#on a lighter note i also want his eyes glowing in the dark like red stop signs or creepy flashlights lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watcheraurora · 2 months

Text

Abducted

I wanted to combine some ideas. This was the result. Happy reading 5.1k words

—

Scar groaned. Everything hurt. Which, by and large, was not a new experience for him. He was more than used to constant pain. Usually at a slightly lower level than this. But this time his head was also pounding.

He heard a familiar cough from nearby.

Peeling one eye open, he tried to lift his head—only for his neck to scream in pain and prevent him from doing so. Still, he could see.

Beside him on the spruce-wood floor, a head of fire hair burned low to its owner's scalp. Diamond armor—sans helmet—covered a red coverall jumpsuit and black utility vest.

Tango shifted slightly, sounding like he was hurting too.

Scar checked their surroundings.

They appeared to be in Tango's house. The steampunk cottage. Scar had gotten lost in here multiple times, but he knew they were on the floor with the big open balcony designed for landing and taking off with Elytra. Because this was the room with the bed. Which neither of them were on. Instead, they were splayed out, fully clothed, on the floor.

"T... Tango?" Scar asked. His voice was hoarse.

"Hey buddy," Tango replied, equally strained and raspy.

"You okay?"

"Head's pounding like you wouldn't believe, but nothing's broken." Tango managed to turn his head, his bloodred eyes meeting Scar's gaze. "You?"

"Same."

Scar tried to sit up. He'd been through pain like this, he could push through. He could—

Purple chains appeared around him, keeping him lashed to the floor. "Ah, ah, ah," a voice said. Feminine and unfamiliar. "You'll stay right where you are if you know what's good for you."

Scar and Tango both scrunched their brows and turned to follow the voice. Up another short flight of stairs, on another "floor" of Tango's M.C. Escher painting he called an interior design, stood a figure.

Definitely none of the Hermits. Her skin was so dark purple it was almost black, nebulae and stars constantly shifting, drifting over exposed skin. Her hair was long and flowing, played with by a nonexistent breeze, and only slightly lighter purple than her skin. She was dressed in black. A tank top and loose trousers. Barefoot. With a cloak on. The underside of the cloak was more cosmic sights, brighter than her skin. It billowed in that same nonexistent breeze that toyed with her hair.

Scar blinked when he got to her eyes. They glowed the brightest, most vibrant purple of all—and were actually glowing.

A sword hung on her hip. At first glance, he thought it was Netherite. But the metal of the blade was too black, and stars glittered on its surface too.

"Who are you?" Tango asked, a snap to his voice that showed he was more than a little displeased to have his house broken into.

The figure smiled. Her teeth were sharp. "You'll find out." She seemed to be half-obscured by shadow, even though Tango had lit his base up fairly well.

Then Scar realized those shadows were great black wings, towering more than a head taller than her.

He scrunched his eyebrows again. "Have we met before?"

She smirked. "No," she replied blithely. She raised a hand and examined her nails. Her eyes flicked up. A spectral, translucent eye blinked into existence on her forehead, glowing and large.

Pain burned in Scar's torso. Lava in his stomach and fire in his heart. He cried out, curling up on himself. Black crept around the edges of his vision. The chains didn't stop him. Tango ground out a noise of agony beside him, clutching at his chest through his armor.

It was over as quick as it had begun. Both Scar and Tango slumped.

"Hmm," the figure grunted, as though noting the weather. "Interesting. Still there, but only a single fiber left. I'd hoped so." She looked between Tango and Scar, her eyes focusing on Scar. "Now which one..."

"What—the he—" Scar couldn't even finish his sentence. He panted, his body reeling from the pain, even though it was gone. Tango was staring with wide eyes, pupil, iris, and sclera all indistinguishable from one another.

"Scar!" Tango stage-whispered, voice raspy still. "You okay?" He seemed to have recovered okay from the pain.

Scar didn't have an answer to that. It should have been a simple Yes or No. It wasn't.

"Um..." He shook his head. Spots were swimming across his vision.

The sky outside darkened as a crack of thunder resounded. So loud Scar thought his eardrums might burst. No flicker of lightning preceded it. Just darkness.

The figure in the next room smiled, showing those sharp teeth again.

In a ripple of black-and-purple shadow, another figure appeared right on the edge of Tango's balcony. The figure wore a black robe. One that fell directly to the ground, slits cut into the back for massive black wings. A black mask with a purple symbol like a broken Nether portal covered half the newcomer's face. The upper half. The hood of the robe was drawn up over the head. But not enough to block the light-brown bangs falling over the newcomer's forehead.

"You wanted my attention," a familiar voice snapped. "You have it." An otherworldly resonance accompanied the words. Like the words themselves were spoken by the thunder that rolled over the server again.

Darkness was radiating off the figure like fog, little flickers of purple occasionally visible.

The newcomer also wore a sword. The same starry black one that the one in the other room wore.

She was still smiling. "There you are, little bird," she crooned. "Come in, come in. Let's talk."

"Release Scar and Tango first. Then we'll talk," the newcomer spat.

"Oh, but if I release them, you won't listen!" the first shot back. She clenched her fist and yanked back. The chains reappeared, bright purple, showing she was holding them. Tango shouted in pain as the chains burned against his armor.

The newcomer growled. Animalistic and furious. Purple lightning flickered away from him. Scar... recognized the newcomer's teeth? Vaguely? Like he'd seen them smiling for years. "Let. Them. Go."

"Look at you, little bird. You've been the biggest, baddest being on every server you've been in since you left us and you think you can intimidate me."

The newcomer drew his sword and took a step deeper into the room. Barefoot under the robe, just barely peeking out from underneath. "I won't tell you again, Iris."

In a flash of purple, Iris was standing toe-to-toe with the newcomer, her hair and cloak whipping in a wind that Scar and Tango didn't feel.

"You ungrateful child," she spat in his face. Scar realized a mask had appeared over her eyes as well. The same symbol in the center. "We saved you. Gave you everything a Player could ever want—and still you spurned us!"

Several more eyes blinked into existence around the pair, hovering like clouds.

Tango and Scar glanced at each other, both still wrapped up in the ethereal chains. The tilt of Tango's eyebrows revealed a question he didn't dare speak out loud.

You okay?

Scar managed a nod. Yeah.

The other two began shouting at one another in a language Scar couldn't understand. Tango's brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. Like maybe he was picking up a word here and there. Scar gave Tango a look in askance. Tango shook his head subtly.

Scar caught the smaller of the two figures—the one with human skin and hair, the newcomer—saying his name again.

This time, his brain actually clicked into gear and he realized why the voice was familiar.

"Grian?" he asked.

"Ga-gah!" Tango exclaimed in surprise, giving Scar an alarmed look before his head whipped to look at the two figures.

Both figures' hundreds of spectral eyes immediately trained on Scar.

An overwhelming sensation of power rolled over him. Like high air pressure and deep water all at once. He popped his ears.

Another flash of purple light. Iris was behind Scar, her black blade at his throat and her other hand grabbing the back of his head. There was some sort of triumphant smile on her face. "Want to feel that last fiber of your old soulbond snap?" she sneered at Grian.

"Ho-kaaay!" Tango said.

Scar, whole body rigid, looked between Iris and Grian.

"Let him go," Grian said, calm, collected. Back in a language Scar could understand. Sword still in hand. Often, when his emotions were heightened, Grian had a tendency to screech. He did not. The sword in his hand was only loosely gripped. "We're talking, Iris. You don't have to threaten him anymore."

"You're coming back, little bird," Iris said.

"I'm not." Grian's voice still rung with otherworldly power. Darkness still radiating off of him. A glowing eye hovering at his forehead. "I'm never going back." Thunder crashed again, earsplittingly loud.

Grian spun his sword.

The shriek of metal on metal made Scar, Tango, and Iris recoil.

Apparently Tango recovered first, because his inhumanly warm hand had closed around Scar's wrist and was dragging him to his feet. "Flee with extra flee!" he said softly. Scar stumbled to his feet and staggered after Tango, who was leading him down a set of stairs.

Where the magic purple chains had gone, Scar didn't have time to find out.

Tango led him through the absurdly complicated stairs and floors that made up the interior of the steampunk cottage. His Blaze Rods made a rare appearance, rapidly orbiting his head. His fire hair was blazing big and hot. Somewhere up above, an unnaturally loud clang! of swords clashing grated against their ears.

"Where are we going?" Scar asked Tango as the latter pushed him toward a ladder in an open hole in the floor leading outside.

"Just go, just go, just go," Tango hissed, bracing his feet on either side of the ladder frame and sliding down it. Scar followed him down. Once his feet were on solid ground, Tango pulled him to the right. Toward the cherry blossom mountain Scar, Grian, Skizz, Impulse, Mumbo, Gem, and Joel had chosen to build their bases on and around. Which was odd. Scar had guessed that Tango was going to lead him to the Nether, where Tango tended to feel more at home.

Tango didn't let go of Scar's wrist. His Blaze blood kept his internal temperature much hotter than a normal person's, and his heat was prominent against the skin of Scar's wrist. Scar had on fingerless gloves with his zookeeper outfit and where the leather of those ended, Tango held on tight.

The two skirted around the massive hole Skizz had been digging to build up his pyramid in—Skizz had already built the first layer, deemed it too big, and torn it down, leaving the hole empty again—and ran across the treacherously narrow temporary bridge across the river. They readjusted course to head a bit more to the right. Toward Skizz and Impulse, away from Gem.

Tango's boots hit the deepslate ramp of Skizz's starter base, heading up for the castle-like tower with its greenish-blue S emblazoned on the front.

"Skizz!" Tango shouted as they ran up the ramp. "Skiiiiizz!"

"Hey dude!" The man in question dropped off a ladder. "What's up?"

"Can you do that cool thing you do where you do the hand wavy-wavy and all the sparky-sparklys appear and no one can get get close?" Tango asked.

Skizz blinked. "You want me to put up a ward?" he asked.

"Yeah-yeah." Tango nodded.

"What for?"

"Now would be good," Tango said, his head turning toward his steampunk cottage. It wasn't on fire—yet—so Scar counted that as a win. "Please."

Skizz raised a brow, but did as Tango asked. His hands sliced through the air. Yellowish-white light followed his movements and a sphere of faintly-glowing light shimmered around his starter base.

"Wanna explain to me what's going on now?" Skizz demanded.

"Scary tall purple lady knocked us out and hurt Scar to get Grian's attention. They're currently fighting in my base."

All color drained from Skizz's face, leaving him ashen. "You're joking," he said in a tone that said he was not.

Tango shook his head, fire hair flickering.

"Are you two okay?!" Skizz demanded, looking them both over. He put his hands on Tango's shoulders as he inspected, before looking over Scar without touching him. "Where's your cane, buddy? Do you need it?"

Scar swallowed. His legs were almost aching worse than his head. "I don't know. I had it. And then I got hit with something and now I don't have it. I didn't see it at Tango's place."

Skizz grabbed something out of a chest, went to a crafting table nearby, and returned with a wooden chair a moment later, setting it down. "Sit down, Scarface," he said gently. Scar collapsed into the chair without protest. Stone and sticks and string were passed to him next. "Wanna craft a temporary one? I don't have a lot of metal here, it's all at the iron farm. Otherwise I'd make some bars that might be good—"

"This is fine," Scar said, dragging the crafting table over. "Thanks Skizzy-wizzy."

Skizz smirked before going over to Tango, who had just sat in a heap of armor on the floor.

"So, gonna explain why you seemed to know who we were talking about when I mentioned the scary purple lady?" Tango asked.

Skizz pursed his lips, a wry smile beginning to form like he was going to say no—

WHAM!

A familiar voice cried out in pain.

Scar used his makeshift cane to shove himself to his feet and go to the ramp under Skizz's tower to investigate.

Grian had been thrown against Skizz's ward. The scary purple lady—Iris—was in the air, her shadowy wings churning the clouds. Thunder rumbled.

"Aaaaand that's my cue!" Skizz announced.

Scar watched in fascination—he'd seen this before, but it never stopped being amazing—as Skizz's six white wings blazed into existence and a ring of white-and-gold appeared above his head.

Grian groaned, still splatted against the sphere, mask a bit askew, but still covering his eyes completely. "Skizz, get them out of here!" His voice was muffled through the ward, but insistent. Scar, his knees starting to buckle after the adrenaline had started to ease out of his system, hobbled a little closer. Tango pushed to his feet.

"Why can't he go through?" Tango asked, approaching. "I thought you said friends could pass."

"They can," Skizz said.

"Do you not consider Grian a friend?" Scar wondered, head tilting to one side.

"I do. But there are certain... beings that my powers will block no matter whether friend or foe."

At that moment, something slammed into the ward. The point of Iris' sword. She was braced against the shimmering transparent barrier like she'd gone for a superhero landing and Grian had rolled out of the way, pushed off the ward, and took flight. A fierce black bow appeared in his hand.

"What kind of beings?" Scar pushed.

"That's for Grian to tell you later. Hold on." Skizz took both Scar and Tango's shoulders in his hands and shut his eyes.

A burst of yellow-white light nearly blinded Scar.

When he opened his eyes and blinked the afterimages of Skizz's halo out of his vision, he looked around. "Where... where are we?"

Skizz looked back to normal. No halo, no wings. Just Skizz in his suit with the sleeves ripped off. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "This, gentlemen, is a small private server of mine. Little safe haven."

"We're not in Hermitcraft anymore?" Tango asked, looking around. His vibrant yellow brows knitted together, worry etched in the lines of his forehead.

"Nope," Skizz declared confidently. "Which also means you two are safe."

"Why'd she come after us?" Tango complained. Not being in the Hermitcraft server meant their inventories were wiped. No armor, no weapons, no food. No supplies of any sort. The only thing that had carried over was—thankfully—Scar's cane. Which he was leaning pretty heavily on.

Scar hoped it was temporary. Hermitcraft had just restarted and he was already just enjoying a fresh start. He didn't need another one so soon. He sank to the ground.

"She said something about the last fiber of the soulbond," he said.

"Oh come on," Tango retorted. "Double Life was Grian's game for fun. The soulbonds weren't permanent."

"Those games aren't just for fun," Skizz said. "Grian makes them fun. The others of his kind started them as a way to feed off the energy a person gives off when they die—and people's misery. Grian feeds off it too, but he tries not to if he can help it. Remember Limited Life? The time he was awake but not... there?"

"Yeah." Tango looked unimpressed.

"That was his kind pulling his soul out of his body and forcing him to just Watch."

"Great. What does that have to do with the fibers of the soulbond?" Tango, as usual, was dry and blunt.

"Iris sensed Scar's connection to Grian. Used it to get his attention. That's why Scar was targeted. Who was your buddy, again?"

"Jimmy. Solidarity," Tango replied.

Skizz made a face. "Well that's why she grabbed you. Jimmy and Grian are the same... species. Different subsets of powers, but the same DNA, so to speak. Iris probably detected that both of you were bound to one of her kind but couldn't tell which one led to Grian. So she hurt you both to see which one got Grian's attention."

"Great," Tango muttered sarcastically. He stalked off and started destroying the tall grass to get wheat seeds.

"Grian feeds off misery?" Scar wondered aloud.

"He can," Skizz said. "His kind can feed on any human emotion. But misery and other negative ones are the easiest to elicit. And some of his kind think they... taste the best. His kind set up those games, Grian invaded them to ruin the meal by making the games fun. To punish him, they chipped away at his power and pulled him out for a while. It's been a power struggle the whole time."

Scar looked down at his legs. They were shaking but he couldn't feel it. Probably a bad sign. But he ignored the worry for that in favor of some unidentified emotion coiling darkly around his heart.

Betrayal.

"Why didn't he ever tell us?"

"He doesn't want to be different?" Skizz suggested. "He wants to play and have fun with his friends? Maybe live his life away from the crazy people? You saw what Iris was like."

"Yeah..." Scar hummed thoughtfully and started to massage his legs, one at a time, until the aches started to ease. Anger was trying to poke its head out, past the betrayal. Scar did his best to force it down. He wasn't an angry man. And Grian was one of his best friends. That didn't change the fact that Grian had been keeping a secret from him. Scar wouldn't have judged Grian for not being a normal Player. His jaw tightened. "How do you know all this?" he asked to get his mind off of the bubbling emotions in his gut.

Tango returned, seeds in hand and a wooden hoe on his belt. He wandered over to where a river stood nearby and tilled the soil before planting the seeds. He sat on the ground by Scar, still looking grumpy.

Skizz took a deep breath and sighed. "Well, Scarface," he said, "G can't hide what he is from me. I knew what he was the second I met him. Can't really hide the black wings and the mask and the purple darkness from an angel." His halo hummed into view and vanished. "His glamour that makes him look normal to everyone else is good and can't be detected or pierced by most forms of magic or most people's powers. But his kind and mine are on the same... level. So I can see through it. And even before I joined you all on the server, he'd come visit wherever I was living when he needed to talk to someone."

"So... does Grian always look like that? What we saw today? And what we've always seen of him was fake?"

"Fake is a strong word. A glamour just masks his power and the appearance. I've got a glamour on right now too. Keeps the wings and the halo from freaking people out. I imagine Grian does it for the same reason. To fit in with his friends. He wants to stand out on his own merit, not just because he's got the power levels of a minor deity."

"He does?"

"That's for him to explain."

—

Grian's teeth vibrated with the force of Iris' blade striking against his. Why did it always come down to violence with the Watchers? He could never seem to get them to listen to him otherwise.

Part of him wanted to fight dirty. To dig his fingers into her wings and tear her feathers out. But that wouldn't solve anything either.

Grian?

The voice was distant, small, echoey. Not heard through his ears. But felt in his mind.

He ignored it. He didn't have time to concentrate on anything other than Iris trying to destroy his home server by pummeling him into the ground. Not now.

Grian, we need to talk, the voice said. Louder. Clearer. Familiar.

I'm a little busy at the moment, Tim! Grian thought back, shooting his words like a lance down the connection. Even over telepathy, he knew he sounded strained.

This is important! Jimmy insisted.

Grian hurled Iris away from him, his wings beating at the air to keep him aloft. Buying him a couple seconds. You have reached Grian's voicemail. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you. He did his best impression of a cool, calm voice that he would have left on his answering machine, taking a moment to get his breath back before twisting and plummeting into a dive, bow out and arrow drawn. He loosed it.

Iris batted it away with her sword, ducking. Her sharp, gleaming, blindingly white teeth bared in frustration.

Their swords met again, hard enough for Grian to feel the vibrations down in his bare toes.

Grian, this is about Tango! He's in trouble—I felt it!

With a twist, he tried to disarm Iris, but she managed to flip in midair and maintain her grip on her hilt.

I literally just sent Tango to safety with Skizz—now will you shut up?

What's going on?

You remember Iris, right? My lovely "sister."

Yeah.

Guess who infiltrated Hermitcraft looking for me and who I'm trying to banish?

She didn't!

She did. Now shut up.

Do you need help? I can get over to fWhip for a faster portal to you.

I'm fine, thanks. Just shush. I'll let you know when Tango's back on Hermitcraft safe, yeah?

Thanks.

Cheers. Call you back later, Grian said.

Bye.

Jimmy's telepathic connection vanished. Listeners like him were naturally telepathic and could reach people from much farther away. Watchers, like Grian, could learn telepathy but weren't as adept. Grian had learned to be telepathic, of course. It was a great way to mess with his friends. But it would always take him more effort than it took Jimmy.

Iris slammed into Grian, sending them both sprawling in the pit Skizz had dug for his pyramid. Grian hit his wing joint hard as he impacted the ground. He clenched his jaw and grimaced in pain, pushing himself up into a seated position so he could get his feet under him. The back of his sword hand was scratched and the skin was nearly shredded from the impact. He dismissed his bow to put his other hand on the ground and hop to his feet. Gentle purple light began to coalesce around his injured hand. Skin began to stitch itself back together.

The thing about being a converted Watcher, rather than a naturally-born one, was that he could use his powers in different ways than the others. Like immediate healing.

Iris shoved herself to her feet and bent her knees in her defensive pose. “You can’t defeat me, little bird.”

“I don’t need to today. I just need to banish you from Hermitcraft. And impose upon you the understanding of what I will do to you if you dare go after my friends again. There won’t be enough left of you for the others to identify, understand?”

Iris spat blood—purplish black—to the ground at Grian’s feet.

Grian raised his sword. His power was still darkening the sky and rolling thunder. He concentrated on the chaos of it all and pulled.

Lightning forked down. Purple and bigger than a normal bolt. It struck Grian's sword. He dropped its point immediately and leveled it at Iris. The electricity arced away, toward her. Carving her out of Hermitcraft.

—

Scar looked up as thunder rolled across the small private server. The clouds turned from fluffy white to black and looming.

"Here he comes," Skizz said.

As if on cue, a figure fell through the clouds. Black shadowy wings furled close to a smaller body. Robe flapping around bare feet.

Grian nearly crashed into the area around spawn. He barely managed to twist his body and get his feet underneath him for a landing, but he hit hard and almost crumpled.

Skizz was next to him before Scar could even blink, taking Grian's arm and slinging it around his shoulders. "You're okay, G," he said. Almost like he was reassuring himself of that fact, rather than Grian. Tango ran over from where he'd been attending to the wheat he was growing. He'd brought back enough for a few loaves of bread so far.

"S... Skizz?" Grian's voice was wavering. Exhausted.

"Yeah, yeah. It's me," Skizz replied. "Why don't you come sit by Scarface."

Grian managed a weak nod. "I need... my..." Scar couldn't see the way Grian's forehead wrinkled under his mask, but by the way his mouth grimaced, he knew Grian was scrunching up his whole face.

"Don't bother with your glamour yet, buddy," Skizz said. "We're all okay with it, here."

Grian managed to tilt his head in Scar's direction. Whether he could actually see Scar through his mask, Scar had no idea. Grian didn't reply to Skizz, just let the latter help him sit down in the shade of an oak tree. He nearly flopped back to lie down, but tilted enough to instead crash into Scar's shoulder. Scar instinctively grabbed him and kept him upright.

"Scar?" Grian asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid," Scar replied.

Grian swallowed. "Yes you are. I can sense your emotions. You're terrified. Is it because of me? What I am?" As if magnetized, Grian's hand reached out and planted on Scar's chest, purple light drifting around the point of contact like a cloud—no. Like a whirlpool. Scar stared at it. The light was spinning and narrowing going up Grian's arm. His breathing was heavy and he was leaning hard against Scar's shoulder.

"Skizz. Skizz, pull me away. I can't stop it. I need to sto—I can't stop it!" Grian's voice turned panicked. Tango and Skizz each grabbed one of Grian's arms and dragged him back, away from Scar. Grian bit out a sound like it physically hurt him to be removed.

"What was that?!" Tango demanded, hair flickering faster than usual. Neither he nor Skizz let go of Grian's arms.

"I'm depleted. My body's seeking sustenance. Emotional energy to feed on. My kind tends to benefit off the negative emotions the best. Misery. Fear. Scar's terrified and my powers want it—need it—to rejuvenate. But I can't... I can't do that..." Grian arched his back, teeth bared as though in pain. "I told myself when I left that I wouldn't feed off my friends' worst feelings. It's bad—don't want... don't want to be bad anymore."

Scar watched, eyes flicking between Grian, Skizz, and Tango. Skizz looked concerned and sympathetic. Tango almost looked angry.

Scar cleared his throat. "I'm not scared of you. Or what you are, Grian," he said softly. The other three froze. "I won't lie. Feelin' a little bit betrayed that you never told me you're basically a god. But I'm scared for you. That you're hurting and exhausted." He used his cane to push to his feet and closed the gap. "If my fear and betrayal is what you need, take it."

Grian shook his head. "I can't—I can't do that to my friends—"

"Grian, listen to me," Skizz began.

But Scar cut him off. "You're not asking, mister," he snapped at Grian. "I'm telling you to take it." He pried Tango's fingers off Grian's wrist and brought Grian's hand back to his own chest. The purple whirlpool of light started spinning again. Siphoning the emotional energy directly into Grian.

Tango and Skizz seemed surprised, stepping back with raised eyebrows.

Grian and Scar stayed in the same position for nearly two minutes. Scar leaned on his cane, but he stayed standing while Grian knelt in front of him, hand raised and planted on Scar's chest as though unable to remove it.

Finally, Grian gasped and ripped his hand back. His wings beat a little to get him away from Scar, scrambling backward. "That's enough. That's enough. I'm okay now. I don't need more." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. With one hand, he reached up and balled his fist in his mask, ripping it off. He panted, staring at the ground. His eyes were wide, then narrowed as though blinded by the sunlight, despite being in the shade and tilted down, away from the sun.

"Better?" Scar asked.

Grian managed a shaky nod. "Loads. Thank you."

"That's what friends are for."

"Yeah... yeah." He tied his mask back on and massaged his temples. "I... I need to call Timmy back. Give me a moment." He looked about ready to collapse.

He did not, in fact, call Jimmy. Instead sitting in silence while continuing to rub his temples. Scar scrunched his eyebrows and looked over at Tango and Skizz, confused.

"Jimmy's telepathic," Tango explained. "He can read minds from across the universe if he concentrates hard enough. Grian's talking to him through their thoughts, probably."

"Ohhh. Okay. I get it," Scar said. While not, in fact, fully getting it.

After a few moments, Grian tilted his head up as though meeting everyone's gaze. "Right. I suppose I owe you answers," he said. "Before I start, what have you heard about the Watchers, Tango and Scar?"

#Hermitcraft fic #Aurora Writes #Rory Writes #Watcher!Grian #Tango Tek #TangoTek #Skizzleman #GoodTimesWithScar #Scar #briefly featuring Jimmy Solidarity

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kabra-malvada · 2 years

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MOON'S DESIGN FOR THE FIC

Some notes:

Fluffy shirt with long sleeves to become more cuddly and to make "magic" tricks. (Moon mostly uses them for evil, and by that I mean stealing the reader's things or playing pranks on them).

White gloves to 1. Imitate a cartoon character. 2. Be able to handle kids with sensory necessities.

Taller. (Used to be 8 feet).

Pants glow in the dark and change pattern (Holographic kind of thing).

Can project constellations from his eyes.

Eyes only glow red when using night vision. Sometimes he does it unintentionally.

Can and will pick you up, just like Sun.

Also they use ✨socks✨

Although his face plate rotates, his night cap won't as to not get stuck.

Face enhancements: Magnetic eyebrows, flexible silicon foam faceplate, openable mouth with tongue (Has a food compartment for when kids want to share snack so they won't feel bad if Sun/Moon can't eat, has happened before).

All articulations are able to rotate 360°.

Can open shirt and chest plate to reveal his secret weapon... a music box.

Over all lighter body.

And that's about it, I might make a more detailed page with the reader's uniform later. Also see Sun's design here.

And of course, don't forget to check out chapter 2 of the fanfic these designs are made for, I upload every Monday!

(Se me pasó la mano y e hice el capítulo bien largo alv. Nomás para que no se vayan a creer que los voy a estar haciendo taaaan largos, tuve piedad y no los deje en un cliffhanger, de nada.)

#sun/moon x reader #sun/moon fnaf #celestialheartsfanfic #fnaf self insert #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #kabra art #kabra writing

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quindolyn · 3 years

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Better Kisser Part 2 || James Potter and Lily Evans

Request: “istg i need a fic or a blurb or something about being in a poly relationship with lily and james...after reading Better Kisser it’s all i can think about 😭” -anon

and

“hiii !! first of all, i love your writings they’re so amazing honestly !! could you maybe write something with hot lily from “better kisser” ? i’d love it if it was both sensual and fluff :) thanks so much if you ever do something like that! hope you have a nice day/night!“ -anon

and

“QUINN HEAR ME OUT

imagine a part two to better kisser but like smutty bc Lily starts bragging about how she thinks she’s better at other things since she’s the better kisser so they make it a competition over who can like... get the reader off fastest... and then it’s like a competition to see who can get her off the most...

good ideas here right...? N E ways love u bestie <3″ -anon

Word Count: 4,752

Notes:I got three separate requests for this so obviously y’all wanted it and I want to write it. This is smut! I could also do headcanons on Jily x reader and even if you guys don’t request it I’ll probably still write them because it sounds like fun.

Warnings: poly sex, jily x reader, dom!James, dom!Lily, sub!reader, LIly’s a sex god, prove me wrong, they’re both cocky as fuck

Part 1

Masterlist

Lily Evans was the stars, she was mesmerizing and mysterious. Just as they decorated the night sky, accentuating the darkness through their beauty she too brought out the best in those around her without dulling any of her own shine. She was sly smiles and gentle touches, slender pale fingers and long, swishing red hair. She was wondrous and beautiful, complex and absolutely gorgeous. Lily Evans, she was the stars.

James Potter was the sun, he was bright and glowing and impossible to ignore. James was messy black hair, and goofy grins, strong hands and bear hugs. He attracted all of those around him, sucking them into his gravitational field, giving them purpose, warming their souls. A centering person when the rest of their lives were crazy and unpredictable and scary. James Potter, he was the sun.

Where Lily was understated and controlled with her witty remarks and sharp quips James was loud and boisterous, trying to get the biggest reaction out of people. Where Lily was calm James was chaotic. Where she was focused on her end goal he was everywhere, practically bouncing off the walls.

Together they were perfect.

And somehow they were yours.

One thing was for certain, Sirius Black was an upright prick, and you owed him, bigtime. If it weren’t for Sirius Black you would’ve never kissed Lily Evans on a dare. You would’ve never kissed James to satisfy his curiosities. You wouldn’t have spent weeks exchanging tense glances with the two, holding your breath whenever one of them so much as sat down one seat away from you in the Great Hall. Lily would’ve never found you, hiding away in the common room in the wee hours of the morning, pouring over your Transfiguration notes preparing for your test the following morning, or rather later in the day. She never would’ve brushed the hair out of your face with her elegant fingers, nails painted in a berry shade, complimenting her pale skin. She never would’ve told you that you really needed to go to bed, she never would’ve leaned down, meshing her lips with yours, allowing you to answer that question that had plagued you after you kissed Lily.

What did her lips taste like when she wasn’t drunk?

The answer?

Well at that moment, morning breath. Which brought a new question to the forefront of your mind, what did she taste like when she hadn’t just woken up in the middle of the night?

It didn’t take long for you to find out the answer. She’d brought you up to bed, her hand clasped with yours, telling you that she and James wanted to talk to you in the morning resulting in you tossing and turning all night in anticipation of the conversation that would take place the next day.

If it weren’t for Sirius Black you never would’ve had that conversation with James and Lily by the Black Lake. You never would’ve even had the opportunity to accept their offer not to join their relationship but to start a new one, with all three of you. You never would have never learned what Lily tasted like, it was maple syrup and cherries by the way.

If it weren’t for Sirius Black you wouldn’t be sitting in your dorm room with the two of them, skimming over notes for your potions midterm. Well you and Lily were looking over your extensive notes, James on the other hand was sitting behind you, pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

You hissed as he dragged his teeth over a bruised spot on your neck, sending ripples of both pain and pleasure through your body, leaving your fingertips tingling, dying to get themselves on his skin.

“Aw, baby,” He cooed in your ear as he registered your reaction, it’s not as though he could’ve missed it, not with your back pressed flush against his chest, “You a little sensitive there?”

“Come on Jamie,” You giggle trying to hide your neck from him, pressing your ear to your shoulder, “You already know I am.”

James slipped his rough, strong fingers under your jaw, using them to lift your head back up, away from your shoulder, “Don’t hide from me darling, wanna see the marks I left on you.” He returned his lips to the same spot on your neck, lapping slightly at the purple mark with his tongue.

Lily snorted from where she laid on her stomach a couple inches away from you on the same bed that had been transfigured to accommodate all three of you.

“What’s so funny Lils?” James inquired, peeking up from the delicate skin covering your thrumming pulse.

“Nothing,” She sang, twirling her pen in between her fingers, her feet hanging lazily in the air, “I just think it's funny you think you left that mark on her.”

“Well I did,” James said plainly, obviously not amused by Lily’s comment, “Didn’t I poppet?” He asked, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

You ducked your head, trying to hide your wide eyes and heated cheeks from the two of them.

“It’s okay (Y/N),” Lily cooed, setting her quill down in her book, marking her page as she closed the book, dropping it onto the floor, “You can tell him it was me who left that, his ego can take it.” She held eye contact with you for a minute, managing to keep a straight face before a smile broke out across her lips, chuckles erupting from the soft cushions of her lips, lathered in a light pink gloss, “Okay, it probably can’t but that shouldn’t stop you baby, Jamie needs to remember that he’s not the only one who can make you feel good.”

“I know I’m not Flower, but I left this one, I can tell, it's one of the darker ones.” And he was right, the entire left side of your neck was littered in bruises and bites, some lighter than others, some darker, but none as dark as the one he was currently tracing with his index finger.

“Nope,” Lily countered, popping her p before pushing herself up off of her shins in order to settle between your open legs, “I distinctly remember, I had her pressed up against the wall before you got back from Quidditch practice, she moaned so pretty for me, prettier than she ever has for you.” She grinned victoriously, turning her gaze back to you, and only you, “It’s like he cares more about that fucking snitch than he does us.”

“That’s bullshit love and you know it,” He murmured in your ear pressing a kiss against the corner of your mouth before dragging his lips, considerably less rough than they were before you started dating him as you’d made it your mission to apply lip balm to his lips every time you saw him, across the side of your face back to your ear, “She’s just trying to turn you against me, she’s so mean isn’t she.”

They loved doing this. Making you choose between the two of them, or trying to anyway. The power struggle between the two of them was hot as fuck.

Before you could so much as open your mouth Lily was responding for you, “I’m not mean doll,” She crooned, not looking at you but rather focusing on the dark haired boy whose nimble fingers were expertly pulling at the hem of your shirt, slowly but steadily rolling up the material until it covered just was much as your bra, “Jamie just needs to remember who the better kisser here is, who makes you feel the best.”

Ignoring her jab James murmured a quick, “Want this off,” In your ear before pulling the shirt over your head and arms, tossing it off the bed and onto the floor paying it no mind as soon as the material slipped from his fingers.

Desperate to prove his worth, to prove his dominance James’ hands ran up and down your thighs, inching your skirt up them, “You’re not the better kisser here Flower, you’re not the best anything. Our baby here loves me the most.”

“She told us James,” Lily sighed, clearly exasperated with your boyfriend, “After she kissed you for the first time she told us. I’m the better kisser, just accept it. She likes me the most don’t you (Y/N/N)?”

“Jamie you make me feel so good,” You began, hoping to soften the blow, “But Lily’s tongue is magic, feels so good in my mouth, in my-my…”

“It’s okay pretty girl,” She simpered, “You can say it, where does my mouth feel good?”

“My pussy,” You forced out, willing yourself not to stutter.

“That’s right my pretty little kitten,” She grinned, tilting your chin up with her index finger so that you were staring into her swirling emerald irises, darkened with obvious desire. “I make your pussy feel so good, better than Jamie.”

“Off.” James demanded, not taking kindly to Lily’s teasing, as he aggressively undid the clasp on your bra, the snide remarks obviously doing no damage to his ego as he pulled the straps from your arms. Taking no care with the expensive, luxurious garment that he himself had bought for you he flung the clothing over his shoulder. Clearly not caring about the money he’d spent on it as the silky material crumpled next to the bed.

“Not just my tongue that makes you feel better isn’t that right my darling?” Lily smirked, beginning to undo the buttons on her button up, “S’my fingers too, stretching you out on my fingers, they can reach so much further in you than his can.”

“Pfft,” James shook his head, one hand settling on your waist, gripping with a frankly frightening strength, no doubt melding dark purple bruises in the shapes of his fingertips on your soft skin.

“Gimme your hand Flower, let me show our baby that you’re wrong” James demanded as the hand not on your waist extended towards the redhead. When she dropped her hand in his he immediately lined them up, palm against palm, fingers against fingers, and much to James’ chagrin his hands were only barely larger than hers. His palm was much larger than hers leaving his fingers slightly shorter than his girlfriend’s.

Feeling benevolent, you grabbed his hand before it dropped down to his thigh in defeat, pressing your hands together as he had pressed his to Lily’s. Yours were considerably smaller than his, and therefore her’s too, your palm nearly half the size as his, your fingers dwarfed by his.

“See Jamie, your hands are bigger than mine.” You comforted, mesmerized by the contrast, “Your fingers make me feel so much better than mine ever could. They don’t even come close.”

“But that’s besides the point right poppet?” Lily questioned, grasping your jaw in her graceful hand, you noticed her ivory dress shirt now hung open, revealing her red lace clad breasts as she once again tilting your head up to look her in the eyes, “Because you’re not allowed to touch yourself, not without my permission.”

“Or mine,” James piped up.

Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend Lily released her grip on your jaw, “Keep your eyes on me darling, be my good girl.”

“You even like my strap more than you like James’ cock, stretches you out so much better than he ever could. Not to mention we don’t have to wait for his little blue pill to work do we?”

Being a muggle born you understood her joke but James was utterly bewildered by your shared laughter.

“You’re not laughing at me are you, you little slut?” James spat, his voice hard and unwavering as he turned your face with a single finger so that your neck was craned to look at him.

“N-no,” You shook your head pathetically, your eyes flashing downwards not being able to meet him.

“Open,” He commanded, tapping your bottom lip and you instantly obeyed, not daring to disobey him. You were rewarded for your obedience by the male spitting into your mouth, the taste of his saliva bleeding along the expanse of your tongue.

“What do we say to Jamsie, pretty girl?” Lily raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Thank you.”

“Good girl,” James muttered, watching as you swallowed the gift he’d given you, “Thought you’d forgotten your manners for a second.”

“Not our good girl,” Lily grinned, somehow now only in her thong, “No, she’s such a good girl for us.”

“Guess she is,” James agreed, leaving a trail of kisses between your shoulder blades.

“Bet I can make our baby cum first James,” Lily boasted, beginning to work on the zipper of your skirt, expertly pulling it off of your legs, “Being the better kisser and all.”

“Don’t get cocky Evans,” James tutted, pulling his shirt over his head as he had yours, “You know I love your strap baby but it just can’t compare to my cock. Mine’s real.”

Clearly unimpressed by his comment Lily pressed her lips to yours, maneuvering you so that you too were on your knees, giving James time to strip down to the same level of clothing as the two of you.

Smiling into the kiss she put but a millimeter of distance between the two of you to catch her breath, “You taste so good kitten.”

“You’re the one who tastes good Lily.”

“So nice to me, don’t deserve you,” She planted a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “Let me make you feel good baby.”

Not complaining, you let Lily lie you back on the bed where James was no longer standing, instead now standing behind Lily, letting his hands settle on her hips.

Once you were lying down she hooked her hands under your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed as James helped her off the mattress, helping her plant her feet on the floor. It was things like this, the subtle loving gestures and actions even when they were practically at each other’s throats, that reminded you of how much they loved each other. Of how much they loved you.

“Look at these,” Lily lilted, her finger hooking under the silky material of your panties, “So pretty aren’t they J?”

“Very,” He whispered in her ear only loud enough for you to barely hear him, “Like her in red.”

Lily hummed in affirmation, tapping your hip as a non verbal clue to lift your hips so she could pull them off of you.

She didn’t waste a single second before kneeling down before you so that her face was level as your glistening pussy, already so wet from them just talking about pleasuring you.

After running a single finger through your folds Lily brought her finger to her lips, a hum leaving her lips. “You taste good down here too (Y/N), you have such a pretty pussy.”

“Thank you,” You murmured, attempting not to whine and be their good girl even though you desperately wanted them to touch you.

Without any warning Lily inserted two slender fingers into your cunt causing you to gasp at the sensation. “Lily,” You whimpered, trying not to buck your hips towards her hand, not wanting to let on quite yet how desperate you really were.

“See J?” You could hear the smirk on her lips as she slowly moved her fingers in and out of you, paying you no other mind, instead directing her attention to her boyfriend who still stood behind her, his hands now on her bare shoulders. “She’s really not all that hard to please when you actually know what you’re doing. Had my fingers in her two seconds and she’s already so needy for me.”

“Shut up Lils,” James growled, “Stop talking like I don’t know how to get her off, she’s my baby too, I know exactly how to get her desperate.” In his efforts to prove his point he moved onto the bed, taking one of your nipples into his mouth resulting in a whine to tumble from your lips as he raked his teeth over the sensitive bud.

As his mouth sucked on one his hand moved to the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers before pinching harshly making you gasp in pleasure.

Lily allowed James to have his moment before taking your clit between her lips and sucking. If you gasped for James you absolutely screamed for Lily, thank Merlin for silencing charms because otherwise someone would’ve probably thought you were being tortured. Once she had your sensitive bundle of nerves in her mouth she began humming, making wave after wave of intense ecstasy roll through your core and up your spine, leaving your nerve endings frayed and responsive to every single touch.

You could feel everything, the soft material of the duvet beneath your back, James’ tongue circling your nipple, one hand caressing your heated cheek while the other traced shapes down your stomach. You could feel Lily’s fingers continuing their assault on your cunt, reaching so deep inside of you that they almost touched your g-spot, but not quite, as your clit was set aflame by her mouth.

“You’re not even trying,” Lily snarked, coming up for a breather from in between your legs, “You really think you’re gonna get her to cum from playing with her nipples? I never realized you were that daft Jamsie.”

“If you’d give me a turn,” He began before Lily cut him off.

“Doesn’t look like she wants me to stop does it?” She nodded in your direction where you were writhing on the bed merely from her fingers. “Do you want me to stop, baby?”

“No,” You begged, “Please don’t stop, please! Need your fingers in me, make me feel so good.”

Grinning triumphantly Lily returned her mouth to your pulsing cunt, sucking with a new found vigor that had your back careening off of the mattress, hips bucking towards her mouth.

“Hey,” James scolded, moving his arm to keep your hips firmly on the bed, “Don’t be a desperate slut, take it as she gives you it okay? Be good for us.”

Nodding feebly you willed your hips still but it was nearly impossible as Lily replaced her fingers with her tongue, moving her digits to pinch your clit. Feeling the pleasure bubble up in your stomach you focused on your girlfriend’s ministrations, lapping at your hole with her tongue sent you into a whole new level of pleasure.

“Feels so good! Lily, that feels so good, please don’t stop!”

You could feel her smiling into your opening as she sped up her movements, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice of climax. “Am I allowed to cum?” You asked desperately, the only thing keeping your hips where they were being James’ strong forearm, digging into your hip bones.

“No,” He growled, slapping at your tit bringing you even closer to something you were apparently not allowed to do.

“Come on James,” Lily said replacing her tongue with her fingers as she moved her head to talk to the dark haired boy, “You can’t just tell her she’s not allowed to cum because it’s not you who’s going to make her cum,” Turning her attention back to you she smiled, “Of course you’re allowed to cum baby, don’t listen to him. Are you close, m’love?”

“Uh huh,” You screwed your eyes shut, the pleasure becoming overwhelming and only intensifying when Lily’s mouth returned to your clit, licking broad stripes up and down it.

“Baby look at me,” James’ deep voice commanded you, to which you promptly obeyed, “Wanna see you when you fall apart on her tongue, wanna see you cum baby, you’re so pretty when you cum.”

James’ words accompanied by a particularly harsh nip by Lily to your clit has you tipping over the edge, letting out a high pitched scream as pleasure took over your body, drowning you in the feeling of your lovers still working on your body, obviously not satisfied with leaving you with just one orgasm.

As you came to, your orgasm slowly seeped away from your cloudy mind, reentering you into your dorm room where you heard Lily’s melodic voice, “See James, told you I could make her cum first.”

“Didn’t even get a chance,” He grumbled from his place next you, brushing the hairs off of your forehead. “Wanna make you cum poppet, tell Lily to give me a turn.”

“L-lils,” You managed in your post orgasmic haze, “Want Jamsie, want his- want his…”

“Look at how good of a job I did on our baby,” The redhead boasted, “Just one in and already a blubbery little mess. How do you think she’s gonna be fairing when I have her on her fourth?”

“Only shooting for four Lils?” James raised a defined eyebrow, “I was thinking I could get at least five out of her myself.”

Your eyes widened, slightly in alarm, slightly in anticipation. “F-five?”

“Shh kitten, let us talk,” Lily chaisted lightly. “You really do think highly of yourself don’t you Potter?”

“I’ve done it before,” He countered.

“No, we’ve done it before, both of us. Neither of us have ever gotten her to five by ourselves.”

“Don’t think you can do it Flower?” As he rose from the bed and moved towards Lily you caught sight of his cock, already painfully hard, the tip a bright red and leaking with precum.

“S’not me I’m worried about, don’t wanna overwhelm our baby.”

“I can do it,” You piped in feebly, “I can take it, make me feel good please, wanna feel good.”

“See Lily? If she says she can take it, who are we to question her?”

“You sure poppet?” Lily asked you, her eyes on yours.

“Yes Lily, I’m sure.”

That was all James needed to nudge Lily out from between your legs, spitting on his fingers before rubbing them up against your pussy. “You need me to stretch you out darling?” His voice laced with absolute adoration as he took in your perspiring figure from this new angle.

You shook your head but James wasn’t satisfied, “Wanna hear your voice poppet, come on not too fucked out yet are you?”

“No, don’t need you to stretch me out, want your cock.”

He grinned, lining up the tip of his cock with your quivering entrance, “There’s my good girl.”

As he pushed into you you faintly questioned why you didn’t have him stretch you out beforehand, but once he was fully sheathed inside you all you could think about was the way his dick pressed perfectly against your g-spot.

You moaned out as he began thrusting into you, ruthless in his efforts to make you cum. He moved his hands to hold your hips at an angle where he could better reach deeper inside of you if that was even possible.

“So pretty baby girl,” His grin was wicked as he watched your cunt, reveling in the sight of his cock going in and out of your dripping pussy, “You look so pretty on my cock, you gonna make a mess f’me?”

“She’s not gonna cum yet you himbo,” Lily interjected, “You’ve been inside her what? Five seconds? You need her to cum soon? You close?”

Using Lily’s mocking as motivation he pistoned his hips in and out even more viciously, leaving you a bouncing mess on his cock as he pulled his prick almost all the way out, so that only the leaking red head was still inside of you before fully sheathing himself in you once more.

“Fuck!” You cried out as the tip of his member brushed against your cervix, “Don’t stop!”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” James managed through gritted teeth, throwing your legs over his shoulders so that he wouldn’t have to hold them in his hands any longer, giving him the ability to grip your hips.

So lost in your pleasure you hadn’t registered where Lily was until she sat next to you on the bed, moving her fingers to massage your clit pulling a strangled gasp from your throat.

“L-Lily,” You stuttered out.

“Hey there baby,” She cooed, like she was talking to an actual child, “Jamie making you feel good.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked on hers.

“You close, kitten? You gonna cum soon?”

A whimper escaped your lips this time as you nodded once more.

“Let me see if I can help with that then, wanna see you cum again pretty girl.”

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the mattress with a soft thud as Lily’s fingers started working magic on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your second orgasm.

A slap against your clit, combined with the deep, hard thrusts of your boyfriend, reaching depths within you you could’ve only imagined before him sent you careening. Your climax washed over you in waves, each stronger than the last making you twitch and spasm on the bed.

You hadn’t even registered that you’d squirted, not until Lily’s delicate hands were rubbing your release up and down your thighs, “Well would you look at that?” James grinned, “I didn’t see you make her squirt Lils.”

“Oh, you don’t get points for this one pretty boy,” Lily grinned, not making eye contact with him but rather focusing on your pulsing cunt.

“What?” James was incredulous, “What do you mean I don’t get credit for that one, she came on my cock.”

“Yes, technically, but she only came when I started on that pretty little clit of hers, so responsive isn’t it, doll?” She asked, punctuating her remark with a gentle slap against your still throbbing cunt and a quick wink that James was too bewildered to pick up on.

Over the next couple of hours they were able to lull a number of orgasms out of you, James making Lily sit in a chair next to the bed so that she couldn’t touch you at all and take credit for any of his hard work.

You’d cum on her tongue and his, both of their fingers, once at the same time, they split the credit for that one but it was worth it, getting to watch your cunt stretch around both of them. You came on James’ cock more times than you could count, and of course on Lily’s strap on because Godric, did she know how to move her hips.

By the end you’d cum a grand total of nine times. You weren’t quite sure how’d you’d done it but you had. And they were both so proud of you.

The final score was Lily, five. James, four. You’d better believe that James was butt hurt about it, not quite willing to accept his obvious defeat, instead of acknowledging it and conceding to his very talented girlfriend, working on getting you cleaned up.

Once James had left the dorm to run you a bath Lily scooped you into her lap, running her hands up and down your thighs but being careful not to touch your sensitive cunt.

“You did such a good job for us baby,” She cooed, pressing kiss after kiss to the back of your head, “Came nine times, can you believe that?”

“Is Jamie going to be mad that you made me cum more?” You asked in your degenerative head space not wanting to upset your boyfriend.

“Of course not,” Lily squeezed your hips, soothing your woes. “Especially not at you, he might mope around a little bit because he is a man,” She pulled a light giggle out of your lips with that one, “But he’ll get over it, it's just gonna push him to work harder next time when he’s making you feel good.”

“Flower,” James called from the bathroom, “Bath’s ready.”

“Come on baby,” Lily said, easing you up onto your feet, “Let’s get you in the bath and all cleaned up for us alright?”

“Okay,” You yawned, understandably exhausted by the events of the night, “Will you take the bath with me?”

“Of course my pretty girl, not gonna let Jamie join us though, s’my reward for being the best.”

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement, “Sounds good Lils.”

As she settled you into the bathtub Lily ordered James out before he could step into it with you.

“But-”

“Out!”

“Fine! Fine, I’m going!”

Lily was the stars and James was the sun, and fuck did they know how to make you feel good.

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #the marauders #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders poly #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #james potter #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #lily evans #lily evans fanfic #lily evans fanfiction #lily evans x reader #jily #jily x reader

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kitty-av · 2 years

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Ok, so I think I have finished ghost designs for my clones after they pop up in the zone after their destabilisation •^•

I also have color for them now - roughly at least. I may change hues or values at some point because I just mostly used this one pack of markers with nice saturation, and so if I ever decide to draw them digitally things will definitely change at least a bit.

But yeah, here they are, my bois but ghost addition:

I drew this man once on a sticky note and once on notebook paper, I added them both because I think both sketches have their charm. Dorian is no longer naked, so I had to incorporate his original design in more subtle ways like the belt. And his colours are generally the black and white of his original appearance.

I gave him a new hairstyle because I was already going for a glow up vibe, and I thought it'd look nice. I gave him some green in the hair because I wanted more green accents near his face just in case the detail on the suit ended up distracting away from it. Also hair streaks are cool.

Lastly, I was so proud of myself when I realised I could make the DP symbol into a tie accessory, the joy I felt when I randomly happened to sketch it like that was just... A lot.

Gotta love feeling smart for doing small details right OwO

This man. This man gave me a lot of trouble in the colour department. I already knew I wanted Dante in a comfortable/ casual outfit because he's the art guy of the squad, but after I figured out what it's generally going to look like, I realized that the whole green/yellow/blue triad looks great on paper... But it actually looks awkward in paper.

The markers I picked were giving me very few options because the green was dark, so I brought in another lighter one that didn't have a brush tip ( hence the roughness in some sketches ) and began to play around with the different combinations and with the way they'd look near the blue ( hence the swatches around the clothing )

In the end I settled for darker on the inside, lighter on the outside. After that I decided my man had way too little blue and thought it'd be cool to also give him blue in the hair to help tie the color together a bit more. It worked, but I like my sketch without the streaks more than the one I did with them, so I'm showing both.

Other than looking like a sunflower, the man's dark and green on the inside is also kinda his original colour scheme. His eyes were red as a Skelly, but I ditched that because I like my yellow/blue/green scheme and I wanted to keep it consistent.

This guy was the simplest to figure out because I already knew I wanted him to look the most superhero/ready for action one out of all of them. I gave him a uniform looking suit because I thought it'd probably be better for flying around and being tiny but also stylish.

I have multiple sketches of this lil man ( one in my own ) because of how simple and quick it is to actually pose and draw this man out of all of them.

I think this works because he's also quite expressive and mischievous so if he's easier to draw I can maybe push the outline and expressions more to show his emotions.

Also elf ears and fangs because that way he looks like a tiny fairy or sprite and that's very chaotic. You see him and you know he's a mischievous boi.

His hair is fire because why not, fire hair is cool. That's probably why they gave Dan fire hair too, it just looks nice.

Though for Dominic it's more of a general ' this guy is a free spirit ' vibe rather than a ' I am intimidating and very scary ' vibe.

He's red because I just thought it fit and it would help him stand out against the green of his brothers ( and also his own green from when he was a clone ) OwO

I think this is everything I wanted to show for now so yeah, I hope you guys like them (ㆁωㆁ) Have a good day/night!

#danny phantom #phanart #dp clones #danny phantom art

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everyday-is-brighter-with-you · 2 years

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Lullaby for the boy

[ ID: Traditionally drawn, digitally colored Smile For Me fanart with Dr Habit, Kamal Bora and a self insert of the protagonist, ‘’Flower Kid’’ AKA Rose here. Artstyle is semi realistic leaning to cartoony. The coloring is done with a rough pencil effect except for the background which is smooth. Notebook lines are visible. Everyone is in halfbody except for Rose whose whole self is seen.

In the left page, Dr Habit cradles a sleeping Rose in his arms, looking fond and singing him ‘Children Of The Night’ in Russian. Rose’s hair is all out of its ponytail, and he has one hand on Habit’s while the other dangles freely. BG here is warm orange.

In the artists interpretation, Habit has a muppet-like appearance with yellow fur, pink hair in two tones; duller and brighter, dull pink cheek patches that have 3 white freckles, stitches and scars on hands plus an X shaped one near his mouth, deep red nails. His teeth are uneven with a bigger snaggletooth too. He wears his usual getup, the fluffy collar has flowers, coat has patches of fur-like material that sticks out, his hat is a fedora. Rose is a rose-based nymph who is green skinned with messy straight black hair, acne, stubble, thin thorny wooded arms and neck, hands are leaves. Wears dark brown shirt with the Tamil letter ஃ(the aayutha ezuthu) encircled in red. Dark brown pants are flowy at the bottom with inner designs colored like red\deep pink rose petals, has silver anklets on feet with pink chappals. Wears purple cat-eye glasses.

In the right page, the lyrics he’s singing are written in cursive, in an uneven sliding orientation at first, and then straightening. The words go from dark blue to lighter blue to purple. The words are:

За мною же, де��и, скорее пройдем

Сквозь боль и страдания мира.

Но плакать не надо: так быть и должно,

Прекрасное здесь погибает.

There are white wavy lines with colorful music notes that slightly glow. There are four simple flowers drawn at various places.

Kamal is playing his cello, which has pointed swirls all over it for design pattern. He has a sheepish smile and looks to the other side as he quietly says, ‘’Gosh...i really like his singing’’. He wears a red flannel shirt, and a single small gold earring. In the artists interpretation he has acne, his hair is a little more longer here, he has thick eyebrows. BG is the same warm orange, but fades to a more yellow glow at the top right. Overall the whole drawing is warm toned. end ID]

---

(USES LE MEGAPHONE) I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING EVERYONE TO CHECK OUT @flaxpost AND REQUEST HIM IMAGINES

[ Unedited text: (uses le megaphone) I am once again asking everyone to check out @flaxpost and request him imagines]

Based on this imagine>!!!

‘’If you wanted to hear him (Habit) sing he would be really embarrassed and would sing for you, Like you’re in bed for the night and he comes in with Kamals cello and starts singing soft songs in Russian while Kamal playing the cello is just standing there lmao.’’

---

I AM SO PROUD OF THIS PIECE, IT LOOKS LIKE A STORYBOOK, I’D LIKE TO BE ONE OF THOSE BIG TWO-PAGE SPREADS WITH COLORS SO CRISP LIKE A PHOTO AND A HEAVENLY SMELL, ALSO HELL YEAH WARM TONING THE SHIT OUT OF MY ART TO MAKE ORANGE JUICE FOR THE SOUL LEGENDS😎👍🏼

---

Credits for where I got the translation from!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nezOyUMirVU ( Link to a Russian version of Children Of The Night MLP version by Aira MoonShadow)

---

Colorless versions below the cut, I recommend them to see more of the details! I did patterning here!

[ ID: The left page but without color, its only the traditional drawing. end ID]

[ ID: The right page but without color, only the traditional drawing. end ID]

#smile for me #MY EXAMS MAY BE KICKING MY ASS BUT IM STILL GOING STRONG !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#ALLOWED MYSELF THIS ONE ART PIECE #FOR A WORTHY CAUSE #kamal bora #dr habit #flower kid #s4m #fanart #flaxpost #HOPEFULLY THAT RUS CURSIVE IS PASSABLE AHA #I TRIED STAR #HEADCANON THAT HABIT TRANSLATED THE SONG HIMSELF IN UNIVERSE AND HES SOOO PROUD #A LA ME SINGING THAT TAMIL VERSION OF DONT FORGET #WE BOTH HAVE LANGUAGE LEVEL UNGREAT🤝

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its-snicket-here · 3 years

Note

Yandere scp? With Kain, The plage doctor, hard to destroy reptile, and Dr.Gears w/ guard obsession of theirs

You know. It'll be interesting if you have a total of 4 Yandere going after you. One a kuudere yandere one, one believes that you're highly pure, one angy Yandere, and the other a caring Yandere :)

I'm really sorry if this seem to be really rushed, or that any of the characters you requested doesn't have any more dialogue in this story, or that this seemed to be more sided with Dr. Gears. ;-;

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: ◼️◼️◼️

Age: 27

Sex: Female

Notes: A women who have been taking training early at age 22 after being chosen from the ◼️◼️◼️. Held no hesitation on agreeing to be apart of the MTF forces. Willing to be instead be chipped with a drug that give her cardiac arrest when activated then amnesticized.

(7/15) After 2 year being part of the forces, scientists noticed that SCP-049 and SCP-632 had reacted positively than per usual when ◼️◼️◼️ is in the room. Furthermore, now ◼️◼️◼️ is required to be in the room whenever further testing and integration is required while doing her duties. ◼️◼️◼️ is allowed to shoot if needed when inside the room.

(8/17) Strangely enough, SCP-073 also reacts much more positively than usual. We are keeping a close eye on ◼️◼️◼️ and her interactions with other SCPS for a reason why.

(◼️◼️◼️) After the incident at site ◼️◼️◼️ in ◼️◼️◼️, her last known whereabouts with scientist Dr. Gears is unknown. As well the disappearance of SCP-049, 682, and 073. We are still throughly searching through the world to find the SCPS as well, possibly, an alive ◼️◼️◼️ and Dr. Gears. When looking through the database, it was seen that ◼️◼️◼️ had her chip off. Any indications where Dr. Gears and ◼️◼️◼️ could be was her body camera. This is the footage where ◼️◼️◼️ and Dr. Gears were last seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You held your firearm tightly, peaking over a corner preparing to shoot on sight if a Chaos Insurgencies, D-Classes, or any SCPs appeared. The alarms blared, flashing red. A breach has occurred.

It felt sudden, out of the blue. Rarely a containment breach would appear as the site is unknown and the fact it was kept under watch 24/7. It's damn near impossible to get a breach happening. You were split apart from your squad, aside a professor, Dr. Gears. He suck beside you when the two of you were split apart from the squad from a rouge SCP. Blood were smeared, and many dead bodies from scientists, guards, all alike littered the floor. Some where even filled with lead, while some were missing half of their bodies.

Dr. Gears still behind you, following closely behind. Too close for your liking, but you don't want to peep a word. The last thing you want is to have some chaos, D-class, or even worse, and SCP to hear you. Especially SCP-682, 049, and hesitantly, SCP-073. All three of them gives you extremely bad aura. Despite SCP-073 being a class Euclid, you can't shake off the feeling that he has a much more darker turn for you.

"Do you know the way out, doctor?" You whispered quietly. The alarms still blared in a rhythmic way, flashing red. But before he could say a word, you heard a roar and blood being ripped out. Gun fire could be heard in the distance. The doctor doesn't seem to have any response to the terror, only coldly stare at the corridor in a blank response.

"There should be an elevator that'll take both of us-"

"W̷h̶e̴r̵e̵ ̸i̶s̷ ̷s̶h̶e̸?̸!̴" The voice roared off into the distance. Though it sound rasp and barely auditable, both of you two know that there will be no survival when facing that creature. That is, you don't get killed by the other SCPs that escaped. Swiping you card to a reader, you urged the doctor to go in first before entering after. You could hear the reptile bulking angrily forward to where you two are at. You ushered the doctor more, getting increasingly worried with each more step you could hear thumping over. "S̷h̷e̵'̶s̶ ̶h̵e̸r̸e̶!̷ ̴W̴h̴e̴r̸e̷?̷!̶"

The doctor seem to held no fear or suprise in this, and continued on with his sentence, "-up to the first floor. Gate A." You nodded as you quickly ushered him to the elevator. You rather not meet that lizard ever again. You already keep getting bad vibes from him whenever you come near. Though, that short peace soon come forth to end as you heard zombies groaning and the grinding of a small knife.

"You'll be cured soon enough..." murmured a voice. You froze again as you remembered who that voice belongs. Slowly easing by the distracted plague doctor with the corpse, you still held the doctor behind you - but seems like SCP-343 wants to edge you along. The plague doctor lifted up his head, seeming to sense that there were people behind him. Though... what he recognized is you... You are pure from the pestilence. He needs to take you away from the horrors of the pestilence before you too get infected too. You're still the only one pure from the pestilence. He needs to protect you from the pestilence. Though you weren't taking any of this. You just want to go get the hell out of here right now.

Immediately pulling the trigger on your firearm, allowing yourself to go nuts on the zombie horde and possibly hurting SCP-049 in the process. You roughly shoved Dr. Gears behind you, "Go, Gears! Get the hell out of here!" Though usually you would have to burn SCP-049-2 to get rid of them, but this isn't the time now. If you're going to die, at least you're going to die with a fight. Dr. Gears grunted a little, but he stood there watching you go Rambo on the SCP in admiration. He sees you a woman to be admired and praised, as well... Well, that's for a thought for a later time. You turned your head around, scowling a bit.

"Are you too fucking stupid, doc?! Fucking run!" You yelled. Corpses of SCP-049-2 piled up in front of you, but SCP-049 was nowhere to be seen. Hearing footsteps going away from you, you turned your attention towards in front of you. You let go of the trigger, taking heavy breaths. The hallways is already painted with violence. Searching your vest for a lighter or anything to light up with, you pulled out a small flask of rubbing alcohol, as well some gaze rolls and a lighter. Grabbing your knife, you cut off a piece of a finger from a dead SCP-049-2, wrapped it up with gaze, and soaked it with the alcohol. Lighting your mini source of tinder, you hastily threw it to the pile of corpses. Hoping that it'll cut off the plague doctor and any other possible SCPs away from the elevators.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening the door to an office place from Gate A, you huffed in annoyance seeing that they're all the same. It feels like you're going around circles in this damn place! Hearing metal taps on the ground, you ducked over a tipped over desk, peaking over the corner. Ready to attack if it's human. Though, you are running low an ammo too... The door opened with ease, as a dark toned man appeared. His arms seemed to metallic from an unknown source, accented with a softly blue glowing hue. Ah yes, SCP-073, or titled as "Cain." Though the containment members can interact with SCP-073 safety, you had gain a bad feeling from him. He always seem to be always by your side or following you whenever you do your patrols. Always gazing you... almost in an obsessive way. You frowned, as you hesitantly withdrew your weapon away.

Stepping out of your spot, SCP-073 smiled as you do. "I thought I've seen you somewhere in the corridors, Ms." You grunted, as you rolled your shoulders. Easing your sore muscles and joints from the stress going on. Although the alarms didn't blared annoyingly loud unlike underground, the lights continued to blink red.

"What can I say? These corridors are the same, perhaps you have been walking around circles, SCP-"

"Please, call me Cain."

"...Cain..." Though, despite you being at ease with a very calm and helpful SCP. You couldn't help it but feel uneasy with him. You keep having a feeling that there is much darker tone whenever... SCP-073 is near you. Always chatting you up and worry about your health. Every. Single. Day. It's like he has an obsession with you or something...

"Ms, I can lead you where Gate A is. I've explored around the facility enough to know where it is. I know you don't trust me because I am not-"

"Lieutenant, there you are." Behind you was Dr. Gears. He seem disheveled slightly, but still maintained his stone faced. Unbothered that he managed to get some blood on him and had his clothes crinkled up. In his hand is a pistol, probably from a fallen MTF, D-class, or Chaos. The tension in the air thickens even more, as you could feel that the two of them seem to have a disliking on each other for a much darker reason. "Lieutenant, we need to leave, now." You were rather shocked, upon hearing the doctor's voice to dip down. Almost into a threatening snarl.

SCP-073 still maintained his cheerful attitude, but even then. You could tell that this is becoming dangerous. His smile seemed more forced, almost holding back the urge to attack Dr. Gears. You glanced between the two of them, thinking if you should just instead sneak away and let the two have some form of threatening stance fight or just run away fully and possibly lose your job if Dr. Gears survived the encounter. The tension between the two soon broke when distant growling and scurrying footsteps through the hallway that SCP-073 came out from. SCP-073 turned around, giving you the chance to grab Dr. Gears and dashing off where he can from. "I̴ ̷s̸m̴e̷l̴l̷ ̸h̷e̸r̴! G̸i̶v̸e̷ ̶m̶e̷ ̵h̴e̸r!" Dashing along, you found the elevator that lead to the final upper floor where the gate A is supposed to be. Rapidly spamming the button to summon the elevator, Dr. Gears was still beside you. Though... He look more agitated than being stoned face. His knuckles grew pale from holding the pistol tightly.

"That... SCP. What was he exactly doing?" Your ears perked up, as you hear a hint of venom in his voice. This is the first time you heard the doctor to break in some emotions.

"He... Was offering to lead me to where Gate A is at."

"You shouldn't habe trusted him, Lieutenant. You'll never know if he's actually truthfull about it. Expeciaaly from an SCP."

"Dr. Gears. I admire your worries, but SCP-073 means no harm... He is proven by multiple facities members that he is fri-"

"Before I found you. You could tell there was something dark with him, didn't you?"

"Well, yes. But-"

"He's planning something to do with you. You know it too. Why exactly are you trusting him?"

"I wasn't, Dr. Gears!" You growled lowly. You were already annoyed and tired from running away from danger and protecting his ass already. "Before, you came along and managed to distracted SCP-073 mid sentence. I was about to pretend to follow him to only go to the opposite way. Honestly, what the hell is up with you?!" This seem to caught off the doctor with your sudden burst of anger, though obviously he didn't seem to react to it. Before he could respond, SCP-682 burst in. His blood drips down from his matted fur... skin... thing, face, and claws. His tail swayed dangerously as he admitted a growl. "T̶h̵e̸r̸e̸ ̶y̷o̵u̵ ̴a̷r̶e̸..." The elevator opened behind you as the two of you cautiously pulled back.

Quickly, Dr. Gears pulled you inside. Firing a few shots at the beast to at least distract him momentarily. You quickly mashed the up button, hoping that the beast doesn't come in pissed and maul the two of you, or even worse, destroy the elevator. SCP-682 roared loudly at Gears' attack and him daring to touch what SCP-682 considers his. Your breathing became rapid when you saw SCP-682 dashing towards you. Though the doors closed shut, SCP-682's claws went through - almost slashing your chest. Dr. Gears pulled you closer to him, as the beast's hand left scrapes on the floor. With a groan and metal being scratched together, the elevator slowly went up. You pushed yourself away from Dr. Gears, already feeling sick and lightheaded from the near death experience. You're going to quit after this whole thing comes to an end. Leaning against the bars of the elevator, you slowly pulled in deep breaths. You looked over where the doctor is at, lo and behold, unsuprisenly the fucker is still unfazed on what just happened - despite showing some emotion earlier. The elevator groaned as it came become to a halt.

Dr. Gears slinked in-between the pried doors, as you began to reload your firearm. This is your only last round of bullets... Gonna have to go melee for a while until then... Stepping out of the elevator, suddenly your head got hit by something blunt. Vision hazy, you tried to get up but it hurts too fucking badly. You tried to move away only to end up passing out, before a blurry figure appeared.

Dr. Gears carefully took off your body camera and smashed the lens before picking you up bridal style. Though he doesn't want to hurt you, this was the only way to neutralize you. If he tried to take you far away from the foundation life, he knows that you won't go down without a fight. He finally broke into a small smile as he now realized that you'll finally be with him. No longer have to be cold and collected for professionalism. The two of you can now rest together...

"Que penses-tu faire au juste?"

"What are you doing?"

"L̵e̴t̸ ̸g̷o̸ ̶o̶f̶ ̴h̸e̸r̷!"

Oh... Seems like Dr. Gears have a competition...

------------

Que penses-tu faire au juste? - Just what do you think you're doing? (French)

#scp foundation #scp containment breach #scp 049 #scp 073 #scp 682 #plague doctor #cain #hard to destroy reptile #Dr. Gears scp #yandere #secure contain protect #long fic

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kokiseiko · 3 years

Text

Fleeting Touches and Unbreakable Bonds

Shouta Aizawa x Reader; Hizashi Yamada x Reader

Song Recommendation: All I Ask - Adele

(Y/N) – Your Name

(L/N) – Last Name

Word Count: 1.8k +

Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku no Hero Academia

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Pro-Hero!Reader; Hizashi Yamada x Pro-Hero!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Angst, Bittersweet

Summary: Is it possible to love someone so much that you can’t let go even after death?

Note: This is a special request made by my lovely fellow Aizawa simp: @nire-chann.

Thank you for beta-reading this for me Ate Selene @yourgoddessselene | @saudade-mayari

The events that had happened at the start of this fic are a few months after Aizawa became a teacher at UA.

A rush of sudden adrenaline that wracks your body, heart pounding, ears ringing, your entire system shaking with emotions you can’t even pinpoint. Walking towards the white-lined road of the city, the rays of the noon sun spilling all over the bent light posts, the once smooth grey cement on the sidewalks now cracked, malfunctioning traffic lights blinking and crackling, the aftermath: debris of the earlier commotion.

It was an explosion, a burst of dust-filled smoke that pained the eyes of individuals who unfortunately had it opened, then a sickening crash of building facades, window splinters raining throughout the area, injuring civilians from which you’ve catered immediately. Quickly healing wounds and giving directions for immediate evacuation.

You were Frantic. Desperate. Searching throughout the wreckage even when your quirk wasn’t for such. Continuing to move through the rubbles of building you spot the shine of the once yellow gear now cracked, broken into three, not far from it was a mass of black, crimson spilling underneath him, a shine of a bloodied band adorning his right hand.

You knew that it was near impossible even with your quirk to stabilize him, yet you continue, hands glowing in hues of emerald as you move his blood-soaked charcoal locks.

---

He feels lighter every passing second, but your presence grounds him. There’s so much more to say, to feel, to do. He sighs internally, he looks at you with such intent, he wants to let you know, to speak to you, but how can he, when his throat feels restricted. Even lifting his hand to touch your tear-stained cheeks to help ease the furrow in your brows had him use too much energy.

There was so much more, but having to look at you with all the emotions he could muster in his two light-grey orbs are what he could only communicate with. He can’t speak anymore, but he wants to at least taste your lips one last time.

To at least feel your heat and the cool contrast of your wet cheeks.

He’s barely noticing the tingle of nerves, that strange warm sensation he used to feel whenever you used to tend to his wounds, his injuries. His eyes wrinkle slightly when he remembers your pout during a rant a few days ago, your plump lips moving and going on about him being reckless.

He’s doing it again, but it has been too long since he had let himself fall through a never-ending well of questions, of replays, flashbacks, images, doubts, concerns. This may be the last time he’ll ever let himself tumble throughout the dark abyss of just him and his thoughts.

Was he content? He doesn’t know.

He just simply wants to remember your smile, your tears. You.

You were his anchor back then. Back when he was crumbling into a mess of a wanna-be hero who had his friend die during Hero-Work Studies.

You pulled him up when he was too tired to even recognize and register the warmth feeling in his chest that was being overpowered with guilt, regret, and frustration.

He never really accommodated these positive feelings, thinking that they would just be swept away with a whoosh of wind, only to return with a hard blow of hatred, anger, and pain.

He doesn’t want to experience that again, to go through that momentary shock and be hit with the sad consciousness of reality.

His throaty whisper was heard above the ringing in your ears: “Thank you…” for loving me, he wants to add, for being with me… I’ve loved you, tears cascading his cheeks

“I’m sorry…” for not acknowledging these wonderful feelings, for taking so long to let you know that, looking to your also wet cheeks, eyes pooling with tears from frustration? Sadness? Pain? Maybe a mix of three he guessed, “… I love you.”

He feels the gradual easing of his muscles all throughout his body. The blood rushing throughout his veins were subliminally slowing. The wet pelts of your tears dropping down his features would be a mere afterthought if he wasn’t focusing so much on you, but alas, his own mind was keeping him from doing so.

Even within his last seconds, his mind kept him prisoner.

His mind where everything was being played. His head spinning with the rapid successions of memories he subconsciously held dear. The majority of the replays containing you, your comforting touch when he needed an anchor, your soft kisses during those casual dates back in his favorite café, the hitch of your breath when you momentarily stopped the cute cooing noises you made whenever you petted the cats as you trailed your eyes on his kneeling form, your whispered ‘yes’ when he finally popped the question “Marry me?”, your wobbly smile when you walked down the red-carpeted aisle, the crack of your voice as your eyes that were holding nothing but love and adoration staring right at him as you began to state your vows began to pool.

Smiling.

He never thought that in his last moments he would be smiling. You’ve made him do things he thought he’d never do in this short life of his. And for that, he’s thankful.

You are truly something else.

***

Breathing was hard. His every inhale didn’t even feel like air, it’s akin to something much more condense. Black was all that surrounds him: a pool of nothing but midnight skies. A weird sensation constantly falling down to a never-ending night is what grounds him to- what exactly.

Though his throat was constricted, a single sound not able to flutter out his lips, his thoughts seemed loud on this vast plain of nothingness.

Where was he?

How can he even breathe?

“You’re still bound.”

What?

“You need to let go.”

Looking around him to at least locate the voice’s body was futile. Was this in his head?

“No. You’re in the middle. Stuck.”

Middle?

“Your time’s done, but you’re still tied down… by your bonds. Let go.”

Realizing what this meant he answered the disembodied voice in his head, I can’t.

A chilling gust of an unknown wind made its way throughout his existence.

***

It can’t be. He knows it can’t happen. He died. How can he still be standing- oh.

He doesn’t know whatever the wind did to him, but he at least deduced that it returned him to you.

You who was now kneeling in the mix of wet gravel and grass whilst staring into the distance with streams still flowing down your puffed eyes, cheeks streaked with layers of endless tears that managed to drip down your wobbling chin, your neck covered in his scarf that had splats of dried hazel-vermillion.

How long was he falling back there?

Two new sounds of weeping.

He sees that the usual gravity-defying golden hair was now instead streaking down the shoulders of a black leather jacket-clad voice hero. Mic. A figure kneeling down beside your form, hugging your side, whose body shook with great intensity together with yours. Midnight.

He aches. Thorns felt like they were encasing him within.

For a moment he wants to hold you, to comfort you, placing his hand to your other shoulder, placing the loose strand of hair behind your ear, but you don’t seem to sense him.

***

It’s been a long month of just watching, of just seeing but not being able to do anything. He hates the unfairness of it all.

He tries. Convincing himself that his touches were felt, that his hugs were warming your numbness, that his kisses were making the sting dwindle little by little, that him laying by the other side of your bed while you sleep with a pillow covered in his old shirt lets you know that he’s still there, that he still loves you, that he still can’t won’t let go.

His touches on your shoulder, which were supposed to reassure you just in turn made you shiver and look confused, bewildered even.

He wants to be heard, to be felt, to exist, but his traces no longer lingered, only a mere susurrate, a short-lived touch in your still graying ambience.

He wants to hold you while you cry and let all of the frustrations out of that head of yours, where he knows that like him you’re stuck, in your own scribbles of granite thoughts, that you too were deprived of the other’s warmth, that you too felt like a shell stuck with all of this sand you called your chaos, your blurring mix of feelings.

And as weeks turns into fleeting months. Months of winter blooming into a spring of years, left on autumn, in auto-pilot, watching, always nearby to see you recover. Recover from the debris and aching splinters that his existence left behind, while he still remains crumbling, pieces of him falling.

“Thank you Hizashi… you grounded me when it all felt like a dream.”

He should’ve been the one doing what Hizashi is now. It should’ve been black instead of gold that you were nuzzling into. It should’ve been his deep baritone rather than the smooth and gentle voice Hizashi uses whenever he encourages, supports, and anchors you.

He should’ve been the one holding your hand whenever you sit in a creaky wooden bench in a nearby park to admire the sunset.

“I know that it’s impossible to reciprocate what I’m about to say, but I at least wanted to let you know-”

“I like you too, Zashi’.”

He should’ve been the one you’re tending, taking care of. Your tears of frustration and aura of concern that was once reserved for him was now for another blond.

“Zashi’ you should start being much more careful you know?”

“I promise I will- ow!”, your smiles at his friend’s idiotic antics just adds jealousy to his mix of resentment and longing.

He should’ve been the only one who sees your gaze of fondness swirling in your beautiful solemn orbs.

But he can’t. He can’t anymore.

And to that he goes back to that midnight swirl, that feeling of falling, to that voice inside his head that was constantly questioning him, encouraging him to release the rope that was still bruising his slowly crumbling heart that he’s put at the back of his mind, not yet wanting to face the reality of the other side, a world without your soft hands holding his cheeks, an existence without your love.

“Surrender Shouta…”

It all felt like déjà vu. Your pretty face blurred with the sheer veil. Soft smiles and salty droplets of tears. The gold-lined red carpet. The people present. It was all like back then, but instead of that classic black tuxedo and a black bow tie, it was a white suit and a navy blue tie.

You’re smiling… at him. Looking directly at him.

It was a whisper, a message just for him; words that helped him to finally let go, to accept, and to be patient.

“Shouta… I hope that you still remember that you will forever be a part of me. Until the next life Shouta Aizawa. Wait for me, we’ll start again; continue what we can’t finish.”

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I hope you all liked this piece. My requests are (finally) open.

#Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa #Shouta Aizawa Fanfic #Aizawa Fanfics #BNHA Fanfic #Shouta Aizawa x You #Shouta Aizawa x Reader #Hizashi Yamada #Yamada #Hizashi Yamada Fanfic #Yamada Fanfics #Hizashi Yamada x You #Hizashi Yamada x Reader #Eraserhead #Present Mic #Eraserhead x Reader #Present Mic x Reader

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 3 years

Note

If possible... Headcannons/fanfic from 2p Germany and 2p Russia, separately, taking interest in a friend from one country? Context: The country's friend is immortal, because of problems she went in her country's replacement at the meeting with the other countries. She has a very affectionate and outgoing personality, so she quickly picks up romantic interest from the attendees.

Sorry it took so long. Here it is!

2p Russia

A lone tall man walked through the basement halls of the United Nations building. His large, long blacked coat protected him from the chill of the A.C. and in his left hand was a simple black briefcase. His steps were quiet along the concrete, but his momentary silence would not last for much longer.

A set of steel doors sat closed and was located at the end of the hall. The sounds that lied within warned of chaos and death. Viktor blew a hard breath through his nose, as much as he wanted to leave, this meeting was important. It was the first time in a long time that all the 2ps were meeting and to avoid it could be costly.

Opening the door Viktor noticed that many nations were grouped together. The Nordics were in the back corner of the room talking about business. Germany and Italy were near their seats, both seemed to be scanning the crowd. Viktor guessed it was to see the missing member of their trio. Once Viktor found his seat, his eyes wandered around again.

This time his eye drifted over to the FACE family. Normally there were shouts and the clink of coins hitting glass, but today it was much quieter. As Viktor looked closer at the four, he realized something. Allen wasn’t there. Instead, there was a woman among them. She was (Y/H) and had (S/C) skin. The strange woman was leaning against the sitting blond Canadian. Both were talking and were smiling. Viktor did note that Matt seemed to have a small blush on his face. His observation was interrupted by a voice.

“All right-a everyone. Take your-a seats and shut-a up!”

Viktor grunted and looked over as the woman moved to take Allen’s seat. His eyebrow rose, this would take some investigating. But that would have to wait.

The meeting went almost as Viktor had expected. Various nations would present an issue, try to make it seem that their homes were thriving, and others would say their piece on an issue. During each part of this song and dance, some nation would then distract everyone. The main offender this time happened to be Macau. He had been going around attempting to piss of Italy so that he could win a bet.

Overall a normal meeting, but Viktor could not help but be distracted by the (E/C) beauty. She had been outgoing the entire meeting. Asking questions to the presenters, offering solutions, and overall being pleasant. It was cute, but there was one habit that stood out, pet names. Each person was given their own.

Despite the cuteness, Viktor was getting annoyed. It was not at the charming lady, but rather at his fellow nations. Their infatuation was apparent in the blushes and sudden smiles that came from their interactions with her. Viktor was not pleased with how others looked at her like a meal or a treasure. He also wasn’t pleased that he was feeling this way over a stranger, better yet a stranger attached to Allen.

With the end of the meeting came the desire for answers. Viktor rose quickly like a weasel looking for prey. He moved calmly and quickly over to the stranger. There he stood, in front of her but unnoticed, while she giggled and affectionately was playing around with England. Viktor felt his ire increase when she gave the killer baker a kiss. His blush made Viktor’s stomach twist in a painful way.

Before confronting her, Viktor looked over to the Canadian that seemed to be looking over at the pair jealously.

“Kaнaдa, who is this?”

“That’s (Y/N) (L/N). An old friend of Al’s, we’ve known her since childhood and since Al’s buried under work, he asked her to step in for him.”

Viktor just hummed in response. This woman was becoming more interesting. With two steps and a cough, Viktor stood in front of the playful pair.

Their attention turned to him quickly. The Brit did not look happy to be interrupted, while the woman smiled at him. Using his practiced grace Viktor reached out and took her hand. A gentle kiss was placed upon it.

“Hello, Ms. (L/N). I am the Russian Federation. Is there a chance you have a moment to discuss some things with me?”

(Y/N) covered her mouth and giggled. To Viktor, and many others it sounded like silver bells.

“Of course, I have some time before I have to get these notes to Al.”

Being the gentleman, he offered her his elbow. She responded with a bright smile and (Y/N) hooked her arm into his and followed the red eyed male out.

It was not long before they found a spot to sit and discuss. Their conversations soon left the topics of business and became more personal. Viktor was intrigued, despite the difference in the centuries she had lived, he couldn’t help but feel connected to her. To him her presence felt like a balm for his soul.

A beeping turned the chatting duo into silent statues. It was (Y/N)’s phone. She glanced quickly at it and grimaced.

“I’m sorry Viktor, I have got to get going. Al’s waiting for me and these papers.”

Of course. Allen just had to cut their time short. Standing alongside (Y/N), Viktor offered to give her a ride. Just something to give him more time to bask in her glow.

Being the true optimist, (Y/N) accepted with an enthusiastic yes!

The trip to his car and then to Al’s apartment felt too fast for Viktor. Before (Y/N) could leave the car. Viktor looked at (Y/N), he felt emotions that could not be explained easily, but he knew one thing. He needed to get to know (Y/N) better. So, he was going to take a chance.

“Would you care to go on a date with me? It is nothing serious, just a chance for us to get to know one another better.”

(Y/N) was not surprised. She just smiled and looked back at Viktor while getting out of the car.

“I would love to, but you need to realize one thing. I have noticed quite a few nations giving me the same goo-goo eyes that you have. So, be prepared for a fight for my heart.”

With a wink and giving Viktor a small sheet of paper, (Y/N) was gone. She had waltzed into Allen’s apartment building like a dream.

Looking down Viktor saw that the sheet was her phone number. Despite his cold heart, Viktor smirked to himself. He would figure out these feelings and if God willed it, he would secure her heart.

2p Germany

It was too loud and cold in this basement. The chaos had decided to get started before the meeting. Nations were yelling and weapons were flying. The A.C. was blowing like it was the reason for the next ice age. It was all annoying. All Luther wanted to do was sleep, maybe people watch, but that wouldn’t happen if these conditions continued.

With a deep groan Luther sat up straight and stretched. The sound of a satisfying pop alerted him that his stretching had relaxed muscles.

Luther glanced at the clock, and his head tilted to the left like a confused puppy. It was about ten minutes after the hour. That means the meeting should have started ten minutes ago, why hadn’t it started? He glanced around and understood one thing. Luciano, aka Italy, was not there.

Luther felt a little embarrassed he should have realized that earlier, but in his defense, the exhaustion and the beginnings of a headache ate at his awareness. Before he could wonder about the location of his missing Genosse, a (Y/H) woman ran over to the podium at the front of the room.

Her hair was wild, her face was flushed, gorgeous (E/C) looked around excitedly. She carried a smile as she reached forward and tapped on the microphone.

“Hello everyone, I apologize for being late. But I am (Y/N) (L/N) and I’m stepping in for Italy today. Sadly, he is out due to getting grounded and he has asked that I lead this meeting.”

Luther raised a brow and smirked. How cute. This pretty little vixen was now attempting to lead the meeting. The next few hours would be fun, well for him anyway.

For many nations the meeting was considered normal. Interruptions and fighting, before the more business-oriented nations took back control. This included the lovely (Y/N), but try as she may to keep the focus, many nations shattered her attempts like already cracked glass.

For one thing, Austria could not leave (Y/N) be. He was constantly interrupting presenting nations by breaking in rock ballads, mostly singing about (Y/N). While Norway was asking her whether or not she wanted to see a flaming heart, no one was quite sure what that mean. Since it was Norway, everyone knew that fire and pyros should not mix, except for (Y/N). Luckily Denmark stopped him by confiscating his lighter. Lastly, Luther joined in. He was dropping pickup lines and teasing (Y/N). Other nations did some stuff too, but it was not as entertaining as those three.

Throughout it all (Y/N) just giggled and responded with affection. In some cases, it was a compliment, other nations got gentle gestures. Those that received her affection either blushed or looked a little shocked.

Luther knew (Y/N) was gorgeous before, but her outgoing and sweet nature made her much more lovely. He thought he might be developing a crush, but Luther didn’t dwell to long on that thought. Mostly because everyone was getting up to leave and some of his rivals were closing in on (Y/N).

Without thinking it through, Luther quickly moved to take a spot by (Y/N)’s side. (Y/N) was surprised but didn’t seem to be against his presence. Luther gave a side smile and asked to walk her out. Somehow (Y/N)’s smile got even bigger, and she nodded.

Together they walked out of the cold, basement room. Luther gave dark glares at nearby nations while (Y/N) smiled and waved at the nations that walked by.

As they walked, Luther decided to get to know this little beauty more.

“So, how long have you known Luciano?”

“Since the third century, after all we grew up together in a way, though I am still way younger than him.”

This comment caused Luther to stop walking. Was she like them or some other thing that he didn’t know existed? Any way Luciano has some explaining to do later.

Luther watched as (Y/N) slowed, stopped and looked back at him. Her eyes seemed to be full of mischief and a cat-like smile rested on her face.

“Luther, if you don’t want to walk me to Luci’s I’m sure some other nation would be more than happy to take your place.”

Luther’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t expecting this sweet woman to be an observant and playful tease. It was hot.

“Liebling, why call someone else when I’m the only one you need.”

Both let out a chuckle as they stepped through the door that led into the stairwell. This seems to be the start of a classic love story.

#2p headcanons #2p hetalia #2p russia #2p germany #x reader #fic

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bonvoyagenoona · 3 years

Note

Can I have some soft post-surgical comfort?

I know it's outside the norm 😖 so you totally don't have to if you don't want to!....but if you wanna...

Who insists on staying the night with you after your surgery?

Who fusses over every move you try to make to get up before you finally have to snap and be like "can you pee for me?! No? Then let me get up" 😆

Who brings you homemade soup?

Who comes to check on you and ends up cleaning your house?

Again, totally ignore this if you're not comfortable with it. I'm day 3 post op and I'm doing okay but am super emotional 😭. Had to give up the pain meds because of undesirable side effects lol. Hope you're having a good weekend!

-🍹

Ah, Chealse! Sending you all good things and thoughts as you recover! Hoping you're feeling better with each day. Here to give you your dose of comfort as requested and prescribed. All the soft smiles, hugs, and feels, dear 🍹thotanon. Eat up and rest well, friend.

Q: Who insists on staying the night with you after your surgery? A: Jimin

He stayed with the maknae when he was injured. He's patient and kind, always waiting with whoever needs that extra time. And now, Jimin might as well be your new IV, fixed to your side since the moment you checked out of the hospital. His signature gentle attentiveness can be seen in the way he got your apartment ready for your recovery, even moving your bed into the living room, setting up your blackout curtains there, and organizing all your meals in your freezer. It can be noted in the way he fills out all of your medical forms for you, collects all your paperwork and notes, studying them over and over to make sure he’s got the treatment plan right, and the emergency numbers memorized as well as programmed into both of your phones. Most strongly, it can be felt in his hands, as he rolled your wheelchair to the car, as he helped you back into your bed, and as he holds your hand now, fingers interlaced, both of you lying quietly in the glow of the TV. You pull him closer, knowing that he's choosing to stay pinned to the edge of the bed to give you as much space as possible. "You need to sleep," he mumbles. "So do you," you whisper back. Jimin's eyes widen, and you see them sparkling, even in the dark. "I'm not sleeping," he tells you firmly. "I'm here for you tonight. Watching over you. Keeping you safe and comfortable. So close your eyes, jagiya. I've got you." He leans over and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, carefully stroking your tired arms. "Time for you to rest."

Q: Who fusses over every move you try to make to get up before you finally have to snap and be like "can you pee for me?! No? Then let me get up" 😆 A: Jin

"What are you doing! Lie down!" Jin yells, his ears starting to turn red. "I have to pee!" you yell back as forcefully as you can. "You'll rip your stitches if you keep yelling!" Jin screams back, his voice moving closer and catching you in the hallway between your bedroom and your bathroom. "I said I have to pee!" you giggle, as he glares at you with incredulity. Jin shakes his head, but he's so annoyed that your pill bottles are also shaking in his hands. "I was in the middle of doling out your medication for the week! You need to tell me when you need something!" Jin exclaims. He matches over to your nightstand and picks up the tiny bell he gave you. "That's what this is for!" he cries, ding-a-ling-a-linging the bell between his free forefinger and thumb. "I have to pee!" you say again, fearing leaking through the mismatching pajamas that Jin hilariously and awkwardly helped you into. Jin sets down the bell and pill bottles to carefully pick you up and walk you the three feet to the bathroom, making you giggle for only maybe the fifth time in the past month. He's made things so much lighter, even showing you how light your body is by easily picking you up, reminding you that things didn't used to be this heavy. "I wish I could pee for you," Jin tells you regretfully, making you cackle as he sets you back down. And then, he shares a serious but joyful smile. "Though I can't do that, I'm here for whatever you need," Jin tells you softly, smiling and kissing you. That smile turns into a smirk. "So start using the damn bell!"

Q: Who brings you homemade soup? A: Yoongi

"Yoongi?" you ask, surprised. He shuffles his stance and leans in your doorway, holding the waxy handle of a big brown bag in his hands. "It's so late?" you mention. "Sorry, but when you texted that you couldn't sleep, I got worried. And when you said you couldn't eat, I got to work." As he steps inside, you move back gingerly, crouching and careful not to injure yourself. Yoongi sets the bag down on your kitchen counter and starts to unpack container after container. "Chicken noodle. Egg drop. Tomato. Sweet corn. Miso." He turns to you. "I know you love kimchi stew and chicken tortilla, but I figured you should stick to mild things for now." You smile at him. "You're here to bring me soup? That you made?? At 2 in the morning???" He frowns before turning away, mumbling something about just wanting to do something nice, that you didn't have to eat any of it, that they're just here if you want… And then he feels your cool hands on his shoulder, and he turns around to receive your appreciative kiss on his lips. The look on his face tells you that it's not just about the soup. It's also that he wants to do anything that can bring you comfort. Fill you up. Make you warm again. "Spend the night?" you ask hopefully. Yoongi smiles. "My backpack's in the hall." He kisses you again, lips moving tenderly, hoping not to cause you any pain. "Let me get it and then warm up the soup you want to start with. I'm guessing… the sweet corn?" Your heart is already full and warm at how well Yoongi knows you. And how much he cares for you.

Q: Who comes to check on you and ends up cleaning your house? A: Hobi

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of dishes being put away. You struggle to sit up, reminding yourself to take it easy. After a few minutes, you swing your legs over the edge of your mattress and slowly step into your living room. When you call Hobi's name, he startled and clutches his chest. "You scared me!" he exclaims. "What are you doing here?" you ask, furrowing your brow. But then you start to put it together. Three days ago, your floors were swept, mopped, and waxed. Two days ago, you found your laundry mysteriously done. Yesterday, your trash had been emptied. You chalked it up to simply losing track of time from the pain meds you were on, but now, it all makes sense. “How are you feeling?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “Good, now that I know that you are my mysterious chore guardian angel,” you say, smiling and leaning on the counter. Hobi grins bashfully. And then his eyes blink wide. “I hope it’s OK…” He sets down the stack of dishes that he was putting into the cupboard and sticks his hand in his pocket. He pulls out the spare key that you’d given him before your surgery. “I just didn’t want you to have to worry about anything,” he explains. “And I didn’t want to wake you each time I came over. You looked so tired.” You smile and have enough energy to nod encouragingly. “Thank you.” With you reaffirming that he’s made the right decisions, and that he’s taken good care of you, he walks over to you and kisses you on the forehead. “You know,” he whispers to you, as you lean into his warm hug, “it’s no trouble. I could keep taking care of you like this." You look up at him and press another kiss to his lips with the soft, new love you have for each other. “Then hang onto that key for as long as you like,” you tell him, hugging him back.

More Important Questions

#bts fanfiction #bts drabbles #yoongi fluff #jimin fluff #hobi fluff #jin fluff #bts fluff #bts comfort #important questions #🍹thotanon #chealsecharm #feel better soon!!!!#jin comfort #hobi comfort #jimin comfort #yoongi comfort

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cloud-9ine · 3 years

Text

Through a Golden Lens (pt 1)

⤷ pairing - hawks x (fem) reader

⤷ fandom - bnha

⤷ warnings - some language, hawks flirting, reader’s cynicism

⤷ summary - reader is a bitter, overworked photographer at a hero press agency with little patience for her newly assigned muse- hawks

⤷ word count - 4.5k+

⤷ notes - i have lots of ideas so this is probably going to be a multi-part series. also new to tumblr so this might not be the best

⤷ pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

“Mr. Hawks! Please look this way!” his heavy lidded eyes rolled to the side as another blinding flash burned through his vision.

“You look perfect, thank you!” it was hard to smile for their benefit, but he managed. Hawks had attended countless of these events for the press. It had been exhilarating at first, with the rush of adrenaline from the cameras and the lights and the endless stream of compliments solidifying his place in the public eye.

Nowadays, it was less thrilling. After a while, they all seemed the same- each one blurring into a senseless flare of cameras and hollow accolades.

He was bored, to say the least.

“Mr Hawks, would you like to come and see? I’d love to hear your opinion on this set!” with a practiced, easy smirk he nodded. It was easier to pander to the artist than to criticise their work.

He looked good, but when did he not? The shoots were easy to glide through. All he had to do was pull a boyish grin, ‘make love to the camera’ as the photographers always liked to spout. It didn’t really matter what he did: the public would eat up anything with his face slapped on to the front. They all looked the same to him, anyway.

“Looks good,” he wondered why people were so easily satiated by shallow praises, but as he stared at the younger lady’s blush, he couldn’t help but realise that maybe it was him who had something to do with it.

Hawks couldn’t help his gaze from drifting to the door. His skin prickled in the humidity of all the moving bodies in one enclosed space and he longed to take a step outside and stretch his wings in a way that wasn’t to pose for a magazine.

For a moment, he felt like his prayers had been answered when the door opened, letting in a stream of natural light to breach the artificiality of the modelling room.

”(L/N)! You were supposed to be here over three hours ago!” the woman in front of him exclaimed, ripping the camera away from his view and marching to the figure that appeared in the light. He blinked in surprise: this entire shoot he hadn’t heard her raise her voice above anything but a low mumble when conversing with him, and now she was positively fuming.

You stared down at your co-worker through honey-tinted shades, expression unamused.

“Yeah, and I was also supposed to be out of this job three years ago. We don’t all do what we’re supposed to, cupcake.”

For a moment, Hawks thought you were a model. Tasteful cream turtleneck tucked into heavily creased mocha skirt, caramel beret perched on your head. There were a few metal, classy looking rings wrapped around your fingers, but as far as he could see, no wedding ring. It was pretty standard style for those who worked in the arts, but somehow you wore it so well.

Your hair was a little dishevelled, and the dark circles under your eyes combined with the coffee cup in your hand were obvious signs of a rough night. His eyes locked on to the loopy black handwriting on the brown band around the cup.

(L/N) (Y/N)

You were no model, but Hawks couldn’t see the difference.

His wings beat lightly behind his back as he glided over, weaving through the other photographers and models scattered around the area.

“Hey there, I’m Hawks,” he said smoothly, voice saccharine as he spoke to you. Your attention turned to him as you glanced at him from above the frames of your sunglasses, seemingly unimpressed.

“This the new boytoy, Mizuki?” you asked, eyes raking up and down his figure. Hawks was never one to shy away from the gaze of others, but the way you were inspecting him made him feel so exposed.

“Show some respect,” Mizuki muttered, voice lowered at Hawks’ presence but glare still piercing. You sighed, sparing one last glance at Hawks before snatching the camera out of Mizuki’s hands, leaving her scrambling for the device as you walked away.

“Lemme see what you’ve got already,” Mizuki’s face grew red, half from anger towards you, and half because of the embarrassment of being diminished in front of Hawks.

“(L/N) y-you can’t just come in three hours late and take over! I’ve already done the shoot and Hawks has already expressed that he is pleased with the outcome,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and shooting the shorter woman a glare over your shoulder.

“There’s no way you’re gonna force me to come into work and make me sit here doing nothing,” you sneered, waving the camera around almost teasingly, “you wanted someone actually skilled to do this shoot, and here I am. Let me do my thing,” without waiting for a response, you left, thumb fumbling with the dial that allowed you to scroll through the photos.

Hawks was impressed. You hadn’t bat an eye when you saw him, and while you were very clearly very late, you were confident in your skills and obviously took your job seriously.

“Who was that?” he questioned, wings spreading slightly as his eyes chased after you. Mizuki bowed her head, remorse filling her expression.

“I apologise for her impertinence. That’s (L/N), she was who your original photographer was supposed to be today, but when she didn’t show up I had to take over,” she huffed, “she’s been like this for about a year now, and the boss is prepared to fire her if she keeps it up. So you’d think she’d be able to pull her at together for you, Mr. Hawks...”

After a while, Hawks tuned out her whining, eyes curiously trained on you, surveying your furrowed brows and expression pinched with annoyance as you studied the photos. Although they looked good enough to him, it appeared that you didn’t share the same sentiment.

Hawks didn’t have time to avert his eyes when you turned your head, gaze locking on to his. You raised a slightly suspicious brow, but otherwise didn’t entertain his actions.

“Mizuki, why would you use cool lighting?” you called over your shoulder, not even sparing the decency to turn around and face the person you were addressing. Mizuki frowned, moving to your side. Like a magnet, Hawks did the same, peering over your other shoulder. You eyed him from the corner of your vision for a second before tapping the screen.

“What do you mean?” you sighed at your co-workers words, evidently frustrated.

“Considering you have bird boy over here in dark academia, accented in warmer yellows, using cool lights will bring out too much of a contrast. We need to match the accent colours with warmer lighting, or use a overlay,” you muttered, seemingly addressing yourself more than the two of them. Mizuki just shook her head.

“That would just oversaturate the image,” you snorted, giving her the same patronising look an adult would give a child if they tried to outsmart them.

“Not necessarily. I could spot-reduce saturation in highlight areas during editing. Or, if you really want your contrast, I could neutralise the warmer shades by using a blue, or compliment them using a red,” Hawks didn’t miss the way you said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’. Mizuki looked agitated, her frown growing deeper.

“Even so, we only have white backdrops. That would be a jarring contrast. You’d need something darker or more clustered to make it work. If you wanted a backdrop change you probably should’ve come earlier,” she spoke with a formality that obviously stemmed from Hawks next to her, but you paid no mind. You were silent for a moment, and Hawks could see your eyes narrowing as you were thinking.

“I need a natural background, huh?” you mumbled, thumbing the buttons on the camera. With a shrug, “alright, bird boy, come on, we’re leaving,” Hawks blinked in surprise as you spun on your heel, a grin breaking onto his face. Finally, he got to leave.

“Whatever you say, boss,” you shot him an irritated look.

“Don’t call me that. I’m 22, not 40,” his feathers ruffled up. “Hey, I’m also 22! What a coincidence, right?” he grinned, winking at you. You just responded by rolling your eyes.

Mizuki spluttered, trying in vain to get either one of you to stop as Hawks trailed after you.

“L-Look, you can’t just leave-” you turned, shoving the camera back into her hands, a mirthless smile on your face.

“Watch me,” your voice was cold, goading her to try and stop you, “bird boy, out, now.” Hawks didn’t have to be told twice. Some of the others whispered and muttered as they realised what was going on, but they all fell quiet when you shot them a sharp glare.

He breathed in the fresh air with a content sigh, his chest feeling lighter now he was out the cramped room. The amber glow from the late afternoon sun kissed his tanned skin as he stretched his arms above his head, his forearms flexing slightly under his dark blazer. His eyes shut in bliss and head tilted back, exposing his sharp jawline.

You eyed him slightly, eyes trailing across his features. Now that you had actually left, you were a little lost on what your plan was. You didn’t regret storming out of there, though, nor did you even consider turning back to apologise.

You took your own camera out of the dark camera bag slung across your body, careful not to scratch it on the tripod, and focused the lens on Hawks. It was smaller, a little more compact than the ones Mizuki and the others were using, but you found that it was much better suited for portrait work.

The click of the camera shutter brought Hawks out of his stupor, eyes snapping open and immediately landing on you. Your attention had already been diverted to the screen, studying your work.

“The modelling room is stuffy, I’ll give you that,” you mumbled, zooming in on his face, “but you can stretch while we walk,” Hawks leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the shot.

“Aw, you make me look so good, I’m flattered!” you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be,” you took a large sip of your coffee, moving down the pathway as you thought. Hawks scrambled after you, his wings puffing out when he reached your side. You couldn’t help but gaze at the bright red feathers as he unfurled his wings, a small, happy chirping noise rumbling at the back of his throat once they were fully spread behind your back. They were warm, you noticed, feeling the heat through your turtleneck.

Your vision was filled with a cheeky smirk painted on full lips, Hawks’ face appearing in front of your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you sized him up.

“See something you like?” you rolled your eyes as he purred.

“Not in the slightest, bird brain,” his wings beat behind his back, hand clutching the fabric on his chest.

“Oh, how you wound me!” Hawks cried, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly, which you quickly covered with your coffee cup.

“I’m sure you’ll face a villain that will do greater damage than I could,” he hummed, angling his face towards the sun.

“So, where are we headed?” you chewed on your bottom lip, slinging your camera over your shoulder.

“It can’t be anywhere with lots of traffic, you attract a lot of attention, you know?” it was a rhetorical question, but Hawks’ chest still puffed out in pride at your words.

“Thanks, it’s because of my raging-”

“Shut up,” you cut him off, “either way, I have a pounding headache and I do not have enough shits to give to put up with your fan girls today,” with a sigh, you rubbed your temples. Hawks stared at your clenched teeth.

“Hey, why do you-” “I think I know where we can go,” he frowned.

“You know it’s not polite to interrupt people like that-”

“Sunflowers.” your tone dripped finality as you faced Hawks, a brazen determination in your eyes he hadn’t seen until now. It made his breath hitch in his throat.

Breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and eyebrows furrowed when you sped your pace, gulping down more of your coffee.

“Uh, what?” you waved a hand dismissively.

“There’s a sunflower field in Fukuroi City, I think it’s west from here,” the tiniest of grins etched onto your features, “it’s gonna be a lot more interesting than the rest of those blank background. Plus, the yellow will compliment your clothes, and with the sun low in the sky I’ll get my perfect warm lighting,” you explained. Hawks wasn’t sure exactly how much of a difference it would make, but the idea seemed charming, and it was more exciting than being perpetually flanked by a white screen.

“Sounds good,” he chirped, “although, to be honest, you could take me out anywhere and I wouldn’t mind,” you rolled your eyes.

“That’s a shame, because I don’t intend to hang around any more than I have to,” Hawks pouted, crossing his arms.

“Come on, I wanna know more about you!” you bristled.

“Good for you.” the two of you fell into a beat of silence before Hawks smiled, undaunted.

“I’m sure I can win you over somehow,” shaking your head in disbelief, you lifted the cup to your lips, before looking down disappointedly when you realised it was empty.

“I don’t have enough coffee for this,” you muttered. Hawks’ expression brightened.

“That’s an easy fix: your agency is around here so you must know there area pretty well,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if he was on a casual lunch date and not in the most expensive outfit you’d seen in your entire life, “what’s the best place to grab a coffee?” for a moment, you looked taken aback, before shaking your head.

“Best café in these parts is the Sunset Hour,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “but as much as I have no inhibitions regarding bunking off work, that’s a little too far away. I need to take this pictures before the end of the day or Mizuki’ll submit those crappy ones she took in the studio,” Hawks nodded in understanding, smile never faltering for a second.

“Well I gotta get you your caffeine fix somewhere, so what’s the second best?” your expression scrunched in thought for a moment, before you jutted a thumb over your shoulder.

“There’s a Starbucks across the road,” he snickered seeing your blank expression.

“Not exactly where I would want our first date, but I suppose it’ll do,” rolling your eyes, you shoved the empty cup to his chest, which he gripped almost instinctively.

“Good thing this isn’t a date, then,” Hawks grinned, sending your empty cup on a feather to the nearest bin before chasing after you as you crossed the road. You didn’t spare him a single glance when he appeared at your shoulder, nor when he reached over above your head to open the Starbucks door from behind you.

“So you’re saying we can have our first date somewhere else?” with a shallow sigh, you shook your head.

“What I’m saying is that there’s not gonna be a first date. Not between us,” his chest tightened. God, you were so mean. He’d be into that.

The inside of the Starbucks was a mix between modern, western architecture and traditional Japanese woodwork. The equipment was all cutting edge, and the tables and chairs were made with a sleek mahogany, but the windows were framed with bamboo shutters, and the backroom was separated with shoji sliding doors. It was an curious blend, one that you studied with an interest. The deep, earthy scent of roasted coffee beans heavily imbued the air, filling your nose with the aroma of something far more familiar.

Given it was the late afternoon, and most people tended not to drink caffeine after 2pm, the patrons were few and far in between. Good for you, at least. It meant you wouldn’t get- “Hawks? Sorry to bother you but can we get a picture?” your head turned at the voice that rung out.

Two high school girls stood to your left, hands clutched together in front of their chests and a dark pink coating their cheeks. With a small sigh, you took a step forward in the small queue. Hawks smiled with all the faux charm in the world, an obvious change in his demeanour as his pride spiked.

“Of course! And just as it happens, I have my personal photographer here who can make sure your photos look amazing as you two do!” it took you a moment to register what he had said through the excited squeals of the girls before he clutched your shoulders and pulled you forward, causing you to stumble slightly.

“Your what?” he sent you an audacious smirk, willing you to play along as one of the girls handed you her phone. Your first instinct was to decline, but as you met the eyes of the girls, so eager and bright, you couldn’t find it in you to disappoint them.

Taking a couple steps back, you lifted the phone, slightly angling it so the picture looked more natural, and not that of a celebrity and their fans (even if it was). You squinted angrily at the poor lighting, but tried to rectify it the best you could. The girls looked a little tense, but Hawks was a natural. A liberal smirk played on his lips and shoulders rolled back, relaxed. Even with the low lighting, the highlights on his cheekbone and jawline were indescribably perfect, and you weren’t sure if the credit should go to you or his god-like genes.

“Wow, that’s perfect!” one of the girls cried, her body appearing by your side. You hadn’t even noticed her moving, “thank you so much!” you just nodded, handing her back her phone and crossing your arms, eyes narrowing at Hawks.

“If that’s all, ladies, we best be ordering,” they nodded frantically at Hawks’ words, sharply bowing and spouting their thanks to the two of you countless times. They left the Starbucks, but even outside you could still hear them fawning over the picture. He faced you with a grin, but you couldn’t muster up a smile.

“Don’t go around telling people I’m your personal photographer,” you sneered. He pouted, looking genuinely disappointed for a second. “What, you don’t wanna be mine?” “Not in the slightest.”

“What will be your order, Miss?” the barista had directed the question at you, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. You weren’t surprised, but a small swell of annoyance grew in your mind.

“Can I have a mocha with a double shot of expresso?” Hawks chuckled.

“Might as well have an expresso, you know. You’re basically just taking a shot of caffeine,” you shrugged.

“It’s my favourite drink. I like the chocolate taste,” he looked at you with round eyes, a small squeeze in his chest.

“And you, sir?”

“Oh, I’ll have the same, then,” he didn’t miss the way your eyes darted to him. The barista nodded, tapping for a couple seconds before turning back.

“That’ll be 660 yen,” “I’m paying,” Hawks blurted, even before you could offer. You were silent, a small nod in the affirmative rocking your head. As he handed over the bills, he chuckled. “You know, not that I mind, but usually couples would argue over who’s paying,” you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not a couple,” you watched the barista prepare your drinks, more of a way to occupy yourself rather than a genuine interest, “besides, you’re a lot richer than I am. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I’m sure you can lose 600 yen and still be good,” he hummed happily.

“No disagreements there.” “Are you two eating in or taking out?” the barista asked, in the midst of securing the plastic lids to the top of the cups. Hawks’ eyes sparkled as he turned to you with an excitement you assumed only appeared in children.

“Hey, we can-” “Take out,” you responded, giving a now deflated Hawks a challenging look, “I will leave you here if I have to.” the blonde grinned. “You wouldn’t. You need me for the pictures,” he sang, voice jovial.

“I don’t care about you that much. The sunflowers are probably less annoying subjects anyway,” oh. With no warning, his heart beat sped up, his wings puffing out slightly. Sure, he wouldn’t mind if you were a little nicer to him, but your insults were like a breath of fresh air. There was no doubt that Hawks loved the limelight, loved the popularity he got, but the relentless ass-kissing got old after a while. You kept him on his toes. Even if he was just constantly chasing after you every time you brushed him off, he didn’t care.

“Put those away, bird brain,” it was then he realised his wings had spread further than he intended, stretched out on either side of him. One was curled right around his face, and he almost felt himself blushing as he pulled them in. It was just animal instincts, he assured himself.

The rest of the journey was filled with a one-sided conversation of him talking and commenting on what was around you, with no response from you except the occasional witty retort or light-hearted jab at his expense, each one making his heart flutter. It wasn’t too long before you had arrived, the chain link fence around the plot stretching high above your head and corroded with orange rust.

Rows and rows of bright yellow sunflowers stretched to the horizon, an immense display of summer vitality. The fragrance was potent, a sort of cloying sweetness that you didn’t hate. And just as you were about to enter, you knew you had made a mistake.

“Oh.” Hawks stared at you incredulously, attention switching from your taken aback expression to the sign posted on the gate.

“You didn’t check to see it was open?” you looked up at him, allowing him to survey a tinge of remorse he hadn’t recognised until this point.

“Look, how was I supposed to know? This place has always been open at this time since I was a little kid,” you rubbed your arm, brows furrowed. Hawks sighed, rolling his shoulders back.

“Well, the sun’s too low to go anywhere else outside,” he shrugged, “it’s no biggie, I guess. Those other photos weren’t too bad. Hey, now that we’re free, do you want to- what are you doing?” your foot was halfway in the gaps in the gate, the wedges on your heels making it hard to climb.

“I’m not wasting my day for nothing,” you growled, fingers curling around the metal, “get climbing, bird boy,” with a soft sigh, smile gracing his lips and a warm feeling in his chest, Hawks spread his wings.

“I think you’re forgetting something that’ll make this a lot easier,” you felt a cool draft on your back as Hawks flapped his wings, the feeling being quickly replaced by the warmth of his chest as he pulled you in. A foreign emotion coiled in your stomach, but you convinced yourself that it was just the flight.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other supporting your knees, and all Hawks was thinking that such a gentle flight never felt so calming.

Your feet tapped against the soft soil, sinking in to it slightly when the hero placed you down. You nodded your thanks.

“Let’s go over there, I want the sun coming in from the right,” Hawks nodded, content to just follow your orders. You pulled the tripod from your bag and set it up, adjusting it to your liking as Hawks looked around, trying to think of a pose.

Once everything was ready, you turned your attention to Hawks.

“I want to humanise you,” he grinned curiously as you walked over.

“What do you mean by that?” he nearly gasped when you grabbed his chin, angling his face to the side and slightly up, towards the sun. You took a step closer, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. He bit his lip, hands trembling as you tugged slightly, trying to mess it up a little.

“All the photos I’ve seen on you always put a huge emphasis on either your wings or your hero status, and I don’t really see why,” you mumbled, placing one hand on his jawline while the other fixed his hair to your liking, letting a few strands fall in front of his eyes, “I think that just creates a divide. If they wanted you to seem angelic they should play that up, not just have it the norm,” you huffed, “anyway, I wanna put the emphasis on you and not your wings. So ideally if you could tuck them behind your back that would be wonderful,”

Hawks nodded, disappointment filling him as you stepped away. He made sure not to move as he awkwardly folded his wings over each other and pulled them in, glancing at you with a look of apprehension. You just nodded in approval, leaning down to your camera.

You took plenty of shots, allowing him plenty more opportunities to feel your hands on him (and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it).

“Hey, why were you so late today?” Hawks dared to question while you were analysing your photos. You were perched on a bench, appreciating your work. The late sun cast a golden sheen on his skin, the spattering of glimmering rays highlighting his face in all the right places.

“I was sleeping,” you responded, deleting an out of focus shot. His eyes narrowed.

“What?” “Just as it sounds. Figured if they were gonna make me work so I could only have three hours of sleep a night it was gonna be on their time, not mine,” he frowned, taking a seat next to you.

“They shouldn’t work you that hard,” you shrugged with a hollow laugh, blank gaze in your eyes.

“What am I gonna do? Have them fire me? As much as I hate this job it’s the only thing that pays for my coffee in the morning,” he was silent as you stood up, stretching your arms behind your bag before tucking everything back in your bag.

“Did you want to be a photographer?” he questioned, only to be met with a forlorn smile.

“Maybe at one point.” the two of you lapsed into silence before you sighed.

“Well, I’ve gotta submit these to Mizuki, and I’m sure you need-” Hawks caught your wrist, spinning you back around.

In the glow of the sunset, you looked almost ethereal. Your eyes gleamed, and cheeks warmed in the orange flare. Sunflowers framed your form, and the words caught in his throat, nearly stopping him from saying anything at all.

“Come work for me.” he blurted. You snorted.

“No.” all he could do was smile as you hopped back over the fence, not waiting up for him.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

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tamagochiie · 3 years

Text

when the rumbling came; erwin smith

pairing. Erwin Smith x Fem!reader

synopsis. You were tired of work, of people, and of life treating you poorly. You quickly came to the conclusion that if you were going to end your life, now would probably be a good time as any.

word count. 3.36k

tags + warnings. TRIGGER WARNING! depression, attempted to attempt suicide, reader being completely dead inside (metaphorically), modern!au, office!au (just a pinch), angst, comfort/fluff,

notes. I don’t romanticize depression or suicide. Writing is my way of coping and dealing with everything that’s going on right now; don’t worry, I’m okay, really I am. So, this one shot is more or less self indulgent. Please, if you you’re going through some hardships don’t hesitate to reach out for help. My inbox is also free, and I’m always willing to listen.

You had alway built yourself in a firm foundation made of rocks, that nothing could ever shake you and even if it did, you’d snap back like an elastic band. But very recently, very, very recently, you’ve been living on a faultline and for a while now there’d be tremors - nothing strong enough to shake you, though.

But your foundation soon turned into sand as the weeks came by and stress came to you in waves. The little tremors eventually turned into big ones. You found yourself swaying, crumbling, and now you were barely reaching the end of the week without falling to your knees and weeping, your pleas for mercy hung in the air, right in your face as if it were mocking you.

The home you had built for yourself had fallen into rubble and nothing could protect you.

Nothing could save you from all the wind and rain, and quite frankly, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to be saved. Being saved meant continuing on, meant trudging through the fight and you had no more fight left in you.

So there you sat, on the very edge of the roof of your office building with your feet dangling. Night life in the city glimmered and glowed, completely ignorant to you suffering. But it looked nice and you found yourself thankful because at least life was kind enough to give you one last “good” view before you did the deed.

I’d just have to scoot and I’d be on my way to the pavement, you thought idly.

You weren’t even scared, and maybe that’s what scared you, that you were completely okay with ending it here. That you didn’t even bat an eye when the idea came into your head while you bought yourself a sandwich during your lunch break.

It kinda felt easy like solving 1+1.

So maybe it was your calmness that scared you. Maybe it's the fact that once you had made up your mind, you had been set as if you were picking out clothes for the next day kind of set.

You swung your feet, feeling yourself scooch closer to the edge and your heart didn’t even race - not even a flutter.

You craned your neck back to look at the sky, not a single star in sight. You heavily sighed and played with your hands while you teared up and eventually cried. All the burdens you carried, the responsibilities you shouldered, and the insecurities you kept close to your heart flooded out of you in one single, painstaking sob.

Your chest heaved and your voice cracked as you screamed into a void, knowing you’d never be heard over all the honking and clamouring from the city beneath you.

“I dunno who's listening,” You croak to the night, your throat dry from all the crying, “but if I’m not supposed to die tonight, can you give me a sign...or something? Like, send someone out here to do a handstand or something. If - If there’s like, any sliver of hope I have left or whatever...If I’m not supposed to end here, then just do that because I really dunno if I’m supposed to hang on anymore...”

You never prayed a single prayer in your life, maybe just once when you were wavering in your ability to attain such a fine job as this, or when both your parents fell ill and you were left alone to fend for yourself. But other than that, you more or less suffered silently, cried to yourself when you needed to, and pulled yourself out of trouble.

It was late into the night, so the prayer was already silly to begin with. Everyone had gone home and you made sure of it because you hid in the bathroom until the lights turned off and the floor of your office was completely silent.

And the more you thought about it, as you imagined yourself hiding in that bathroom like a dumbass, you felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Well, it wasn’t like you were going to be alive to bear it into tomorrow morning anyway.

You flinched at the sudden sound of the fire exit creaking open, the metal scratching against the pavement. You turned your head and squinted at the shadows and the little light provided by the exit sign.

“Hello?” You called out to the shadows and flinched when you saw it move, heedlessly pulling yourself away from the edge as you leaned back to take a closer look.

You gasped lowly as a familiar, rather burly figure emerged from the darkness. It was your boss, Mr. Smith, who had his eyes widen in surprise, as if he was shocked to have actually found someone on the roof.

He narrowed his gaze on you and wore a tight lip as he studied you intently. He stayed near the fire exit, hand in the pocket of his clean cut slacks while the other hung by his side.

You had sworn everyone had gone home.

Not everyone, you supposed.

“Can I help you?” You asked through your sniffling, but Mr. Smith kept quiet; the silence grew to be quite awkward the longer he stood there.

After a few beats, he stepped forward, rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt before he ran his fingers through his hair. A tremulous breath escaped his lips as he spun on the heels of his shoes, facing the wall.

You cocked your head, blinking owlishly at him. And in one, fluid motion, with little to no effort, he bent down to lean onto his hands and kicked his feet up to the air, leaning against the wall for support.

He did a handstand.

What?

You would be laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in.

Mr. Smith was still looking directly at you as he stood on his hands, his clothes bunched up beneath his chin while his face burned red from the sudden rush of blood to his head.

All you could do was leave your mouth hanging open, blinking at him in bewilderment.

With a faint grunt, Mr. Smith brought his feet back to the ground and pushed himself off his hands. He brushed his hands together to dust away the dirt before he looked back to you as he ran his hands down the creases of his vest.

“Before you say anything,” He spoke, his voice deep and velvety, “I have absolutely no idea why I did that, but there was a little voice in my head that told me to.”

You licked your lips and stayed quiet, still taking in what had just happened.

“But my question is,” He began, “are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay?” You spat, but you bit your tongue and cleared your throat when you realized who you were talking to. “Sorry,” You quietly muttered, twisting yourself back to look at the building in front of you.

You listened as the footsteps behind you drew closer, ultimately coming to a quiet halt.

“Mind if I join you?” He dipped his head down to look at you and you glanced at him in the corner of your eye, shrugging your shoulders.

Mr. Smith took the spot beside you and swung his feet over the ledge, mirroring the way you sat before digging his hand back into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes.

“You got a lighter?” He asked, sticking a cigarette between his lips. You shook your head, amazed at his nonchalant demeanor. “That’s okay, I’ve got one.”

You watched him with a puzzled look as he lit his cigarette and blew a smoke.

It was pretty obvious what you were trying to do; your eyes were red and looked sore, your cheeks stained with tears, and not to mention you were setting on the ledge of a build without your shoes on.

How was he so calm?

“I’ve seen you around the office,” He recalled, blowing a few more smokes before he turned to you, “you look like a hard worker.”

“Depends on how you define ‘hard worker’,” You mumbled. Mr. Smith brought the cigarette in front of you as if signaling you to take it. You do. “I’m more of a half-assed worker that’s just ebbing and flowing bullshit just to get the job done so I can go home and wallow in self-pity in silence.”

He chuckled. It sounded sweet.

“So why are you sitting on the ledge?”

You drew out a smoke.

“I don’t wanna live anymore.” You deadpanned. “I hate my life and I hate that it’s fucked me in the ass -” You blew another smoke before passing it back to Mr. Smith, your body a lot more calmer and your mind unfiltered, “ - without even my consent.”

“I don’t blame you,” He said earnestly, and it shocked you. The golden boy who strolled up and down the office floors with his chest out, head held high, and a smile that made every woman’s knees go weak was agreeing with you. His eyes looked like it held all the hope and promise in the world, yet he was agreeing with you.“But are you sure you wanna do that? What if life gets better?”

You snickered though no trace of amusement on your face.

“I’ve been living on ‘what ifs’, Mr. Smith,” You pointed out plainly, “I’m not about to keep going. What’s the point of living on ‘what ifs’ when nothing happens? At the end of the day, I’m just an idiot that keeps thinking, ‘What if today’s better?’, ‘What if there’s a new flavor of ice cream that’s been released and it turns out to be my favorite?’ -- it’s stupid.”

“What if your boss gives you a raise?” He smirked at you playfully but you only rolled your eyes. “What? It was worth a try.”

“Your try was shit.”

“What about if you tried a different approach?”

“Look, Mr. Smith,” You sighed in annoyance and snatched the cigarette from his hand and propped it between your lips, “I don’t have a lot of fight left in me, okay? I’ve tried, I failed. That’s it. So, would you just leave me to do what I need to do? Please?”

“If you wanted to kill yourself, you would’ve done it by now.”

You threw him a sour look, offended that he didn’t think you could do it.

But why would you be upset about that?

“You don’t know me.” You muttered.

“I know well enough that if you wanted to call quits, you wouldn’t have sat here for nearly an hour, praying for a sign.”

“You heard?”

He nodded.

“You lied!” You raised your voice and without giving it much thought, you punched him in the arm. “You said you didn’t know why you came up here!”

“Oh, I didn’t,” He calmly argued. “Not completely, anyway. I saw you go up when I was on my way out. When I noticed you didn’t take your things, not even your phone, I had a gut feeling it was something bad.”

“I waited for a little while,” He explained, “I thought that maybe you wanted some fresh air, but the longer I waited, the more worried I got. So I went up the steps just to check on you, and your voice...did you know your voice carries well in the stairwell? I heard your voice, small and completely detached from life. Even then, you were asking for help, and how could I refuse?”

“Do you make it a point to get into other people’s business?”

“Only when they’re trying to take their life.”

“And now what?” You sounded detached and uninterested, and he didn’t blame you for it. He never spoke to you outside of meetings or work, not even once. Of course his words wouldn’t have any impact. “Are you gonna tell me not to go through with it, talk me down or something? You gonna tell me ‘If you can’t live for yourself, then live for me’? That kinda dumb shit?”

He shook his head, a faint pout on his lips. Despite your mocking tone, Mr. Smith remained calm and didn’t take it personally. Though you kinda wish he did, so he could leave you alone.

“No, nothing like that....” Mr. Smith weighed his options, choosing his next words and his next approach carefully.

He’s been here before and he falls into shallow thought, remembering all the things he didn’t do and see if he could do it now.

“I - I’ve been both on both ends of the situation, I just -” Mr. Smith sighed heavily, as he rubbed his hands together, “- I didn’t do anything last time, so - so when I saw you I thought maybe I could somehow make up for it.”

“That kinda sounds shitty,” You pointed out.

It was indeed a shitty thing that you were somehow being used to clear a conscience, but you understood where his heart was at. It was nice that he was trying - it was nice that someone had noticed.

But that’s all that it was for you: it was just nice.

“I’m just so fucking tired,” You admitted, your eyes stinging with fresh tears. You tilted your head back to keep it from spilling, but like all of your attempts at anything, you failed. “I’m so fucking tired of being tired, and nothing’s going right. I’ve tried different approaches, changing my mindset. I even did all these stupid Pinterest self-help boards, but that didn’t help either. I’m desperately grasping for straws and I’ve finally decided to just...stop.”

You rolled your head, looking at your boss with lifeless eyes and it terrified him. He didn’t know what to say - not then and most certainly not now. But what does anyone say to a person who’s given up all hope and interest in living?

You seemed to have made up your mind and Mr. Smith worried that he’d have another life in his hands. He didn’t want that and he found himself growing desperate.

He liked you, whether it be a co-worker or something else, he liked seeing you around the office. You were smart and though you looked soft spoken, you most certainly weren’t. You never ceased to amaze him with the things you submitted, so he truly wondered why you felt so inadequate.

Mr. Smith couldn’t help but blame himself for not paying attention.

“I say don’t die,” He said rather confidentiality, and you furrowed your brows at this. He was becoming persistent in his meddling. “I say wait it out another day or week, and then if you really wanna, fine. I’ll even leave the emergency exit unlocked for you.”

You widened your eyes, your mouth parted but not a single sound came out.

“Why should I wait when I can do it right now?”

“Because of the ‘what ifs’.”

You grunted.

“I already told you --”

“Yes, but what if I tried to help you?”

“I’m not going to be your charity case, Mr. Smith,” You chastised. “I’d rather die than be your charity case.”

“You won’t be,” He said rather calmly. A small smile crept across his lips and his eyes twinkled against the faint glow of the city lights. “You’ll be my friend and I, too, need a friend.”

“Mr. Smith --”

“Call me Erwin.”

You cleared your throat. You felt embarrassed to say the least. You opened your mouth and found it weird when you spoke his name. You didn’t like it, but it was something you could get used to.

“Why would you wanna be my friend?”

“Because life’s fucked me in the ass without my consent, too.” It was weird hearing something so crass coming from the poster boy of perfection and all things pure. You almost thought you’d completely lost it and had imagined he ever said it. “And I heard that suffering with someone makes the experience a little less painful and a little more bearable. So, won’t you be my friend and suffer with me?”

Mr. Smith noticed your hesitance, even more so when he held his left hand out for you to take. It felt formal like he was trying to close a business deal or something. It was a bit weird.

“You’re not gonna be my reason for living,” You said, letting his hand awkwardly hang in the air. But he didn’t bother to retract it. “I’m not looking for a savior.”

“You’re looking for your strength and so am I, so let’s just look together and see what we find, mm?”

You looked at him, studied him. Why did he care so much, and why did you want to know?

After all, you did ask for a sign, yet here you were being stubborn and pretending as if you hadn’t seen it at all. You didn’t believe in miracles or spectacular alignments of the universe, but when you took his hand, you felt a warmth of reassurance - a sense of peace.

Suddenly, with a high pitch yelp from your lips, Mr. Smith quickly moved his left hand and wrapped it over you and pulled you down with him as he threw himself back onto the pavement behind you. His right hand cushioned your blow and he winced in pain when he caught you.

You found yourself tightly gripping onto the material of his sleeve when you took a peak to check on Mr. Smith. He was looking down at you, a nervous smile plastered across his face.

You shoved him off, muttering to yourself as you patted yourself down.

“That was uncalled for.” You grumbled.

“How would I know? You would’ve changed your mind for all I know.”

“I took your hand!” You chided. “That was basically me saying, ‘Okay, I’ll be your friend’! What if you had thrown yourself forward instead!”

“But I didn’t.” He replied calmly, a smile, one that irked you completely, pulled the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, but what if you had?”

“But I didn’t.”

He stood up from the floor and patted the dust and dirt of his pants before reaching down to help you up from the ground.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Mr. Smith grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

You rolled your eyes as he kept his hold around your hand, shaking it.

“Your promises don’t mean much to me.”

It had been months since your moment on the rooftop with Erwin. Though he had been keen, inviting you out for lunch, for dinner, and spared some time for small talk in passing, you were still walking on eggshells, especially because you worried that it might’ve looked unprofessional.

But really, no one cared as much as you did. Everyone had just assumed Erwin was just being kind. But still, it gave you more stress than it did comfort you, and though you had spat a few unkind words his way, he never left.

He always came back with a bright smile and offerings, whether it were candies or actual food.

Eventually, you eased in and you were no longer agitated. You found yourself looking forward to Erwin’s occasional visits to your desk or when he’d ask you out for some coffee.

At the end of every day Erwin would never miss a beat and would ask you how you were doing, and it never felt performative or forced. He was warm and genuine, and he’d share his burdens with you, too.

And you found yourself realizing that he was right, that struggling with someone made things a little less painful and a little more bearable. That despite the struggle, knowing someone so patient and understanding, would be there to catch you.

“Hey,” You spoke over the rim of your freshly brewed tea as you sat across the little round table of the coffee shop. Erwin’s eyes flicked up at you as he took a bite of his muffin. “Thanks,”

He raised a brow and cocked his head to the side, “What for?” He asked, his words muffled by his stuffed mouth.

“Thanks for being my friend.”

He smiled, a few crumbs falling from his lips and onto his plate.

“Thank you for being mine.”

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