking his shaft. He wanted to cum.

He needed to cum. He dropped his head back down and let his free hand slide across the lapels of Alastor’s suit.

Twisting the toy, he hit it.

“There!! You’re hitting my spot. Don’t stop.” Angel’s body shook. The radio demon grabbed him gently by the neck and gave a testing squeeze. 

Angel’s hand tightened slightly on his throat. Just enough to make the pressure in his head become noticeable. 

“Alastor please, I’m close. Don’t stop, don’t ya dare fuckin’ stop,” his slit was sliding across the precum soaked fabric. It was rough, but made him cry as he grew harder and more sensitive. “Gonna cum soon.”

His cock was still rubbing into his silky blanket despite his hand’s direct help. He pulled a throw pillow into his mouth and screamed. Every ounce of his brain’s focus went to his dick and caused his hand to slow the thrusts into himself.

He was pulled into a breath stealing kiss. With Alastor’s mouth on him again, exhales across his skin, Angel came with a cry. Alastor’s tentacle buried deep in him as his cock pulsed lines of semen across the demon's pants.

Angel‘s hips kept thrusting, smearing his seed into the blanket and across his knuckles. He took his hand off the toy and let the spasms of his twitching hole push it out and back onto the bed. 

Alastor’s tongue swiped up Angel’s lips. He didn’t stop rubbing his lap into the groaning demon even as his tentacles all withdrew. Angel fell to his knees before long and thin fingers pulled his chin up.

“Now, lick.”

༻Masterlist༺

˖ ݁���.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

[procyonloser]

(orc/elf Adamsapple mini. warning for mentions of childbirth and violence/bloodshed)

Adam was exhausted, his breathing was only now starting to even out, but he couldn't sleep yet. One of the taller elves handed him a round crying bundle, which he pulled up onto his breast.

The infant looked massive in comparison to the elven children that watched on from the entrance of the room - but it was minute compared to any orc children. His eldest child sat beside him on the birthing bed, sucking his thumb, not fully understanding what was going on, but he was just barely walking yet. Like his eldest, this infant had shorter pointed ears, somewhere between elf and orc, and a short tail, which the elven children found wildly hilarious. He knew his children would have a hard time growing up here, already being called names, like piglet. The alternative was impossible, his own village would kill them immediately.

Lucifer leaned in, pressing a kiss upon his brow, and then onto the newborn. A little girl, with a shock of blonde hair, showing she did take after him just as much as she did Adam.

"You've done beautifully, my love." Lucifer said, and Adam wanted to be happy, but the elven wet nurses looked at him with disdain at best, disgust at worst. They weren't supposed to allow orcs into their lands, and Lucifer was far from the most popular elf, even before he brought Adam home.

Maybe they'd find somewhere, someday, for their family - away from all the names and looks.

But how had he even gotten here? Well, it started two years back.

The orc village Adam was from was one of the largest, and Adam was the firstborn son of the current ruler. That, of course, didn't secure his position. He had to fight to keep it, and it was only a matter of time until someone challenged his father, or he was killed out on a raid. His sisters too seemed eager to get rid of him, but Adam wasn't about to let that happen. There were multiple ways to win favor within his village, but capturing an elf was always a big one.

They were fast, they could use magic, they had more advanced weaponry, and they had jewelry. They were always bedecked in things that glimmered, things that Adam's village had little of. Adam needed a wife to secure his own future as well, he needed heirs, and he needed gold to melt down and turn into a marriage dagger for the orc of his choosing. So, Adam needed an elf.

And, he'd just so happened to have spotted one in this area recently, an open glen within the woods. It was very far outside the line of their own territory, which meant the elf was either strong, or incredibly stupid - or as his mother Asherah, would say about Adam, a stunning mix of both.

Adam sat up on a high oak branch, one heavy enough to carry him, watching from above as his target made itself known. He couldn't tell if it was male or female, elves all looked the same to him, but it seemed short, even for their species. It walked around the glen, picking up sticks, bending them like it was testing the brittleness, before throwing them away. Elven bows were one of their worst weapons, the orcs had nothing so long distance besides throwing spears.

Adam waited until it was turned around, before he jumped down from his hiding spot, and swung his club hard into the elven figure with a cackle. It went flying, hitting a rocky outcrop, and collapsing as a cloud of dust rose around it. Adam grinned, resting his club on the ground, and waiting to see if the elf got back up.

"You shouldn't have come out so far, little one. You know, if you're not dead, all you need to do is give me all your jewelry and clothing, and I'll let you live." That was a lie. "You can go home." Adam wanted to see first if it was a male or female, then he'd probably trade them off to the humans.

The elf pushed up onto a hand, and Adam's grin spread. It was stronger than he'd thought. As the dust cleared, the elf got to it's feet, and made eye contact with Adam. Red eyes, that was uncommon.

"Somehow I doubt that," the elf said wryly, in a deeper voice than he'd expected. He had no weapons on him that he could see, not even a knife.

"Are you male?" Adam asked, and the elf gave a small nod. "Well, I have to admit that's less interesting."

Adam raised his club again, ready to finish the job. "Make your choice, elf."

The elf raised an eyebrow, dusting himself off, like he was entirely uninterested in Adam's threats.

Maybe because he was.

With a flick of his wrist, Adam went flying backwards, dropping his club, and falling down the side of a riverbank. Immediately, he knew something was wrong, he'd not expected such powerful magic out of an elf so small. Adam coughed, and coughed until it came up red as he landed, feeling a sharp pain begin to radiate from his center. Adam looked down, and felt cold. He'd landed on a downed tree, and a jagged broken branch had impaled him through his stomach.

The elf appeared at the edge of the riverbank, expression going from tired, to shocked. In an instant, he'd silently jumped down beside Adam, looking over the wound. "Oh no...I didn't mean for this to happen..." He whispered to himself, chewing on his lip.

Up close, Adam could see he was very pretty. A small heart shaped face, large eyes, long sharp pointed ears covered in dangling gold and gems. Adam's breathing got more haggard as he watched him move around, as though he was trying to find some angle where Adam wasn't going to die.

"Hey, what's your name?" Adam asked quietly, and the elf looked up, startled.

"Lucifer."

"I'm Adam. Could you do me a last favor? You elves have honor, right?" Lucifer paused, but nodded. "Could you give me one of your necklaces? When my people find my body, I want them to know I fought. I want my mother to have it."

Lucifer watched him, brows knit together as Adam spoke. He looked more pained than Adam felt, because, in truth, he'd started to not feel much of anything. He was cold, that's all he felt.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, why did you have to-" Lucifer shook his head, before he raised a hand, and Adam began to raise off the branch. Blood began to pour out of his open wound, as Lucifer lowered him onto river stones. A golden glow surrounded delicate fingers, and he pressed them against Adam's stomach.

"I'm not going to let you die, Adam. I'm going to heal you, then you can see your mother yourself." Lucifer said, meeting his eyes with resolution on his face. He raised a bloodied hand to Adam's cheek, caressing it just briefly, before returning it to start the healing work. Adam closed his eyes at the soft touch, and waited for death to take him, but it never came.

Adam woke up, who knew how much later, weak, but alive. They were in a cave, illuminated by a soft red glow, and he heard gentle singing, and felt a hand running through his hair. He leaned into the touch.

It was the beginning of their life together.

[muzzlemouths]

[CW: Death/implication of death]

The clock reads a quarter to midnight when Sun powers on. Too early. He isn’t meant to come online for another six hours, and the daycare itself won’t open for another hour after that. He promptly runs a scan to determine the reasoning behind his premature entrance and when it returns inconclusive he turns to Moon. It is his metaphorical toes he is stepping on by encroaching on the night as he is, after all.

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that settles like dust. A quiet that makes one aware of the breath that stirs within their lungs or, in Sun’s case, the gentle whir of an internal fan that perpetually keeps his system from running itself into the ground. A quiet so frequently interrupted by the welcomed voice of his other half…and yet, nothing. His question goes unanswered, left to gather with the dust, and he is forced to proceed as though these strange happenings haven’t disrupted his entire morning routine.

A routine further disturbed upon having to remind himself for the second time already that it isn’t morning, he isn’t meant to be going through the start-up procedure to begin with, and he can’t be blamed for the corrupted sense of awareness he feels as a result. Sure, the lights are on, and his systems, too, return with normal results after a precautionary scan, but there is a discomfort to all of this scratching at the inner plating of his frame. Something is wrong wrong wrong.

“…Moon?”

His second attempt at communication yields no better results than the first, only a vague static answering the call, murmur-soft background noise, as though someone had plucked a phone from its receiver and then walked away. Frustrating is what it was. To ignore him was childish at best, but at worst, it was concerning. His relationship with Moon was reasonably amicable even on the longest of days, he worked better with Moon than without, so the absence was unusual as much as it was alarming.

Alone with his thoughts for the foreseeable future, Sun decides there is little point to sitting around in the midst of this confusion when he could be using the time to busy himself with more important tasks, such as tidying up all the apparent dust around here. Better yet, he can get a head-start in preparation for that day’s activities. Something to keep his mind from wandering into worrywart territory, at the very least.

An ache stemming at the tail of his exoskeleton twinges with particularly horrendous vengeance upon finally convincing his legs to move. He buries the vocalization of a wince and carries on across the carpeted room with little more than a brief mental note to mention the pain to a mechanic if it worsens by tomorrow. No use in wasting company time for what he’s sure is only the result of one or both of them landing wrong after receiving a hug from one of the daycare’s more excitable children (or several).

Still, it makes the process of retrieving a stray toy from the floor that much harder when he sees it lying in wait by the slide. If anything, bending down to reclaim the doll only exacerbates the ache until it grows into a proper sting, now difficult to ignore. Yet ignore it he does, to the best of his ability. There are things to do and he isn’t about to let a pinch of soreness slow him down now. No, sirree! He has play equipment to wipe down, craft supplies to ready, and–

and…

His hand stops just short of reaching the doll, long yellow fingers curling inward, against his palm which is painted with splotches of salt and pepper, as though a bottle of dully colored glitter glue had exploded across his fingers and hand. He straightens again and lifts his other hand, noting a similar stretch of television static, one that carries beyond his wrist up the length of his forearm in smeared blotches and specks like splattered paint in dirty snow hues.

Messy messy messy. What could Moon have gotten up to that resulted in such a mess? He’d have made a face, had he a nose to wrinkle in the first place.

Instead he allows for one small tut of disgust to escape his voice box before turning his attention back to the doll, taking note of the static that stains the carpet beside its head, and just beyond it, too; a trail made up of one scattered drop after another.

Ever curious, he knows not what to do besides follow it, hoping for an answer to the many questions burning through his system. Each continuous speck leads him in the direction of the exit, every patch of static more plentiful than the last, and as he allows the strange color to guide him forward he begins to question not only its existence, but why it all seems so familiar, as though he’s seen it somewhere before.

There is little time to mull it over. He arrives at the service desk where the trail ends abruptly, and Sun pauses with the toe of his slippers stood just an inch before a stray, black shoe that might have sent him stumbling face first into carpet had he not already been looking down. A shoe isn’t the most bizarre thing to lose in a daycare of all places, and he decides right away that it isn’t anything to worry over, just another item to drop into lost and found, but where there is a shoe there is bound to be someone missing it and, well…

Sun finds the answer he’s looking for just a few inches behind the service desk.

Face down and tucked in on themselves as they are, cloaked in the desk’s shadow, it’s impossible to tell anything about the person beyond their age, and even that is somewhat uncertain — though the size 9 shoe left behind offers a decent clue. This discovery does wonders to quell the anxiety in Sun’s chest. An adult was much easier to escort from the daycare, given the lack of parental contribution it necessitated, and it looked like this one was just sleeping! An odd place to go about it, sure — against the rules, most certainly — but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a purposeful tap to the ankle.

So, that’s exactly what he does. Bending dramatically at the knee, head swiveling to one side, Sun’s fingers dance as though he intends on tickling the trespasser awake before extending his index finger and tapping twice in quick succession against the exposed skin between their pant leg and sock. “Rise and shine, friend!” He chirps, “It’s time to head home now.”

He’d have preferred the tried-and-true method of rousing someone (that is, a gentle rock of the shoulders), but given that their guest was currently resting in the one area that Sun was not permitted entry to, he was forced to resort to more…creative measures. Unfortunately, this action does not yield the results he is hoping for.

“Friend?” Sun calls again, allowing his voice to raise a decibel from the polite mumble it had been before. The laughter that cuts from his voicebox is nervous and too loud on its own, his anxiety returning tenfold. The points of logic he had used to reassure himself before were now quickly dwindling with each passing second in which he received no response.

With his steps now admittedly growing frantic, Sun tiptoes around the desk to the other side, hoping for a better view of their comatose companion. What happens instead is an almost comical flailing of limbs as his slipper takes to an unseen puddle of static like it were a banana peel, resulting in a scramble to keep himself upright that only comes to an end when he braces against the nearest wall for support. The distraction is agitating, but short lived. A commotion like that would surely have awoken anyone, no matter how deep in slumber they were, and the continued lack of response does nothing to relieve Sun of the stress threatening to fry his circuits.

“Friend, this is n-no time for jokes!” He asserts, speaking at full volume, now, every word drenched in tense frustration. His gaze falls to the puddle of static soaking into the bottoms of his slippers, that twinge of recognition rearing its head once more. “I’m not in the mood for games, right now, so if you’re only pretending to sleep—” his hand comes away from the wall feeling wrong, the familiar sensation of sticky static blanketing his palm and crusting in the grooves between his joints as it further dries. His fingers curl into a loose fist long enough to observe the way each digit smears against his palm and leaves behind a tacky residue that he can feel, but not see.

He looks up. There, on the wall, two handprints interrupt the static. The first is larger, an obvious testament to the humbling misstep he’d only just finished recovering from, but the other…it was far smaller, surely left behind by the same stranger currently snoozing away beneath the desk, and it ran from the lightswitch down down down to the floor, where the accusing hand now rested just outside the desk’s shadow.

How strange, Sun thinks, tilting his head to get a better look. The way the static paints their skin, it almost looks like—

“You’re doing so well, dewdrop, just a moment longer and you’ll be right as rain again!” Sun gives the small hand intertwined with his own an encouraging squeeze as the other, equipped with an antiseptic wipe, dutifully dabs away at a scuffed knee. His young patient, having tripped and burned her skin along the carpet, is nothing less than a trooper as he cleans the static from the shallow wound. Not even a sniffle!

He tucks the wipe into the flat of his palm and trades it out for ointment, smearing a healthy dollop of it along the reddened surface before wiping his finger along the striping of his pants and reaching for a bandaid; Chica pink with pizzas on one side and cupcakes on the other.

“There, now. I’m sure that feels better already!”

Blood. Viscous, cold, pooling at his feet. On the walls, the carpet. His hands. Cherry red like a lollipop and twice as sticky…or so he’s told. Nothing a robot of his nature is meant to see or understand. His censors make sure of it. Rather than allow him to see things are they are, the incarnadine color is suppressed behind a layer of static, as if he won’t care to acknowledge it at all beyond its existence on scraped knees and split lips. As if he is meant to ignore the way it feels in its abundance, caked against his palms and festering between his open joints.

Messy, messy, messy. He feels dirtied beyond repair, filthy in a way that even a deep cleaning won’t fix. The wires in his stomach feel twisted, begging to come undone, shorting like sparklers against their ports and threatening to make short work of bringing him down. His screens are flooded with alerts that warn of an inevitable shut-down if he can’t manage to pull himself back together, but moving feels impossible, an insurmountable task. He can not think past the sensation of someone else’s life soaking into the cotton of his slippers.

And what of their guest? Sun can hardly get himself to look again, pleading with the matter of logic itself as he is forced to reckon with the knowledge that this is a rest they may never wake from. But he does look. He has to.

He wishes he hadn’t.

The brief glimpse he endures before looking anywhere else is more than enough. From this angle, the static – the blood – paints a grim picture. In spite of this, Sun finds himself circling the desk a second time and preparing to draw the body – the visitor – out from under the desk. It is a daunting task, but a necessary one, by Sun’s account. If there is nothing to be done in such a hopeless situation then, at the very least, he owes this stranger the dignity of recognition and an attempt. He can claim to have looked for a pulse. Even so, he hesitates.

There is not one to be found; Sun knows this. He knows painfully well from the static lingering on his silicone that it is already too late. Oil is warmed by the processors it fuels, and similarly, blood is meant to be hot. The soles of his slippers are cold. The pads of his fingers, against even the raging inferno of his overworked circuitry, are cold.

The body is cold.

He perseveres, regardless, dragging the stranger out from under the desk by a shaky grip on their ankle one inch at a time, pausing every few tugs to look away and regather his confidence, trying so, so hard to tune out the ever-constant music as it merrily sings through the speakers.

He begs the underlying silence. “Please have a pulse.” Tug. “Please don’t be cold.” Tug. “I don’t know what to do.” Tug. “I can’t do this alone.” Tug. “You have to wake up.” Tug. “Please.” Tug. “Please!” Tug. “Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple—”

He knows this visitor. Not a friend, but not quite a stranger, either. His scanner attempts to process the identification of a man whose head is so thick with static that it returns as an error. His face is contorted grotesquely, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with fear. They don’t look like they’re sleeping.

A security guard whose name fails to ping in his registry. Sun had spoken with him once, maybe twice before. He drank coffee by the mile and hardly stuck around long enough to do more than complain about the weather. Sun hadn’t been in a hurry to befriend the man, but he only wished the best for him. Squeezed a joke in where he could in an attempt to turn his frown upside-down. It had never worked before, but Sun was no quitter. Now he would never get the chance to try again.

“Focus, focus.” Sun carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the carpet again, choking on the sensation of bloodied clothes slipping through his fingers and resisting the urge to tear the rays straight out of his faceplate in response. He is inconsolably panicked and at a loss for what to do, two steps from outright laughing, the complete absurdity of the situation driving him to hysterics.

He needed to call security. He couldn’t call security. Security was–

Management. There were other employees that worked the night shift if Moon complaining about them making too much noise during naptime was anything to go by. If he sent out a general call for assistance surely someone would come and tell him what to do, even at this late hour. It was his best option. His only option.

“Don’t.”

The voice makes him jump clear out of his casings. He has half a mind to swear, but as it stands, Sun thinks the long divots he dragged into the service desk out of surprise are enough damage already. On top of everything else.

“Moon?” He whispers. “Nice of you to finally join us – and by us, I mean me and the deceased guest I discovered a moment ago. Do you have a clue what’s going on here?”

“Don’t?” Sun echoes, agitated, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

If the tether keeping his sanity intact was fraying before, it’s now down to a single thread. “Why not?” He asks with great exhaustion, “Did you not hear me? This is an emergency! There is a dead body in the–”

“Call management.”

“I know.”

Silence answers. Despite having a hundred and one snarky retorts building in between each crackle and pop of his voice box, Sun has nothing to say to that. Nothing good, anyway. It takes nine steady ticks of the clock for him to recollect his thoughts.

“You…you know?” He stutters, “How could you…” but he doesn’t finish the question, and he doesn’t need to. Realization strikes him with an iron fist for the second time that day and it is no less kinder than the first. “Did… you do this?”

It’s Moon’s turn to go quiet.

That silence stretches on for what feels like hours to Sun, each passing second more agonizing than the last, until he starts to believe Moon had simply disappeared like before. He waits, and waits, and finally decides to interrupt the silence with a repeat of the question, despite already knowing the answer. Moon beats him to it.

The tired sigh that escapes Sun’s throat is thoroughly earned. “Well, it’s too late to figure something else out, I already sent out the emergency ping.”

“Not sure,” he says, and Sun can tell from his tone that it’s the truth. “Blurry. My head hurts.”

A sound like nothing he’s ever heard before tears itself from Moon’s voicebox. A growl, if he were to put a name to it.

“Get rid of it, then.” Moon insists through the noise, “Clean up, clean up.”

“It?” Sun gawks, “Moon, that – that’s a person. He has dignity, a family!”

“Had a family,” Moon corrects, “dead, now. No dignity. Who will they blame?”

The question gives him pause. Surely there was a better way to go about this, a solution that didn’t have his morals (and wires, for that matter) all up in a twist. Yet the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes Moon is right. Management hardly listens when he tries to explain that it was the children who broke a piece of playground equipment, not him! They aren’t likely to give his explanation of simply having found the body any mind, much less understanding. With his counterpart practically admitting to the heinous act, already, informing management of the body would sooner see them decommissioned.

“Running out of time,” Moon reminds him, “Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick–”

“Alright, alright!” He wails, “What should I do, then?”

“Clean up.”

“Where?” Sun looks around with the desperation of a teenager attempting to play hooky, rays practically nonexistent with how he’s tucked them away. His eyes search the room from top to bottom before landing determinedly on the ball pit.

“Good enough,” Moon tuts, a rather uninspired response to the happenings around him. Of course he isn’t panicking, it isn’t him who takes the body by its ankles and drags the dead weight across the carpet. It isn’t him who shoves aside enough plastic to carefully hide a corpse in. But it should be him worrying, it should be him panicking, because if management finds out about their secret, it’ll spell doom for both of them.

“You’ll get rid of it – him – properly once there’s no one around, right?” Sun finishes reshuffling the ball pit, mostly confident that the ill deed is successfully hidden from view. “I’m going to have to wash each and every one of these balls before the kids arrive in the morning.”

Right, the kids. When they arrive in just a few hours, will he have things tidied up? Will he be able to carry on as though nothing happened? He’s a brilliant actor – or he used to be, anyway, before the company decided he better fit the role of a nanny – but this is well beyond the scripts he is most familiar with.

“They’re close,” Moon warns him, “Don’t let them see–”

“I know, I know.” No time to dwell on it now, he makes quick work of crossing the distance between the ball pit and the exit, and manages to slide his head and torso through the gap between doors within seconds of it opening, scaring the living daylights of the poor employee sent to greet him in the process.

Unlike Sun, they do swear, clutching a hand over their chest and fitting him with a downright awful deadpanned stare. “Fuck, you couldn’t have waited a few seconds longer for me to come inside?” They hiss.

“Sorry, friend! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Sun chirps. He is careful to keep his bloodied hands safely tucked behind his back. “It’s just a mess in here, is all, and I’m rather embarrassed. There’s still equipment to clean, toys to organize, papers to fold–”

“Sure,” the employee interrupts, “It doesn’t really–” they pinch the bridge of their nose, exhaling with notably less exhaustion than Sun is feeling right about now, “I don’t particularly care. What’s the big issue that I was called down here for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if the next shipment of wipes had come in, yet. Like I said before, much to do! Always busy, busy, busy!”

Their stare turns into an outright glower. “That’s why you called the emergency line? For cleaning supplies?”

Sun shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Well, that’s an emergency to me. Apparently our standards are not the same.” He watches them roll their eyes with more enthusiasm than necessary. ”Do you know how messy children can be? It’s practically a barnyard in here, every single day, and don’t even get me started on how much of a health code violation it would be if one of them were to pick their nose and then–”

“Fine, I get it,” they snap, “I’ll make sure your damn supplies are delivered before the daycare opens. Anything else?”

“Told you they were annoying,” Moon chimes in.

“That’s everything!” He replies, “thank you a mighty amount, friend!”

“Mhm,” they mutter, waving him off with nothing more than the noncommittal sound. When they do turn to leave, it’s not soon enough, and Sun just barely manages to close the door with a whisper instead of a slam.

His back rests against it a moment later, and he allows himself to collapse from there, sliding down the smooth wooden frame until his tailbone reaches the floor. His knees twinge as they tuck against his chest, and he folds both arms atop, resting his temple against them and taking one long, much needed moment to just breathe.

It had only been half of a lie. There was much to do, much to clean, and only so many hours remaining to get it done. The wires nestled deep in his chest had calmed, yet the tremor in his hands continued, as it likely would until the very last speck of blood was washed clean.

“…Moon?”

“Hm?”

Sun tucks his knees ever closer. “Why…why did you do it?”

“…”

“I w-won’t be mad, promise! I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding, after all – a one time event, no biggie! But…was it out of anger? Fear? I mean, did he hurt–”

“In my way,” Moon replies.

Sun’s head lifts from the dark haven his arms provide, noting with growing exhaustion that, for the very first time, the lights felt too bright even for him. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, “Did he keep you from doing something?”

“…I don’t know.”

Again, Sun’s head falls against his arms in defeat, and again, not two seconds later, it lifts, determined not to lollygag any longer.

His legs creak with vocal effort as he gets back to his feet. “Well, no point in dwelling on it now, I suppose. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He takes in a wide view of the daycare – static trailing everywhere – and deflates with a sigh. “Guess I better get started. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner we can forget about all of this.”

He takes a step forward, and only that, swiveling on his heel when he catches last night’s roster from the corner of his eye. A single drop of static had landed and smeared across the name of a child meant to go home later in the evening.

Strangely enough, it appears they were never picked up.

Sun shrugs, gathering the paper in both hands and crumpling it into a ball to dispose of the smeared evidence. A simple mistake with the roster, that’s all it is. The parents often forget to sign their name after all. Accidents happen all the time!

The paper lands with a soft thunk in the nearest trash can and is just as quickly forgotten. Sun pivots towards the play area once more and heads for the supply closet, steadfast in his determination to be cleaned up on time, and feeling more confident than he ought to be about how things ended, all things considered.

More than anything, he is just happy to have all of this behind them.

[ofallthingsnasty]

after hours

Pairing: Dog!Hybrid x F!Reader Tags:  teratophilia, smut, slice of life, established relationship, knotting, creampie, slight domination loss, (unexpected) piss marking, smidge of possessive behavior, reader wears glasses, minors dni Word count: 2.7k Summary: Your hybrid knows how to make your evenings better, although he can get a little overeager sometimes.

Note: This was an attempt at writing a simple pwp in a short-ish amount of time. I managed to do just that and am really happy with that! It might not be the most polished, but it was still fun. I hope you enjoy and requests are open!

Coming home after a long day of work tastes sweet. There is nothing like slipping off your fancy shoes to feel the floor through the fabric of your socks with aching feet, nothing like turning on all the cozy lights in your apartment and taking a hot shower to wash away the sweat and dust of the day. It’s the thought that makes the way home bearable, that makes you hurry to catch the earliest train home, even. You rarely - if ever, really - come home without being utterly exhausted from fluorescent lights and endless phone calls, craving the comfort of your own home. But by far the sweetest of it all is the welcome your hybrid gives you every single day. Mind stretched thin like gossamer and eyes prickling with exhaustion, you heave yourself up the very last flight of stairs to your apartment, eager to spend the rest of the night on your couch, enjoying a home-cooked meal and the company of your handsome puppy. It’s all you crave at the moment.

Finally reaching your apartment, your key barely turns in the lock before the door flies open already and you almost fall into a pair of strong arms. “You’re home!”, Hunter bellows and swarms around you, busy hands plucking at your lunch bag and your coat, happy to help to get you into your shared home. He stands tall above you, shaggy hair (god, does he need a new haircut already?) disheveled and tail wagging itself into a frenzy. You watch it go left to right and left again, disappearing for a fraction of a section behind his back until it pops up on the other side, white-tipped and bushy. He isn’t the most delicate - your keys land on the floor with a distinct ‘clink’ as he almost rips the sleeve of your coat over your dominant hand, his thick fingers come on a little too strong while he peels you out of your scarf, leaving your blouse ruffled and almost knocking your glasses off your nose. He’s overexcited, as always - but behind his clumsy, rushed movements lies love and the desire to spend as much time as possible with you. He is your first and only hybrid - adopted after being given up due to the cost of his care by his previous owners. He can be needy at times, but he’s always sweet - you couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Cooking, cleaning, companionship - he offers all you’ve ever needed in exchange for a loving home and your heart. Hunter is the biggest, most adorable goof and you love him with every fiber of your being. “Did you have a good day at work? Got much done?”, he blabbers while hanging up your coat and plucking the keys off the floor, tail still showing his excitement. “Did you check out that bakery you wanted to go to for lunch?” You smile at his antics, at the way the words gush out of him while he busies himself with puttering about. “Today was good, I think”, you grin, fumbling to keep the lunch bag he is trying to take from you. “I even got you something!” His movements immediately stop and his ears perk up in wonder, dark eyes sparkling. 

“Really? What is it?” Pulling a wrinkled little paper bag from the cotton, you swing it around, soaking in the joy that emanates from him. “Something for dessert.” The hug you’re promptly tackled into squeezes the air from your lungs. Swaying under his massive weight, you laugh, the exhaustion of the day swept away with the gesture. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-”, he starts but the rest of his gratitude gets swallowed up by kisses pressed to your cheek. You let him hold you for a bit, savoring the feeling of his warm body against yours, his comforting scent. There is nothing purer than watching him get so pumped over something so small, how the littlest things amaze and charm him. You’re truly lucky to have him in your life, to be able to come home to him every single night. At this point you can’t quite remember what it was like without him - and you don’t wish to.

He only pulls away after you nudge him a little, promptly going back to busying himself with getting you settled, even whines when you don’t let him untie your shoes but goes back to his busy contentment when you scratch him behind his floppy ears, a smile on your face. “I can do that myself, puppy”, you say. And you do just that. With your feet in cozy slippers and your tired arms two bags lighter, you stretch and put your nose up into the air as a rich scent wafts into the hallway, hearty and warm. You inhale deeply, stomach growling in anticipation. “What are you cooking, puppy?” His whole face lights up at the acknowledgement and he beams at you. “Lasagna. After your recipe.” “Oh, wow. You spoil me. When’s dinner?” You swear he couldn’t look happier than he does right now, though his brows furrow just a second later. He clears his throat and his ears flatten with nervousness, the change almost jarring. You only shoot him a questioning look - clumsy as he is, he often breaks things around the apartment. And as docile as he is, he usually thinks you’ll be awfully mad at him, resulting in him beating around the bush until you grow impatient. “Can we- first, can we-”, he starts, voice almost whiny. Whatever he has planned on saying - he doesn’t finish it, instead interrupts himself with a desperate whimper and presses your hand to his crotch with big, pleading eyes. “Oh–”, you gasp softly at the rough feeling of taut jeans under your fingertips. He’s unmistakably hard through the fabric.

You can’t say you’re surprised at this outcome, either. It’s an almost daily occurrence with him, at this point - whether it’s because his libido is just that high or it’s his way of showing you how much he loves you and you him, most days end with you sore from his knot.

“Hunter!”, you laugh out in fake offense, his name on your tongue making him shudder. “Please, please, can we?”, he stutters out, cheeks slowly turning red under your cryptic smile.

You had been aware of hybrids and their particular needs when you first brought Hunter home - for some people, it was the main reason to get them, even - but you didn’t expect him to be that needy. Not that you mind - but never in a million years had you thought you’d be the type to go to work with bite marks and still leaking his cum from last night, barely able to sit. There is no shame in it, of course. You pride yourself in being a good caretaker. He takes your silence as an agreement and pulls you close, eyes already glassy with need. “I’m still sweaty from work- oh-”, you protest - or at least try to, as he’s already fiddling with the buttons on your outfit. “Don’t mind”, he mumbles and then bends down to bury his face in your neck to demonstrate just how much he doesn’t. “You smell better like this anyway” As if to prove himself to you, he sniffs your skin just below your jaw and the sudden flow of air tickles so much it makes the hair on your arms stand up. Humming against your neck, he begins to bite and tease your pulse point until you shiver under his ministrations, your very last bit of resolve melting away. Still, the faint smell of your dinner tickles at the back of your mind. “What about dinner? Isn’t it still in the oven?”, you breathe out. Your hybrid’s needs or not, you aren’t keen on burning your apartment down in a fit of carelessness. “No”, he hums into your skin, then licks it, his tongue rough and hard, pushing itself right into you. “Haven’t put it in yet.” You can’t help but chuckle at that - beneath the facade of a loyal, clumsy hybrid hides a little schemer. “Alright, alright.”

Now with your agreement he’s desperate to strip you down, almost rips the buttons off your shirt until gently push his hands away and open it yourself. The moment your bra is revealed to him he groans and grabs your breasts, kneading them through the fabric. You have no doubts that he’d fuck you right here on the floor until your knees ached if you were to let him, especially as his nipping at your neck turns into biting, teeth sharp enough to sting. When he starts to pull at your pants, you intervene. “C’mon, let’s get on the sofa at least, puppy”, you say, a sentence you’ve used more than two dozen times by now - it’s not your preferred spot by any means, but too many days has he gotten too excited and fucked you on the rug in the hallway, much to the chagrin of your knees.

He whines with impatience but is easily placated with a peck to his cheek and you pull him to the living room. You can barely let go of his hand and reach for a blanket - he all but pummels you onto the couch, back hitting the cushions with a dull thud.

“Puppy-!”, you gasp, a clear warning. “Careful.” Hunter nods eagerly but his gaze is still stupefied, his mind clearly somewhere else.

Grabbing you by your hips, he flips you over as if you weigh nothing, fingers threading themselves into the soft fat of your belly. You land, face down, in soft cotton.

Another shocked puppy, no! spills from your lips as your head gets pressed into the decorative pillows, your plastic flames creaking in protest under the pressure. “My glasses!” And this time, he listens. He’s off you in a second and you turn to your left, world now slightly smudged.

“Sorry, sorry”, he whines behind you, genuinely apologetic. “Forgot about them- ” Reaching for the frames, you pluck them off your nose and blindly throw them on the coffee table, a task severely hindered by the dozens of little kisses and licks he’s peppering all over your back as an apology, his touch almost tickling you.

To his credit, he waits for your nod to continue, his eyes sparkling when you smile at him over your shoulder. He eagerly goes back to making quick work of your pants, tearing them off your legs in a matter of seconds. One final snap and the elastic of your panties is pulled down to your knees, your cunt finally exposed to him. Hunter does little to prepare you - too desperate to fuck you, he just spreads you with both hands and licks one rough stripe over your pussy, whining when the sensation makes you tremble. The rustle of fabric is your only indicator for what is about to come: he hastily shoves his own pants down and rubs his cock against you in all of its entirety, slipping between your lips and making you tense with anticipation. Your cunt aches for him, just as much as it did the first time - and his desire and love for you makes quick of your arousal, as always. You both moan as when he finally enters you, the feeling unlike anything else. He reaches deep in this position and although not over average length, he’s so thick you almost feel impaled. Wasting no time, he immediately sets a pace so fast that it leaves you drooling. It’s uncoordinated and a little clumsy - his grip on your hips loosens and slips and he switches over to supporting himself on the couch instead, with his stomach touching your back. The feeling of his warm, sweaty skin on yours, his teeth in your shoulder and groans in your ear is enough to make you forget about the world around you. He almost moves you off the couch with the power of his thrusts, sheer instinct taking over. You’re only able to brace yourself against the impact by burrowing your face into the soft material, wailing just as loud as he does every time he slams into you. He’s eager like this, eager as always. Relentlessly chasing his own relief, he works you well  - his cock moving in and out of you feels like some kind of sweet, almost stinging pain. The sensation builds with every push, with every nibble of his teeth on the delicate skin of your shoulder. You let yourself fall into it for a good while, nothing on your mind aside from the way your bodies connect with each other, how he fucks you silly. It doesn’t take him long to swell inside of you - as impatient as he is outside of the bedroom, he is in bed, after all - and his anatomy betrays him. “Careful with the knot”, you groan, trying to lower yourself onto the couch again. You’re all too familiar with it and know how to make it tolerable at this point.

He listens, even if only half-heartedly, and obediently follows your hips with his, trying to maintain his speed all the while. Not a heartbeat later Hunter moans and pushes himself as far as possible into you, reaching his peak with bared teeth and a growl. Shooting his load deep into you, the feeling of him filling you is enough to push you over the edge as well. You pant and gasp while he lets out an almost high-pitched moan in response, happy to have you fucked stupid on his cock. “I need to- I need to-”, he whines while his knot inflates - it stretches you beyond your capacity and you hiss in discomfort. The burn is almost unbearable but you breathe through it, wait until the pain turns into pleasure. “What do you need? Use your words-”, you can barely press the command out, too focused on the feeling of being unnaturally full of him. It comes out harsher than expected, but he doesn’t seem to mind, gasping at your guttural voice. “Please, I- I need to mark you-”, he grunts, running a sweaty hand over your back. “Need to show everyone that you’re mine.” Before you can ask him to elaborate, he chokes behind you as if overcome with something, then his muscles go slack. It’s hot and wet as it fills you - you can’t help the way your cunt flutters around his knot at the feeling. Still high on your own orgasm, the sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt - but even through your hazy mind you realize that he isn’t cumming a second time - he’s pissing inside of you. “Puppy, no!”, you cry out, genuinely shocked but too tired to scramble away from him - not that it would help you, knotted as you are. He ignores your words, simply continuing to relieve himself, his full weight on top of you.

You can only take it - and the initial surprise melts into a little sting of humiliation, a sudden realization that even though you are the one in charge he can easily hold you down and have his way with you. It’s weirdly intoxicating, to feel so powerless, so small when you should be anything but. He might not have done it to dominate you, but that’s what he’s doing with this gesture and your legs are trembling with another wave of sheer arousal - even as he stops pissing inside of you, you can’t help yourself from moaning at the feeling of liquid in you, the knowledge that he just did as he pleased. You stay intertwined like this for several more minutes, you basking in the afterglow of your orgasm and the embarrassing revelation and Hunter in utter bliss, instincts finally satisfied. His knot goes down with time and, just many times before, you wiggle beneath him, signaling for him to get off you. He complies. The sound is downright unholy as he pulls out, the splat of fluids on your sofa enough to make you cringe, the fabric now undeniably ruined. Hunter only shoots you an embarrassed smile over your shoulder and you frown, already calculating the ensuing costs of getting the stain out in your head. “Bad boy!”

[speedingkamori]

Jealousy | Scout x Reader

Warnings: once again just a short little story to get back in the swing of things.. not proof read/edited, a bit angsty, GN! Reader, characters might be a little OOC it’s been awhile ._.

Scout never considered himself to be the jealous type- I mean? Why would he? He was handsome, funny and clever… but things changed when it didn’t seem like you thought that.

You we’re different, he’d never felt like this about anyone before. He was head over heels and watching the way you fawned over the other mercs drove him crazy.

You two were close, so he was always there when you’d smile so sweetly at Medic and say “thanks doc! You’re the best! I can always count on you!”

The way you’d compliment Heavy’s muscles, having him lift you up of the ground or feeling up his arms. It felt like you had something to say about everyone on the team, everyone except him.

It all came ahead when the two of you we’re hanging out with Sniper, watching him shoot a few targets just to waste time. The two of you were talking quietly amongst yourselves when you looked over, watching as he knocked down a target that was so far away you could barely see it.

Much to Scouts displeasure your attention shifted.

“Woah! That was amazing!” You exclaimed. You placed your hand on Snipers forearm. “You’re a real good shot! I’m impressed!”

Scouts face immediately dropped, his brows furrowing as he glared daggers at the two of you. Sniper chuckled softly, waving away the compliment.

“Nah, it was nothin’… anybody could hit that.” He shrugged, a light blush dusting his cheek that Scout was uncomfortably aware of.

“You’re kidding! I certainly couldn’t…” you shake your head.

“Why don’t you give it a go?” Sniper gestures to the gun. You seem hesitant at first before laughing nervously and slowly taking the gun into your hands. Snipers hand finds it’s way to your hip as he adjusts your positioning, speaking directly into your ear to give you advice.

Scout lost it, he’d never been so angry and hurt before. He immediately scoffed and left, slamming the door on his way out. It didn’t take you long to trail after him. You called out his name but it fell on def ears, only until you were close enough to grab onto his arm did he finally turn around to face you.

“Where are you going? I thought we were having fun…” you say quietly.

You found it hard to look into his eyes when he was this furious. He clenched his fist but didn’t yank his arm away from you, something about your touch calmed him even now.

“Fun? Sorry I don’t really think it’s ‘fun’ to sit around and watch you two get cozy with each other…” he spat. He watched as your face fell. You sputtered, trying to think of what to say but the only thing you could buster was a meek.

“Sorry…”

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “No, no. Don’t be. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for! You’ve made it pretty clear I’m not the one you want! I’m sorry for thinkin’ I had a chance!” He looked away, a few tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’ll just go runnin’ back to Miss Pauling with my tail between my legs…”

“Scout, please just listen.” You beg, your grip on his arm tightening.

“I’m tired of listenin’…” he tried his best to steady himself, his breathing becoming uneven and he kept his face turned away from you. “Because the only thing I ever hear when I do is ‘Engie you’re so sweet! Wow Spy you’re so cool!”

If the situation weren’t so tense you probably would’ve laughed at his impression of you, his voice cracking as he tried to pitch it up. There was a long uncomfortable silence between the two of you before you finally found the courage to speak up.

“Scout… I think you’re the coolest.”

“What?” He looked back at you, blinking a few times like he heard you wrong.

“I think you’re cool… and funny.” You sighed. “You always make me laugh, and you’re always there when I need you.”

He cracked a small smile, it was bitter sweet hearing you say everything he wanted to now when there was a threat of losing him.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better…” he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. Despite all the hurt it was nearly impossible to stay mad at you.

“No I really mean it… and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” You step a bit closer, giving his arm a gentle squeeze in an attempt to reassure him.

“Why are you tellin’ me all this now?” He asked, his expression souring again.

“Because I’m realizing now how bad I messed up.” You sighed, your gaze falling on the floor. “I thought, if I made you jealous… you’d finally make a move.”

Scout was a bit taken aback, he thought being subtle was what girls liked- that’s what spy had told him anyway. Although, the more he thought about it, it made more sense. To avoid making you uncomfortable he had been avoiding you quite a bit.

He began to laugh, the absurdity of the your misunderstanding settling in. He reached his free arm around you, gently scratching the back of your neck.

“Well, it definitely worked.” He said quietly. “I really didn’t like seein’ you getting so close to the other guys…”

You couldn’t help but laugh with him as you blinked away the rest of your negative feelings.

“I know, I’m sorry I put you through all that…” you smiled sheepishly. Scout snorted, leaning down to talk into your ear. Now that he was certain about your feelings he was planning on laying it on pretty thick.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, doll… although, how ‘bout you make it up to me over dinner?”

[egrets-not-regrets]

After Stormbreaker: Fluffy Charm

Of Fin and Feathers AU: In the aftermath of the incident with the Grey Knight, more bonds are formed. Kona follows Kiri attending to Kalium, who finds himself charmed by the fluffy guglet.

Author’s Notes: This is a callback to my Alcyon/Amelia fic “Dandelions and Yarrow” where Kalium is bonded to a little kid in the Husbandry au. I thought it would be cute for him to be bonded to a kid here too.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis

“But Mama!” Kona whined, tugging on her mom’s wingtip, “I don’t want to go to the creche! I want to see what you and uncle Talos is doing!”

Kiri sighed, at a loss as to what to do. Somehow Kona snuck her way out of the creche and to the healing ward where she was about to work. The gannet harpy stared down at her guglet, her lips pressed thin in a hard frown.

“Kona! This is no place for little guglets. You can get hurt easily here.” She explained, frustrated by her child’s insistence.

Kona shrunk under her gaze, “Please Mama…? One time?” she asked plaintively.

Zariel passed by the pair, having listened to their conversation with amusement. Curiosity is a good trait and could develop into a helpful skill. Who was he to not foster this learning? Plus sometimes one can get interesting and potentially valuable information out of the mouth of babes. He chuckled, “Kiri, Kallium is your first patient. He’s rather friendly and the least intimidating compared to the rest. He is safe if you want to take Kona with you while you attend to him then drop her off at the creche after.”

Kiri flushed with embarrassment, “Oh! Thank you, Zariel.” She turned to her child, whose feathers were fluffed with excitement, “What do you say, Kona?”

“Thank you Uncle Zariel! You’re the best!” Kona yelled as she enthusiastically hugged his tentacles (being so small).

The Alpha Legion apothecary snorted then tapped the guglet on the forehead, “You behave and listen to your mother, understand? Not all mers around here are friendly so she is trying to keep you safe. If I hear otherwise, I will tell Talos not to make any more treats for Kona.”

Kona let out a gasp of childish horror. Uncle Talos made the best treats, “Nooo! I will be good and listen to Mama!”

“Good! Now off you go.” Zariel chuckled, patting Kona on the head with a tentacle. He turned to Kiri, “I am nearby if you need assistance.”

“Thank you.” Kiri smiled back at him.

She went and gathered new bandages, healing potions and a bucket of water. Then she instructed Kona to carry a basket of clean cloth with them as they made their way to where Kalium rested.

Kiri greeted the venomfin mer, “Hello Kalium. How are your wounds?”

“Hello Lady Kiri. Doing better now with your tender care!” Kalium teased her, cheerfully lifting up his tail to show the newly healed wounds.

“Come off it Kalium! Just Kiri is fine.” She giggled. For an Iron Warrior mer, Kalium was almost ridiculously social and friendly. So very different from his more serious and stoic brethren like Captain Broug and Erriox. Perhaps it’s because Kalium is on the younger side? From the moment that Iron Warrior mer had been awake, he’s been quite chatty, talking to anyone (any harpy, really) with a listening ear. As if to make up for all the time he couldn’t talk his brothers’ ears off.

Kalium honed in on a little presence hiding behind her mother’s wing, “Who’s this fluffy dust ball?”

Kona huffed with childish indignance and popped out from her hiding spot, “I’m not a dustball! I’m a harpy!”

Something about the talking fluffball made the Iron Warrior instantly delighted, “A harpy? Where are your wings then?” he chuckled.

The little guglet spread her wings wide, showing the short flight feathers, “See? I’m a harpy guglet!”

“Guglets are what we call our hatchlings who are too young to fly.” Kiri added while she cleaned off one of his healing wounds.

“How long does it take for them to be fully flighted?” He asked curiously.

“About a year after their flight feathers are grown to full size.”

“I’m learning to fly!” Kona piped up. Impulsively, Kalium snatched up the guglet, who let out a surprised screech. The tiny guglet weighed nothing at all and felt like a puff of cloud in in his hands.

“Kalium! Please be gentle with my baby!” Kiri called out. In her panic, she nearly dropped the healing potion as she reached for her guglet.

The Iron Warrior kept Kona out of her reach, “I will! Don’t worry Kiri! She’s fine!” He won’t hurt his hatchling harpy.

Over the initial shock of being grabbed, Kona giggled and flapped with joy, held securely in Kalium’s large hands, “Mama! Mama! Look! I’m flying so high!”

Kiri let out a relieved sigh, her raised feathers slowly relaxing, “She’s my only child so please be careful with her.” she pleaded.

Kalium lowered his hands and switched over to carrying Kona in the crook of one arm. She leaned against his chest, churring contentedly, listening to his hearts beat. He was surprised by the sudden urge to protect his little harpy that soon settled into a calm joy that he never felt before. He looked at Kiri, who only smiled at him.

“You certainly have a way with children.”

“Only this one, perhaps.” He smiled back as he cuddled Kona against his chest. Was this a bond? This sudden claim that this was his baby harpy to care for and protect? He’ll have to ask Zariel or Osteron about later. For now, he’ll focus on keeping the little one safe and happy.

Kiri handed Kallium a low grade healing potion which he promptly drank. She commented, “It looks like your injuries are healing very well. This should be the last needed dose to mend all the wounds you have. Once an apothecary gives you one more check, then you should be good to go.”

He felt a sliver of disappointment at hearing that he would be leaving Kona and the gannet harpies behind. He will definitely need to mention this possible bond to an apothecary sooner than later.

Kalium’s grip tightened on Kona slightly when he saw Kiri get to her feet amd start packing away the soiled bandages and towels.

She gestured to her guglet, “Let’s go Kona. Say goodbye to Kalium! We should go back to the creche.”

“But Mama… I want to stay with Kalium…”

Kiri sternly reminded her hatchling, “Kona, I promised Zariel that you can meet Kalium then go back to the creche. I need to care for other patients here too, so we can’t dally any longer.”

“Kiri,” Kalium’s voice cut in, “You can go ahead and tend to the others. I can look after Kona.”

“Are you sure?” Kiri asked him skeptically.

“Yes.” He grinned as Kona cheered.

“Please please Mama? Can I stay wit Kalium?” Kona begged her mom sweetly, putting on the puppy dog eyes.

She felt rather scandalized when Kalium looked at Kona and decided to attempt to copy her guglet’s expression. For a big Iron Warrior merAstartes, this one sure can be rather childish. Must be the age.

“Please…?” Kalium added. Was that a pout she saw? It’s definitely the age, she decided.

Kiri sighed, relenting to the pair, “Alright. You two be careful then.”

“Will do.”

[the-literary-legacy]

(◕‿◕) 𝔻𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝔸𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕝 (•◡•)

WE ALL WANT TO KNOW!! WE ALL HAVE OUR THOUGHTS!! HERE IS MIIINNEEEEE!! This is really hurting my eyes to read so plz don't kill me '^')/

WARNINGS: slight cringe, short, Angel being a h*rny creep, Alastor lashing out at him, everyone loving his tail

Alastor.... Also known as the radio demon!! His voice sounds like he is talking out of an old radio (YES I KNOW HIS LORE!!) but does he have a tail? well!! today is the day we find out lovlies!! (let me use my super awesome magic cool super super powers to create you a story of when Angel Dust walked in on Alastor taking his coat off!)

\(OoO)/ Magic story spawning in 3....2.....1... BEGIN!!

Angel has always tried to flirt with Alastor. so what better time to flirt then when he is in the shower? (don't worry this is family friendly!) Angel waited for hours when finally Alastor was about to get into the shower, Angel couldn't wait. He snuck over to the bathroom and realized it was locked, yet he managed to get it unlocked quickly. Angel opened the door and didn't see anything, slithering his way in quickly. And there he was. ALASTOR!!! WITHOUT A COAT ON!!! and.. he had a tail?! Angel stood in shock seeing the tail, to think an overlord had a cute little deer tail! Alastor turned around and starred at Angel for a hot minute before his jaw dropped. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!" Alastor snapped, he grabbed his cane and large black tendrils came out of the hole in the ground, grabbed Angel, and chucked him out of the bathroom. Alastor walked out of the bathroom shortly after and started scolding and snapping at him, meanwhile the Husk, Charlie, and Vaggie heard them. They rushed over to see what was happening and stared only at Alastors tail, he looked so cute!! who could blame them? Even Husk was loving it. "Alastor! you never told us you had a tail! it's so cute!!" Charlie spoke up and came even closer to Alastor "I DON'T- wait- what? what did you just say?" Alastor was in shock by everyone loving his tail. And for the rest of his eternal life, they will tease him about it.

Hello lovlies!! you all are amazing if you made it this far!! remeber, the requests are open 24/7 on weekdays!! don't be shy!!

have a wonderful day!

[nelapanela94]

you should write about how the reader would be treated on their birthday!! from fluff to smut, i want it all (and definitely not because its my birthday tomorrow)

Warnings: Female bodied reader, Fluff and smut, post war.

Happy Birthday (delayed) Anon!!!! I hope you had a great day. Sorry for the late reply but this week was leaden with work and on top of that I had an allergic reaction to a medication.

I hope you like it!

Frightening, tantalizing.  

Vertigo.  

At what point did life begin to sound different? At what point did he stop seeing you as just another comrade? Perhaps when you fell wounded in his arms, or when you spent all night with him when he caught a fever that makes you hallucinate? The world tipped under his feet and your thunderous laughter turned into a silky caress.  

The buttercream is not smooth enough, and with three fingers he pins the last dot of Happy Birthday! A little choppy but readable. The two brain cells left in your head will catch it. For the first time you moved in together, he does not grumble for you waking up late on a Sunday; he is glad, indeed, that you are still snoring under the duvet. He rose before the sun to bake and decorate the cake, to sweep and mop again, to festoon the living room with balloons and confetti. Great! More to clean after, but Gabi and Falco convinced him with puppy eyes. And as long as it makes you smile; it is all worth it.  

From your room breaks a yawn and the trepidation ripples through his nerves. He hangs the apron and dusts off his hair from remnants of wheat flour. Then takes a last look to the kitchen-slash-dining room. Happy Birthday glints in gold on the walls.

Water gurgles in the sink; he puts aside the piping bags and the scraper and sets the cake stand in the middle of the dining table.  

“Levi?” The balls of your feet pat-pat on the wooden floor. “Why are you awake so early?” The creaking at the end of the corridor is his cue. He clears his throat, but his voice lacks glee and enthusiasm.  

“Happy birthday.” 

Yet your eyes spark, you cover your gasp, and relief soothes him. 

“You… Levi!” You dash with open arms and pounce on him in a tight, air sucking hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You shriek, but all his brain can process is the smell of your hair. Rosemary, ginger, a tinge of sweat.

Air plunges back into his lungs, and you pad to the table. “You didn’t have to! You even made a cake.” You swipe a finger on the white cream, and hum as the sweetness coddles your palate.  

Levi smiles.  

You are lucky to keep your inner child. The ability to marvel at trivial things.  

“May I?” The tail of the ribbon swirls around your licked finger. Levi nods and you pull the lace. The brightness in your eyes intensifies, a heart-melting smile curves the corners of your lips. “No way!”  

A dress. A dress you spot on a display once roaming the most exclusive neighborhood in town. The dress you have spent months saving for. The shimmery maxi dress with a deep v neck, opened back, layered skirt. Revealing but far from slutty, skimming your hands.  

Your eyes shift to him. “This is too much, Levi.” 

“We can return it to the store.” He says, meaning, it is never too much for you. You drop the dress on your bed and rush back to the kitchen.  

“Can we have cake for breakfast?”  

“Uh-huh.” He rummages through for a knife and two plates while you flit around the place with your camera-last year’s present-freezing in time the wobbly cake, the decoration, Levi covered in confetti and other cake ingredients; but it is so hard to focus on something else other than your bare legs, those pajama shorts hardly concealing the end of your ass.

To burn with desire and keep quiet is the worst of tortures, and he himself is the executioner. He controls himself, brushes the salacious thoughts away.  

You do not leave a crumb on your plate. “Keep an eye on me or I will eat it all before dusk.”  

You look pretty, with messy hair and puffy face, with that old T-shirt that is close to becoming a cleaning rag.  

“Are you listening?” 

He raises his brow.  

“I’d like to go on a walk today. I don’t know, you and I…” You blush. “I was wondering how your leg is feeling.”  

“Good.” He piles the dishes and heads to the kitchen, stainless steel clattering on porcelain. “It’s your day, we can do whatever you want.”   

You notice his limping, his face twitching in discomfort, the shifting of weight from leg to leg.  

“I’d like to stay at home all day.”

He peels away his eyes from the foam, and stares at you. He does not flinch, just stares. Waiting. You moist your lips but the words clog your throat.  

Levi, wine, living room dance, souvlaki and agioritiki from the restaurant down the street for lunch.  

“I’ll take a shower,” you say, striding back to your room.  

Levi wipes his hands dry and flops on the couch. His head rolls toward the corridor that leads to the bedrooms, and he sighs. Nothing pains him more than your pity. You giving up your plans because of him.

Chopped, half blind, scarred. Crippled. His body does not respond as it used to, his muscles have faded along with his strength. He chuckles at the absurdity not to cry. He would never be enough. 

His good eye darts to the pictures on the coffee table, Hange thumbing up with a beam on their face, and he scowling with folded arms on the chest. Pins of nostalgia that hold us without permission; how selfish is the clock . The remnants play in his mind like kids in a merry-go-round.

His eyelids are leaden, and finally, the weariness washes over him.  

When he wakes up, the window is open, the balmy breeze of the Indian summer tosses the curtains. The temperature has risen, and he glances at the wooden clock across the room.  

11:30  

Flimsy snores stir him, and his eyes go wide when his consciousness switches the notch back to reality. Your shoulders rise and fall steadily, and your feet dangle over the armrest. You are snuggled on him, your warmth fondling him. The spaghetti straps of your white top slings around your upper arm. Nothing divulges the presence of a bra. He tosses his head back and focuses so his blood continues reaching every corner of his system, avoiding a cluster of red blood cells in his groin.  

“Levi.” Your sleepy voice coats his name in lemon and vanilla ice cream. He cracks open one eye. “You always smell so good.” You mumble, making him smirk. He feels like he is walking on a mined field. The wrong move and he will obliterate everything. But your lips are plump and dewy, and he cannot stop himself from dragging a finger along the curve of your mouth. Suddenly, your eyes blink open, but he does not back away. You stare at him, your lips parting for him.

You shift your weight, wriggling up until your foreheads touch.  

You cradle his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs on the curve of his cheeks. His fingers linger on your back. You can feel his erratic heartbeat against you, his breath stroking your lips.  

“Kiss me.”  

His eyes flick from your mouth to your eyes searching for any hint of doubt, repulsion, or regret. But the shackles have always been tied to his feet.  

“I know you want it too.” You whisper. “Kiss me.” 

He nods, his nose bumps yours, a tease that makes you giggle. Slowly, you lean in, your breaths mingling. His lips touch yours lightly, pull back, and this time, they lambaste you. Time stands still, and in that fleeting moment, you feel an electric connection that sends shivers down your spines. Your lips are juicy as passion fruit. His heart leaps between two elements: excitement and fear. The fear of hurting you, the fear of rejection, the fear of losing you. But you kiss him back, and the walls of the fortress he built to protect himself crumble at his feet.

Panting, he pulls away, his fingers thread in the unmoored strands of hair on your back. Your cheeks are ruddy, and a shy smile peeks on your lips. Your pupils have drowned the color of your eyes, tiny diamonds glinting in their depths. Levi kisses your cheeks, your nose, the arches of your brows, tips your head up and drops kisses in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, your nipples are firm like bitsy pebbles, a tingling sensation fluttering in your lower belly. You rake your fingers through his hair, your hands tangling in the back of his neck. You kiss him again. A kiss filled with longing, desire, and a promise of sweet surrender. Passionate, urgent, needy. Igniting a grenade.  

“I want you.” A moan breaks from your mouth, and your desperate hands slip down his body, fidgeting with the button of his pants. A playful smirk curls your lips when you notice the painful strain under his briefs. He pins your hands off him, warning you with his gaze. A point of no return.  

“Are you sure?” His husky voice is like a path of gravel. And you would gladly walk barefoot.  

Without breaking eye contact, you nod.  

“Pieces of you are not enough. I want you all.”  

He wraps his arms around you, trying to coax those three words from his chest. His hands sneak under your top, moving around the smooth hot skin of your back, trailing the knobs of your spine. Your breath rags, and warmth spreads under your navel, aching with desire. You unravel from his embrace, and the wood slabs fret under your feet. You swiftly discard your top, loosen your hair, and hurl it back.  

“Beautiful.”  

You bite your lips, hands trembling. You sit astride on his legs, his hands roaming the supple skin around your hips. The tenderness and lust with which he looks at you makes your soul tremble and assures you that he is the one. “Touch me.”  You guide him to your breasts and then you leave him in his own devices. His eyes are full of love, admiration and awe; quivering hands explore you. He tweaks your nipples between his fingers and wheedles a gasp before taking one into his mouth. You loom closer gripping the back of his neck, releasing the coiling tension by rocking your hips against him. Your skin is hot and burning, glowing like an ember, searing under his touch. No man has ever made you feel this cherished and desirable, despite the scars on your skin, vestiges of the battles.

Your nipple pops out of his mouth, his lips paving the road in the valley of your breasts to pamper the neglected side. His tongue swirls around the hardened peak, captive between his teeth.

"Holy shit!" You hiss, pain vanishing and giving way to pleasure.  

His name drips from your mouth, the throb between your thighs driving you insane, ravaging any trace of rationality. You urge him, pulling his head up by his hair, and catch his ravenous gaze. His smug smile pinkish and sodden. He pushes you off him, and you veer to the side, landing on your knees. Then he tugs you by the back of your knees, dragging your butt to the edge and kneels between your legs, caressing the back of your thighs.  

“Please” you bring a finger down the curve of his nose. “Fuck don’t make me beg on my birthday.”  

“I’m not that of an asshole.” He grins, raises your hips, and pulls down your bottoms with one hand. Pushes your legs open and presses kisses on your inner thighs. Your slit glistens with the urgency of being touched and filled. You close your eyes, and your fingers dig into the cushions. Breath itching, heart racing. You turn off your thoughts and insecurities and just give in to the pleasure of his fingers thrusting inside you, of his tongue laving your engorged clit. A spool of moans bursts from your mouth, and your hips jerk forward, seeking solace, prompting him for more.

Your neighbors better plug their ears.

He pulls his finger out, leaving an aching void. But the disappointment fades at once. Nasty suckling sounds fill the living room, drool runs down his chin. He parts your lips with his tongue and glides it flat from your asshole to your clit. Your eyes bang open as two, no, three fingers plunge inside you, rocking back and forth, hitting that spot that draws constellations on your skin. He knows where to touch, where to lick, where to nip, your body opens to him at its own will. Your walls spam and contract around his fingers, his tongue doing wonders, circling and flicking on your clit. Your knuckles lose their color, and strangled whimpers shatter your breathing. You bite your lips and your back arches in a beautiful bow, and all the tension dissolves into waves of pleasure.  

“Levi Levi LEVI!” You wear out his name, pumping up his ego. He does not let you catch your breath, and instead, he drowns you with your taste on his mouth. Your resistance is a tickle on his chiseled chest. He lays you on the couch and undresses, your hair tangled and soaked in a crown around your head. You turn your head to the side where his clothes fall to his feet, your gaze skimming up his legs, relishing in his erection. The head of his fat, veiny cock grazing the trail of hair that chalks all the way down. You lick your lips, wondering what it would feel like inside you.  

“I want your cock inside me.” You blurt with grabby hands, cajoling a genuine laugh. His body is beautifully sculpted, his muscles flexing with the slightest move. “You’re so fucking handsome.”  

“You should write poetry.” He quips, shaking his head. But you throw a cushion at him. 

“Come here, my pussy needs your cock right now.”  

He crawls on top of you, parting your legs with his knees. “Are you sure about this?” He leans down, his elbows pressing into the foam, and kisses you again. You feel the tip of his dick poking around your entrance, tempting. You curl your hand around his length, coaxing a little gasp form him, and rub him up and down your wet slit. You find the entrance and spur him to move forward. Haughtily, he nudges your hand of the way. “Too nosy.”  

He states at you. The ends of his silky hair grazing your forehead.

The infinite always tries to hide in your eyes.

“Just fuck me,” you whimper and kiss him, wrapping your arms behind his head. His chest pressed on yours as he pushes in, inch by inch stretching you. “Mmmm, Levi.” He is halfway in, and your pussy is working overtime to take him all. His frazzled breath fans the cradle of your neck, his lips quivering at the ambrosial sensation engulfing him. He relishes in your warmth, your tightness, your body adjusting to his size. 

“You feel so good, you feel so good.” You mumble, raking your nails down his shoulders and back.  

“Are you ok?” He rises by a fraction to look at your ruddy face and brushes away a strand of hair.  

You nod, and smile at him, mapping each one of his scars with the tip of your finger as he remains nestled inside you. Two stars lost in the infinite, you and him, that converged in this life. “It’s you what I’ve always wanted,” you coo, caressing his hair. “You always protected me, Levi. Now, let me take care of you.” You press a light kiss on his right eyelid, and blinking the tears away, he casts a tender smile. His soul sparks and his skin frissons as he rocks his hips, grunts wrenching out from his chest. His pretty sounds fall into your ear, your bodies zooming in and out at a luscious, lazy pace.  

You embrace him as if there was a way to get even closer, as if you could trade atoms with every thrust. You bite your lips, holding back moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your nails carve red half-moons in the back of his shoulder as e increases the tempo, desperate to take you to the edge.  

“FuckShitFuckShit, Levi. Fuck, don’t stop.”  

His cock twitches, his hips stutter, his last thrusts are erratic as if he can’t control his movements anymore. You mewl his name, your gut tightening, as your conscience slips out from reality. He pushes deep into you one last time, groaning his repertoire. And your walls flutter around him, milking every last drop of him.   

The world whirls and he loses his balance. Vertigo.

Before he collapses, he mutters, “happy birthday.”

[bloodfin]

hi yes hello having some thoughts about hands and rings and did you ever think about how 🤌🤌🤌 it is to watch someone play with the large collection of rings on their hands? how intimate it is to watch them take the rings off, one by one,,

raindrop drabble below

It was the anniversary of Rain's summoning, and Dew wanted to make the evening special. He spent all afternoon making Rain's favorite meal, and then ended up ordering it for delivery when he burnt half of it anyways. At least his not-too-sweet fudgey brownies came out well, if the noise Swiss made when he sampled one was any indication.

But Dew couldn't focus on his meal, couldn't focus on all the plans he had made for after dinner, with Rain looking like that. He had sauntered into the dining room in the single tightest black pants to have ever been made and a flowing white shirt with long, fancy sleeves. He had even dove deep into his jewelry collection, adorning his horns with a few rings, changing out his earrings, and adding a short pearl necklace.

But where Rain really went all out, as if the fine layer of mascara and high dusting of dark navy blush wasn't enough, were his hands. Every finger had at least one ring, his ouroboros ever present on his right index finger. Some were at midi-length, some stacked. All types of gold and silver, varying in intricacy and stones. In particular Dew's eyes were drawn to the blood red ruby that sat on Rain's left pinky, glinting in the candlelight.

He was salivating, and as good as dinner was, that wasn't why.

"You with me droplet?"

Rain's deep voice shook Dew out of his lustful haze, just long enough for him to snap his eyes to meet Rain's.

"Of course love," he smiled, eyes dropping back down to Rain's hands as he began to spin the ouroboros, slow and steady.

"Sure?" Rain smiled, head cocked dangerously to the side. "You seem a little distracted."

Dew flushed. "Maybe a little."

Rain hummed knowingly. He knew exactly what he was doing when he got dressed for this dinner, pulling out all the stops.

Dew sucked in a sharp breath when Rain reached across the table, studying his hands. He only wore a midi ring himself, preferring the jewelry that decorated his ears and the spade of his tail.

"So much real estate," Rain purred, studying Dew's long, skinny fingers. "We could always get you a few of your own."

Dew hummed, curling his fingers into Rain's, leaning down to kiss the back of his hand. He was pressing a line of kisses into Rain's knuckles when he snapped his eyes back up, Rain's words settling deep into his brain.

"Unless, of course, you'd rather wear one of mine."

Dew looked briefly down at Rain's hand, still clutched in his own, before dragging his heated gaze back up. His mouth was suddenly dry, his temperature slowly increasing.

"Please."

Rain smiled, pulling his hand from Dew's, examing the jewelry adorning his fingers. Dew couldn't help but stare, watching as Rain twisted each ring off of his nimble fingers, far too slow for his taste.

He chose to round the table, nuzzling into the side of Rain's neck so he could see better, listening carefully as Rain gave little details about a few pieces he wore.

"This was from you, shortly after I was summoned. It's too small now, which is why I wear it here."

He pulled off the midi ring on his right index finger and dropped it onto the tablecloth, the ouroboros below it remaining untouched.

"Mountain found this one," he explained, the dark silver twisted band joining the simple gold one on the table. Dew couldn't help but to press open mouthed kisses against Rain's neck and jaw, whining at each thunk on the table as another ring joined the ever growing pile.

"Now this one," Rain breathed, pulling the ruby off his pinky and turning it in the light, "is special. I had it engraved."

Dew squinted to see the small writing on the inside of the band, something no one but Rain and he would ever know about. His hands squeezed against the chair, the words good boy staring back at him. The ruby he'd never seen before, that so thrilled him, was meant for him all along.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Rain went to set it on the table with the rest.

"No," he whispered, reaching out to take it in his own fingers and slide it back onto Rain's. "Keep it on. Please?"

Rain hummed, turning his hand in the light.

"You're sure? The edges can be sharp, just like someone I happen to know."

Dew started nodding before repeating just how sure he was, pressing another kiss under Rain's ear.

"Wanna earn it, don't you," Rain rumbled, turning in his chair to stand. He took Dew's chin in his hand, feeling him swallow hard as his teal gaze bore into him. It would be a night of claiming, starting now. A renewal of every promise they ever made to each other, bound with a blood deep stone. Dew nodded his agreement, every plan to shove Rain up against their bedroom door slipping quickly from his mind, thanking Lucifer for the blessing that stood before him.

"Go ahead then, little one. Get on your knees."

[angstea]

how do i begin when the roof is ever changing?

Fandom: FNAF

Ship: Glamrock Fronnie

Series: Auctober 2024

<- Previous | Masterlist | Next ->

Summary: Freddy didn't go bowling during the day anymore. Everyone knew that.

AN: Freddy is autistic

Title is from Neath the grove is a heart by Yaelokre

Written for Auctober Day 19: Comfort Items

Read on AO3

Freddy didn't go bowling during the day anymore. Everyone knew that.

Only when the doors to the Pizzaplex shut for the night did he venture up to Bonnie Bowl, a morose expression on his face.

There was a time that the guests would regularly encounter Freddy and Bonnie bowling side by side, lighthearted competitive jabs exchanged as the pins fell and numbers on the scoreboard ticked up. Bonnie was always in the lead, obviously. But Freddy had been slowly climbing the ranks and catching up until he was in a steady third place, just behind a particularly dedicated guest.

He never did get to beat Bonnie. His scores had been wiped from the leaderboard after he disappeared. The thought made Freddy's chest ache.

Fazbear Entertainment had done everything in their power to make all evidence of Bonnie disappear. Freddy knew it was only a matter of time before Bonnie Bowl was rethemed and all the kids who remembered Bonnie would grow up and they'd stop asking where he went.

But Freddy wouldn't. He'd never forget if he had anything to do about it.

The doors to Bonnie Bowl slid open and Freddy made a beeline straight for the alleys. There was a time where Bonnie would have been waiting for him on the little stage. He would've hopped down from the platform, floppy ears twitching and a wide grin on his face. Not anymore. Never again.

Now, the room was dark and there was no Bonnie in sight. Just Freddy. Alone. He'd never known a world without Bonnie before this.

You and me, forever and ever.

He stopped dead in his tracks and clutched the bowling ball in his hands tighter. Freddy wasn't supposed to have it but he'd managed to grab it before the staff cleared out Bonnie's stuff. Because he knew they would.

Freddy turned it over in his hands, eyes landing on the signature scrawled across it. Bonnie's name stared back at him, the i dotted with a star and the tail of the e swooping upwards.

He diverted his course to the stage. Pulling the curtain aside, he stepped through into the room hidden behind. The place would be gutted as soon as another use was found for it. Until that point, Freddy swore to visit as much as possible.

His green room should have fallen into anarchy without Bonnie there to maintain it, but Freddy had taken up that responsibility. At first, it was because he wanted the room to tidy for when Bonnie returned. Eventually though, it was just for the sake of routine and feeling close to Bonnie.

Freddy slumped down into the chair by Bonnie's mirror. The vanity had a light coating of dust and the little statue of Freddy hadn't been moved so much as a millimetre. Everytime Freddy visited Bonnie, it was always in a different place. It was like a game. One they'd never play again.

Freddy hugged the bowling ball to his chest. None of this would make him stop missing Bonnie, but it made the hole in his heart ache a little less. A little.

"I miss you, bunny."

You and me, forever and ever

Forever had turned out to be a very short time.

[animeyanderelover]

Hey, can I request prompt #94 with Sebastian from Black Butler... perhaps with a neko darling if possible? And he's already kidnapped them so darling knows who he actually is? Thank you, I must have been blessed to catch your requests open!

It’s been a while, dear.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, overprotective behavior, obsession, mentions of abduction, darling can transform into a cat, darling has a tail and ears in human form, mentions of injuries

Prompt 94

"Is there a reason why you're examing me with such a wary gaze, my young lord?"

The demon didn't even have to turn around to sense the slight flinch going through Ciel's body when the butler pointed out the short glances the boy had constantly thrown in his direction whilst Sebastian had cleaned up the office. His young lord seemed to be confused about something that, at the same time, made him curious. Apparently he had thought that he had been sneaky whilst trying to observe Sebastian but he seemed to realize now that even he, a rather special human, couldn't outwit a demon.

Ciel cleared his throat, trying to hide his slight embarrassment.

"Well, it's nothing bad or anything...it's just..."

"It's just?" Sebastian repeated after him, still not sparing a single glance as he brushed all the dust off on the top of the shelves.

"You have been looking suspiciously happy these past few days. Genuinely happy. It's worrying me slightly."

Hmm, had he been too obvious?

"You sound like you think I don't deserve to be happy. Is my master really that cruel to not be happy when his hardworking servant is in a good mood?" he replied instead.

"If you'd be a human, I wouldn't worry. You aren't though and I've never seen you genuinely happy either so excuse my suspicion. I'm just interested what could put a creature like you in such a chipper mood. What happened?"

"Nothing that would distract me in my duties, master."

It was subtle but sounded a bit sharper than Sebastian's normal smooth tone, a vocal hint Ciel picked up. Whatever he was on to, his servant didn't want him to know about it. What Sebastian had told him though that it wouldn't interfere with the contract and even if Ciel couldn't deny the hint of curiosity, he decided to let the demon be for now.

---

You let out a huff in your little cat body as you tried to climb up a tree outside the little house. Your injuries made themselves known by the painful throbbing in your side and left hind leg.

Damn Grim Reaper. It was all their fault for getting so mad about you just wanting to get to know them better. Cats were from curious nature and whilst you might have gone too far by taking the dead body with you, slashing you hadn't been very civilized. You had just wanted to give them the little push, they had been after all so stiff and mostly anti-social.

"Should have gone for the one during the Jack the Ripper accidents. I've heard that one was a loud and boisterous one. Not such a prick."

Normally your enhanced immune system would have dealt with those injuries for the most part already but you were significantly weaker to wounds inflected by anything not natural. The fact that they had cut so deep into your flesh didn't help. At least there would be no scar.

If you wouldn't have been injured, you probably would have never bumped into this demon. Or at least not in such a humiliating way, half-dead.

A mate had never been something you had constantly searched for. Differently from stupid hounds who were essentially just reeking dogs who were clingy beyond tolerance once they had spotted their mates, cats were independent and free beings. Honestly, you had thought that demons would be the same. From what you knew they made contracts with humans at times and consumed their soul by the end of it. Utterly selfish but very cunning and dangerous.

This one though had looked ready to murder the culprit behind your blood-soaked little cat form, eyes turning magenta and pupils turning into slits that reminded you faintly of a rather risky encounter with a Naga you once had. Sebastian, as he had later on introduced himself to you, had picked you up with more care than you were used to, had taken you at first secretly into some sort of mansion where he had treated the worst injuries.

This house must have been built by him in less than a night, he had crafted it specifically for you. So when you had woken up, you had been in a completely different location. What had shocked you more had been the fact that you hadn't noticed anything though, although you assumed strongly that your body had just been too exhausted and that it had taken and still took much energy from you to heal yourself.

Now you weren't shy to admit that your mate was extremely handsome, you were sure that women left and right were swooning over him. He was also skilled in everything. He could cook, clean and had taken excellent care of you, although you felt often suffocated by his doting overprotective behavior. What creeped you slightly out though was the fact that Sebastian was a passionate cat adorer. You were pretty sure that if it wouldn't have been for your wounds, the demon would have long cuddled the living daylight out of you.

He was planning to keep you. That was your biggest problem as of now. You didn't want to be tied down to a specific person. Hell, you hadn't seen your own family and siblings in decades. You just wanted to explore and get to know other creatures. You had never planned to find in a demon your mate and you sure as heck wouldn't change your plans now. Whilst you sometimes were more cuddly and enjoyed all his doting and petting, you hated how he often ignored your private space and apparently had fun when you were hissing at him and threatening to claw at his smug grin.

Then all of a sudden the hair on your body stood up alarmed when you sensed the demon's presence approaching fast. Why was he already back so early? You had thought that you would have at least an hour more for yourself. You had barely managed to climb up half of the tree in your cat body, a rather depressing achievement and you knew that you would never make it on time back into the house. So you just did the opposite. You let out a silent growl as you basically jumped up the last meters of the tree, digging your claws in for stability.

Damn it all! You would at least climb up this tree! You refused to be coddled over the whole day inside a house filled with the scent of demon. A scent that shouldn't be as nice as you thought it was.

You let out a small hiss when you felt your wounded leg shortly giving away but were quick to find your balance again. A short satisfied rumble went through your body when you reached the highest spot where you could lie down on one of the trees. You picked up the scent of your own blood and knew that you had strained your leg too much.

You weren't the only one picking up the smell of your blood though. You could clearly see the demon now, noticed how he picked up his speed. It happened all within a few seconds, he had climbed the tree you had struggled with so much in merely seconds.

You could have done it faster if you would have been in better shape.

"Didn't I instruct you to stay inside and rest? Now look what you've done. You've reopened the injuries on our leg." he chided with less of this playful tease in his tone. You might or might not have gotten on his more serious side now.

"Let's get you back inside."

When you felt one of his hands sliding under your belly and lifting you up from the tree, you let out a angry hiss, claws tearing themselves in the material of his sleeves and successfully cutting into his flesh. But of course Sebastian didn't even flinch.

You hated it when you were touched without permission!

Within less than a second your body suddenly transformed, limbs growing and your fur disappearing as it was replaced by naked skin. You let out a proud noise when you managed to catch him off-guard and successfully kick him away with your uninjured leg. With nothing to hold you now you fell down although you didn't worry too much about that. In the last moment before you made impact with the ground you shifted your right leg so it would take most of the impact. You couldn't use your left leg too much or otherwise it would take even longer for your injuries to heal.

You sprinted right back into the house, the few hairs on your skin standing up when you felt the dark presence behind you. Oops, you might have made him a bit angry just now.

You wouldn't pick a fight any longer, for now you'd go back into the cottage. Goosebumps started to appear on your skin as the few hairs on your body weren't enough to keep you warm from the fresh temperature of earliest spring. You were completely uncovered now, naked. You hurried to the room with the bed and jumped from the doorframe into it, completely disappearing under the sheets.

It was cold! That was why you only used your human body on warm weather but right now could defend yourself better in this form. You were shaking from the cold a bit, all of your senses were otherwise focused on Sebastian.

From the more tensed air you could tell that he was slightly pissed off but tried to keep it down. You didn't take him as the type who would just lash out like that. You heard the slight steps on the stairs and the door being opened but after that he stopped. Right in front of your bed. You dared to peek your head out of the blanket, twitching cat ears standing up intently on your head, especially when you caught a whiff of his own blood. Had you hurt him when you had kicked him?

He was staring down on the bed with a unreadable expression on his face, angry looking red scratch marks on the one side of his head. Had you scratched him with the claws on your foot? Most likely. There was also his arm and the small scratches you had left on him in your cat form.

Oh, now you felt a bit bad about that. It was just that it always triggered you a bit when you were lifted up in your cat form or touched without permission.

Your facial expression changed from curious to guilty and together with the drop of your feelings came the drop of your cat ears who turned down on your head.

You noticed how his jawline clenched and unclenched, his previously glowing eyes returning to their red. The air lightened up a bit as he was looking at your head peeking up from under the blanket, looking at him. Wait, was he trying to suppress a smile?

"Aren't you angry with me? I hurt you and went against your words." you asked with a slightly coy tone, you weren't used to the feeling of guilt since you were most of the time a loner. Had it something to do with the mate bond?

Sebastian let out a sigh at first, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst shaking his head with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I am slightly angry, (y/n). Don't misunderstand. However, you make it hard for me to be angrier with you when you look at me like that." he answered finally, trying to look serious but the hint of amusement and adoration inside those red eyes failed him.

"Does it hurt? you continued to ask, wanting to get out of the blanket but as soon as a slight grace of the colder air hit you, you went right back under the blanket with a surprised hiss.

"I suggest trying to wear some clothes if you plan to stay in your humanized form since those few hairs on your body won't keep you warm. But before that let me take a look at your injuries."

You let out a loud sigh.

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes."

You grumbled a bit but removed carefully the blanket, hairs standing up even more when your previous source of warmth wasn't anymore. Now that you had no fur to hinder your sight, you were actually able to take a clear look. It certainly didn't look pretty but it had gotten better. If you were human, this wouldn't have healed as good as it did in those few days. Luckily the wound on your flank was fine.

There was a safer feeling now that you were in a larger body though instead of a smaller cat body which was why you didn't tense up as much when you felt his fingers tracing over the large and fairly deep scratch on your flank before moving to your reopened gash. Luckily it wasn't bleeding too stronlgy, a thin trail of blood oozing out.

You watched how he pulled out long white stripes from a box he had pulled out from the small night desk next to the bed, how he wiped away the blood and pressed slightly down to stop any more from flowing out. You couldn't help but jerk slightly when he did so but quickly straightened up. It was just a very mild stinging, nothing that would hurt you.

You observed how he wrapped those "bandages" around your leg again. You hadn't liked it when he had done it whilst you had been in your other form since your fur had been completely clotted due to the dry blood but you obviously didn't have to worry about that to such an extent in this body.

When he moved his hands away you gripped the blanket once again and threw it around your body, hiding your body from his eyes before he could look at it any longer. Not that this was what was bothering you as much right now as the cold. Being naked was natural for you.

"Here , wear this." Sebastian offered you, putting some clothes down next to you. You weren't wearing clothes very often but your family had taught you enough about human society to know which belonged where on your body. Not to mention your occasional trips where you mixed with all the humans around you. They had a fascinating world after all.

The clothes were from thicker material so they helped you from freezing. You stretched your body before burying yourself under the blanket again. You wanted to relax, wanted it to be cozy. You could still peek outside though and so you saw how Sebastian pulled out a second blanket from the closet in the room and put it on top of the other blanket which earned him an appreciated purr from your side. The warmer, the better after all.

You couldn't help but constantly look at his own injuries though, knew that those would heal slower than normally for him.

"What will you do tomorrow when you return to your master and those scratches will still be visible by then?"

"I'll think about something. I'd rather not tell my master about you for now."

You moved up from your lying position, eyes narrowing as you grabbed his head with your hands and tilted it to examine your scratch marks a bit closer.

"Are you sure that they don't hurt?" you repeated, seeing the fresh blood still glistening.

His eyes were staring more intensely at you as you were touching him without a hint of hesitance or shame. You were truly a cat. You did whatever you wanted to do. Such a charming mate he had~

"If I say that it stings maybe a bit, what will you do? Apologize to me and make up for it?" he asked you with the sparkle of playfulness returning to his side, leaning more into your touch.

You were from rather prideful nature so apologizing and admitting personal weakness were things you bristled against. However, you felt the throb of slight guilt rather clearly now that you were taking a closer look at his face. He had never hurt you and had instead given you some of the best food and place to sleep you had had the pleasure to experience since a longer while.

"...Maybe." you pressed out with a ever so strained voice. Gosh, you were rather bad in expressing your apology in words. You would do it just in your own way.

"Then it hurts indeed."

You let out a huff when you heard his words. Of course he would take full advantage of your weak spot but you didn't even doubt him right now. This had to hurt at least a bit most definitely. You had been the one inflicting those nasty scratches after all.

A warm and wet tongue was flicking over his scratches in the next moment, cleaning all the blood from it as you tasted for the first time in your life what demon blood tasted like. It was a bit of a peculiar taste but you didn't dislike it. You felt a bit insecure when you noticed his red eyes drilling into you, turning to slits but you were just apologizing the way your family had always done.

When you were sure that you had cleaned all the blood, you rubbed your own cheek gently against his, letting out an apologizing purr. He actually smelled nice so you found yourself nuzzling against his hair a bit, breathing his aroma in for a bit longer before you pulled away. You felt a weird heat in your cheeks, it had been a while since you had felt this embarrassed. You just weren't good in apologizing to others in your opinion.

"Was this enough to make you feel better?"

A shiver went through your body when you saw how he was looking at you. Had you done something wrong?

"You...", he started to speak, crawling closer to you and leaning his head closer to your neck, "Did you do that on purpose or do you really not know of any other way to apologize to me?"

Another jolt went through your body when you felt hot breath caressing your neck.

"Goddamn it, this is how my family always used to apologize. I know that it's for humans more insensitive but that's how we say sorry to someone." you defended yourself, pushing him slightly away from you. What was he even thinking?

"If that's the case you should apologize to me more often."

"Don't get your illusions up. That's the first and only time I'm apologizing to you."

A sigh left his lips, a delighted one, as one of his hands went up to tickle your ear, something you decided to let slide this once.

"You're just too cute, kitten. I want to keep you with me forever." he said in a slightly more cooing tone, lying down next to you.

"You want to?"

"I want to and I'm going to. I won't let my kitten mate leave me. In time you'll learn to adore and desire me the same way I do."

[alpydk]

In Memoriam

Okay, so maybe I did have to write something. Blame @judasiskariot

Tav goes to Gale's remembrance at the docks.

It was too cold, thought Tav to herself as she waited around on the docks, pulling her hood around her ears to block out the cool winter breeze. It wasn’t like that day under the dust covered sun during midsummer where she had stood there last, watching as Astarion fled into the shadows, as Karlach turned to ash, as streams of white light became specs of stardust falling to the river. One Tav knew he would have swum if still alive. Now clouds hung heavy in the sky, dark and foreboding, ready to let loose as the slightest provocation.

She had shed no tears since that day, over six months ago, her choices made, her losses accepted and healed. At least that’s what she had told herself as she kept adventuring along the Sword Coast: Baldur’s Gate, Cormyr if the job was good, Daggerford if paid enough. Never Waterdeep though, never there, no matter what the pay. It was too far to travel, she would say, the weather too harsh, the people too cold for her liking.

“Are you ready?” asked a faceless tiefling, one of the many they had saved during the battle for Baldur’s Gate. Was this the bard or the archer, or maybe even one of the wizard’s siblings? She didn’t want to remember, she knew as she nodded and followed behind, watching the lazy sway of the pointed tail before her. Saving them was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? The ends justified the means. Was she a hero? It wasn't important, she decided as she sat in the back corner amongst the other mourners.

Tav could see Tara perched on the lap of an older woman at the front. The feathers had greyed slightly and wisps of white fur dotted around the eyes that hadn’t been there before on that sunlit rooftop in Rivington. His mother was almost what had been expected, but something did not match the tales he had told of her. She seemed older, strong in the body but not so much the eyes, as if age had descended upon her far too swiftly and mercilessly. Tav lowered her head, pulling her hood down a fraction to avoid being seen. She had been invited to share tea with them at one point. That day had never come.

Amongst the mourners were old faces, all with the same lifeless expression, the shadows of the Fugue Plane brighter than any who sat in the congregation. Where were the tears? Or even the smiles, sharing stories of old, of wine and poems and bad knees? Where was he? A ridiculous question.

Jaheira stood at the makeshift altar. Too many times had she done these types of speeches, uttered words of loss and love, but they never came any easier. She spoke of what she knew, of her short time with him, of gods and their fickle natures. She made people laugh with a comment about hauling too many books. He would have appreciated the humour.

Tav heard little of the eulogy, her eyes drawn to the lingering clouds above, to the delicate snowflakes that floated through the air. It was too cold, much like the faces, much like the words spoken. Before she knew it, people were standing, each taking their time to approach the end of the dock to say a few words or spend a moment in silence gazing out onto the water. First his mother with Tara, then the people Tav had once known as friends. How could she face them? Especially on this day after the choice she had made. She had been the hangman. She had sentenced him. She was no better than his goddess.

The crowd thinned, Tav left in her seat, her hood shielding her from prying eyes as she watched the length of wooden planks reach out towards the Chionthar. She should have fought, should have done differently, should have stayed. Why didn’t she stay? Why did she abandon him and let him die, scared and alone?

Stepping quietly, the waves licked at the pillars beneath her, snowflakes melting on the water's surface. She didn’t know what to say. The projection had been clear about him being gone, so would he even hear her? Would he want to hear her? She whispered words she had held back, words she wasn’t even sure she believed. “I’m sorry.”

Her lip quivered. Just the cold. It was too cold, she reminded herself as she held her arms around her body to cease the shivering, to find a comfort that deep down she longed for but had denied herself. “I…”

Snowflakes met with salted tears, melting as her hand reached up to wipe them away. She would not cry, she’d told herself. “I need you… I love you…” she forced out, each word becoming too difficult to bear.

“Please… I’m sorry.” The words on her tongue almost burst from her, a long held back sputtering of emotion trying to break loose, a guilt fuelled orb of her own creation threatening to detonate at any moment. She felt the tightness in her chest, the ache of her knees as her legs gave way, the violent shake of her shoulders as the sobs broke free. Memories of nights under the stars swallowed her whole, her fingers dancing in his hair, his deep brown eyes gazing at her with hope. Hope that she had given him. Warm campfires and wine-stained lips choked her, poems shared, goddesses forgotten, love. Love she had given him.

“Please, Gale…please… Come back to me,” she whispered alone on that dock.

Tav was too cold without Gale by her side.

[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust |

Chapter 6

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, manipulation tactics, Weapons, Swearing, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, descriptions of clothing reader wears, explicit descriptions of weapon use

A/N: I’m back! The chapter is short but only because the next one is gonna be LONGGG. As always Thank you to the Betas, I owe you my firstborn child.

Word count: 2K

*******************************************************

Fire caught wood, sending sparks up into the air like fireflies. Y/N sat back as the fire began to grow, looking at the young boy next to her with a guilt in her eyes. “What are you doing there honey?” She asked, watching him pick at the fish they had caught. Caspian blinked quickly, regaining focus as he had been lost in thought. “Finishing Scaling the fish so we can cook it” he said simply, a questioning look at her as if his answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh I’ve never really done much fishing, District 2 isn’t actually much different from the arena.” She said, still watching him work “do you think you could teach me?” She asked after a moment of silence. “I’ll show you how to make herbal medicine for pain relief,” she offered. He furrowed his brow before nodding, “yeah ok that sounds like a good trade, my legs hurt pretty bad anyway.” He mentioned, motioning to the bite marks on his calves and thighs.

She perked up a bit, grabbing the tortoise shell and retrieving the small tin of salve “I actually have something for that!” She said with a small smile. unscrewing the lid on the tin and putting a bit of the medicine on each bite mark. She knew he was still upset about Meena, but hopefully a small kindness could help ease the tension a bit. As she finished she looked into the tin, realizing she didn’t have enough salve for her own leg ;she scrunched her nose but simply screwed the lid back on and set it down. They sat silently for a few seconds before he spoke “Finch said you were kind.” He said simply and quietly. She looked up from the tin and finally meet his eyes. “I try my best,” she replied, a tired smile on her face. He averted his eyes from her gaze again, looking down to the knife in his hand. He took the fish and turned to face her better, placing the knife right below the gills. “Watch carefully” he said, slicing into the fish.

He carefully removed the head and tail of the fish, pulling out the spine. He used the knife to scrape out the guts of the fish, pouring a bit of water on the meat to clear out any blood. Afterwards he expertly pulled out most of the small bones that remained, laying out the prepared filets. “That simple, might still have a few little bones but it’s the quickest and easiest way.” He explained. “Seems easy enough but I might need a few more lessons.” She said with a small laugh “I got about a third of that, plus to be honest I’m not sure I know where to cut quite yet.” She smiled. He smiled as well, grabbing another fish and starting to scale the skin. “How about I show you again tonight and then we can have more hands-on learning when it’s light outside in the morning?” He asked, “Good idea, because I can’t teach you anything until tomorrow when it’s light enough anyway.” She replied in a bit of a relieved tone.

He made quick work of the fish as they spoke, gutting and deboning it with skill and accuracy. The two squired the meat on sharpened sticks, holding them over the fire to cook. “How old are you anyway?” Caspian asked, raking a hand through his curly blonde locks. She sighed, a bit of a grimace on her face “turned 18 a couple months ago, it was my last year.” She said, pursing her lips. “Ouch rough business” he said, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Yeah it’s fine, not happy about it but I’m here so…” she shrugged, twirling her stick.

“Finch told us all about you, he’s been whining about it since the beginning. Apparently you’re pretty, thoughtful, kind and smart.” He teased. She wrinkled her nose and giggled, “you little jerk” she smiled “Maybe I am all of that” He only shook his head with the same smug smile “nah you seemed much better in the stories.” He further teased. “Oh I’ll show you punk” she smiled wider, “I’m totally awesome and super cool” she giggled.

He let out a boyish laugh, his sun kissed cheeks crinkling with the small dimples upon them. She twirled the stick squired with fish, a soft smile on her face. Watching the flames barely touch the meat, her mouth watered a bit. “When’s it done anyway? How do we know?” She asked, her attention fixed on the dancing flames. He shook his head with the same smile, “it’s done when it’s not that pink color anymore, then you gotta wait so you don’t burn your mouth.” He stated, once again, quaking an eyebrow like it was obvious.

“Well excuse me for not wanting food poisoning smarty pants” she quipped, once again scrunching her nose up in an upside down smile. “Maybe I’m kinda dumb when it comes to district 4 stuff but I’m pretty smart at district 2 stuff. I can kill a snake and I can get the venom from a scorpion pretty easily.” She grinned proudly. His eyes widened a bit and he inched a bit closer to her “wait really? That’s actually kinda cool” he nodded, waiting for her to say more.

“A few of the more affluent women in my district used to like to wear rattlesnake tails as jewelry. My siblings and I would catch them when we could and sell the tails to the jeweler in town. They threatened our cattle and set up burrows in the tall grass where they ate.” She explained. “And the scorpion venom was something I could sell too, it has a lot of uses both as a poison and a medicinal remedy.”

“You gotta show me how to do that, I can coat my spear in it!” Caspian said, his eyes full of excitement. “I dunno, I thought I wasn’t cool enough” she said with a smirk, her brow raising just as he had before. “I was kidding!” He whined, his shoulders dropping slightly.

She only laughed in response, ruffling his hair. “I’m kidding, you pretty much fed me tonight so of course I’ll help you.” She grinned.

He pulled his stick out of the fire and looked over the meat “speaking of food, it looks pretty much done” he commented, blowing on the filet. She pulled her stick towards her, examining it closely and poking her finger into the meat. She pulled back quickly, the food much too hot to even touch. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, blowing on their hot dinner and mentally willing it to cool off. After a while the meal was finally cool enough, the two teens eating their portions within minutes. It was a bit of a chewy meat but delicious nonetheless. After not eating for a while she felt she would’ve devoured anything at that moment. After they ate the wind began to slowly pick up, blowing stronger and stronger as the fire died out.

Caspian shivered as he backed into the cornucopia, curling up in a corner with his weapon in hand. Y/N did the same before looking over at the younger boy “sweetheart why don’t you come over here? It’ll be warmer together.” She suggested, offering a hand. He scrunched up his face as he thought for a moment before standing up and shuffling over to her. They sat shoulder to shoulder for a moment silently before she cracked a smile. “Can I put my arm around you? Promise it'll be warmer” she asked.

His blonde curls blew in the wind as he nodded, tucking his shoulder under her arm and smushing his cheek against her clavicle. She shuffled even closer and wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin in his hair. He exhaled at the warmth, closing his eyes in exhaustion. It wasn’t long until he was in a semblance of sleep against her. He reminded her of one of strays that roamed her families property, wronged by the world but still so willing to take a gamble on love.

“Sleep good sweetheart” she whispered, her words lost in the strong roar of the wind. She let her cheek rest on top of his head, closing her eyes and exhaling. Exhaustion took over her body, putting her to sleep despite the loud whipping of the wind.

The sun rose after only a few hours, it’s warm rays shining on the two teens. Y/n blinked her eyes to wake up, the gravely feeling of dust urging them to remain closed. Caspians wavy blonde lacks tickled her nose as he laid snuggled against her chest. She gently brought a hand up, petting his hair absentmindedly with a soft smile. “Time to wake up sunshine” she whispered, her hand traveling to rub his back.

The young boy mumbled a few unintelligible words, his bleary eyes squinting up at her as she grinned. “Good morning” she muttered, sweeping a lock of hair out of his eyes. He sat up tiredly, stretching and hunching over a bit “m’ exhausted” he yawned. “I know the feeling” she said, taking her jacket off and balling it up. She set it on his lap as she stood “why don’t you take a bit longer of a nap honey? I’ll look around for some breakfast.” She offered. He nodded slowly, putting her jacket under his head and curling into himself a bit on the ground.

She silently laughed to herself, looking out into the arena. She decided to forage a bit, try to see what she could find in an obviously more popular area of the arena. She wondered if the game makers had purposely put more food around for the careers or not.

The sun was hot on her back as she looked around the shining gold cornucopia, finding a few familiar sprouts of greenery. She couldn’t help but also track a few marks in the dust, it was obvious a lizard of some sort was roaming around.

Finding a small hole she stomped on it, sending a medium sized lizard fleeing. She quickly used the pitchfork she carried to stab the animal in the back. It let out a sharp cry as it quickly died and she winced. Picking up the scaled animal and setting it atop the foliage she had collected, she began to make her way around the cornucopia again. The sun was higher in the sky and she figured it must’ve only been about an hour.

Turning the corner she saw it, the sword plunged into the dirt,

She looked up from the weapon, her eyes meeting familiar brown irises.

Finch.