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ivystoryweaver · 3 months

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He's Okay

"My dad never defended me. Not once."

Summary: No one ever defended Marc. He doesn't want the same happen to his only son. Word Count: 1.3k

Content: overprotective!Marc, angst, discussions of Marc's past/abuse, mild violence, Marc trying his best, mention of food, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

From the time your son first scooted across the hardwood floor, Marc has existed on high alert during the day and stood constant vigil each night.

Eyes and ears ever aware of the video baby monitor, he would drop anything at a moment's notice if your child uttered so much as a restless sigh or grumpy gurgle.

The first time your baby fussed all night had Marc pacing the floor, one hand tearing through his curls while the other scrolled one baby website after another, attempting to decipher the cause. This came after an hour of holding and rocking the baby himself.

"I think it's just gas - he's okay," you attempted to soothe both your boys, taking your turn walking your little man.

It was. It passed, like every crisis before it.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

When your son began to really crawl, Marc baby-proofed your home three times over. In fact, you had trouble opening the kitchen cabinets now.

The first time your toddler tripped and smacked his chin on the hard floor, Marc was ready to roll up to the emergency room.

"He's okay, just a bump," you tried to convince him.

Marc didn't put his little boy down for the rest of the night, rocking him, icing his chin, giving him snacks, playing "Pat-a-cake" and generally spoiling him rotten. He gave your sweet angel a bath and put him to bed with all his favorite stuffies and his blankie.

"Daddy loves you so much," he soothingly whispered. "I won't let anything hurt you."

Watching discreetly from the doorway, your heart melted.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

When your kiddo started school, you both walked him the few blocks over, each of you holding one hand as his backpack (which practically swallowed his little body whole) flopped rhythmically on the back of his legs.

"Now, remember - you only have to stay until 1:30 - one-three-zero," Marc reminded him, tapping on his digital Spider-Man watch. "Then we'll walk you back and?"

"Go get ice cream sundaes!" Your five-year-old cheered.

Kneeling down, Marc took his son by the shoulders. "You don't have to be afraid. You're gonna be awesome."

"I'm not afraid, Daddy," he proudly beamed, blinking innocently while cocking his head curiously. "Are you afraid?"

Swallowing thickly, Marc locked eyes with you briefly. "I'm proud of you is what I am."

You thought Marc might climb the walls, waiting on your kiddo to get out of that first day of school. Yes, you both took the day off just to be available for this momentous occasion.

"He's okay," you promised, wrapping your arms around him. "He's been waiting for this day to come - you know he has."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

When your son was twelve, he came home with a black eye and a split lip, attempting to duck into his room before his dad could see...

Ever vigilant, Marc's entire body went rigid before a shuddering tremble urged him forward.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, his voice stern - eyes flashing with anger.

Seeing his son shrink away stopped him cold.

"S-sorry. I'm sorry," He stammered, kneeling down in front of him. "What happened to you? Who hurt you?"

Your son had gotten into a fight with another kid during lunch. So there was no one for Marc to unload his rage on.

That night, after your boy fell asleep, you saw Marc sink down on the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Carefully kneeling in front of him, you reached for his hands, caressing his fingers with your own before tenderly kissing each knuckle. Standing up on your knees, you wedged yourself between his thighs, but he turned his head away.

Marc wasn't going to hear you right now. So you gave him a little space, fixed him a drink and took a long shower before checking in again. You found him staring out the bedroom window, gazing up at the moon.

Easing behind him, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of his back. He covered your hands with his own, releasing a heavy sigh.

"When I saw his black eye..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"I know," you softly returned.

Drawing a trembling breath, he pushed his fingers through yours, resting there on his soft abdomen.

"I had so many..." Unable to finish his thought for several long moments, he simply soaked in your love and your touch, steadily drawing breaths in and out to remain calm. "Most of mine were...hidden, under my clothes, but..."

Chomping on your bottom lip, you held back the tears pricking your eyes.

"My dad never defended me. Not once," he whispered. "Not one time."

"Oh baby," you gasped, easing around to hug him for real.

Marc accepted your love - your healing, steady tenderness, folding you close.

"He could have, you know. But he didn't." His voice had faded to a broken whisper.

You understood the entire basis of Marc's parenting philosophy.

"I shouldn't have let him..." he carefully admitted, wincing as he waited on your response, but he couldn't help himself: angry red and brutal blue were colors too familiar. "I can't let him get hurt."

You didn't judge him. He should have known.

"That makes you a damn good father," you said with conviction, turning your gaze up to his.

“When I had Khonshu’s armor, it healed my body, so you can’t see…not anymore.” Sniffing, he shook his head sadly. “Do you think those little cuts on his face will scar?”

“They’re scrapes, they’ll be fine,” you assured him. “The doctor even said so.”

Marc was beginning to realize he couldn’t protect his only son from everything.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

During your son's teenage years, Marc’s (over)protectiveness put some distance between the two of them. Your son was the last kid his age allowed to go online, or go on a date, or get a driver’s license.

But every time he would get angry, Marc would try to extend an olive branch. He would take all his friends to the movies, or simply order a pizza and watch baseball together.

And one day it dawned on him that not one adult ever asked him what he wanted. Or needed. So he asked.

“I just want to feel like you trust me,” your son admitted.

Marc took him to get his license the next week.

Then came the car accident. Because, of course Marc’s only child would be involved in an accident. Marc was expecting it - practically waiting for it.

Thankfully everyone was okay, but the car was totaled.

When you and Marc saw your boy at the scene, you fully expected fireworks, but he charged toward his son, arms open.

“Dad, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry about your car, please don’t be mad.”

And then you witnessed the exact moment Marc far surpassed his own father (as if he hadn't spent you son's whole life doing so).

Taking the boy's face in his hands, he gently smiled. Marc Spector actually smiled in the middle of a life-threatening situation.

“It’s only a car. There are millions of cars.” He touched his forehead to your son's. “There’s only one you. And you’re okay. You’re okay.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Sometimes there were failures or broken hearts. Things Marc couldn't punch or fix or threaten. In fact, a life free from Khonshu's service left him with no one who really needed defending.

Years later, your son dropped by for a visit. The three of you decided to take a walk through the old neighborhood, to his favorite ice cream shop from when he was little. Nostalgia mingled with sugar for a bittersweet concoction that opened your hearts for sharing.

As you ambled back toward home, Marc noticed his son walking beside you protectively, closer to the street. He had opened the door for you, he took your hand as you crossed a puddle and even shielded your body briefly as a stupid teenager breezed by too fast on a motorbike.

It was like looking at a younger version of himself, but he was…softer somehow. Stable. He was a man now. And he was okay.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc Spector-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#moon knight #marc spector #marc spector x reader #dad!marc spector #moon dads

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withclawandvine · 16 days

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tw: mentions of drug use/withdrawal, reader has a child

Touya looks like shit — rumpled, gaunt, a little waxen. All made worse by the fluorescent lights in the hallway of your building, flickering ghoulishly and throwing dramatic shadows as he stands under them. At least he’s standing, this time; he’s not slumped against the wall, ravaged by tremors or cold sweats.

Still, you square yourself defensively in the threshold, arms crossed and mouth tight, trying to keep your voice at a whisper as you rattle off names. “...Fuyumi, or Jin —”

Touya, who had been silently shaking his head with each suggestion finally lets out an aggravated sigh. “Think I’d be doin’ this if anyone else could put me out?”

His whisper, while harsh and impatient, is not loud. But you pause anyway, holding up a finger and tilting your head to listen. When no cries or little feet on hardwood reach your ear, you relax. Touya stares into the dimly lit entryway behind you, his expression unreadable —something that doesn’t come naturally to him. If you can’t tell what he’s thinking by looking at his face, it’s a product of immense effort.

It needles at you, not knowing what he’s feeling, why he’s here of all places, after so long. Why not even Natsuo will open the door for him. But then, you do know Touya — sharp and resentful, and always so, so angry.

The pills made everything softer, or so he used to say. They dulled the shards of memory, and wrapped around all of his own broken pieces. They made him hazy and remote. Lulled him to sleep with his head in your lap, while you sat awake, counting every rise and fall of his chest.

Back then, you were desperate to be the person who stayed. Who else would keep vigil? Who would make him see he was worthy of such devotion, if not you?

That same temptation needles at you even now, as you meet his eyes. They’re heavily shadowed, despondent as ever, but clear.

Looking into them throttles you back in time two, three, five years. Before you learned that you can’t help someone that won’t help himself. Before there came along someone else who needed you, fast asleep in her room.

You start to close the door.

A hand jumps out, stopping it.

“Please,” he says, and you let go. Touya doesn’t beg. A muscle in his jaw jumps and he looks up at the ceiling, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ll stay on the couch — be gone first thing in the morning.”

If for no other reason than the fear of your daughter’s father winding up in a gutter, you find yourself saying, “You know I have to ask.”

Touya flinches. A minute flash of hurt you almost miss before he restores his indifferent mask and answers, “Six weeks ago, yesterday.”

You close your eyes, and after a long, heavy breath, nod to his dusty boots, haphazardly laced. “Take your shoes off out there.”

Your limbs ache with exhaustion, but your mind has been buzzing for hours. When you finally give up on sleeping and pad to the kitchen for a glass of water just before dawn, the apartment is quiet as a graveyard. The silence is oppressive, without the murmur of your neighbor’s television, the hum of the freezer, or, you realize, the soft snores that should be coming from the couch.

You fumble for the nearest light switch, casting a faint beam of light into the living room, onto the rumpled heap of blankets on the floor beside the empty couch. There’s still a body-shaped dip in the cushions.

Your heart betrays you by sinking.

It’s a familiar weight, straining your ribs. Touya always made you ache; he was the bruise you could never stop prodding at.

Either unwilling or incapable of turning back to your own room, you creep to the opposite hallway, where the last door on the left is already cracked open, just enough for you to peer through. A nightlight shines on the toys littering the floor, the crayon scribbles on the walls — and on Touya.

His feet hang off the end of the bed and his head is wedged between the wall and a pillow. But his face is soft and serene as he gently snores, his arms cradling a small, sleeping form.

Your foot carries you forward with one small, tentative step.

You freeze. And then take two steps back.

Letting yourself lean heavy against the doorjamb, you watch them sleep, watch Touya’s shoulders rise and fall — one breath for every two of your daughter’s — until your throat starts to burn and the image of them blurs.

#sorry y’all i’ve been in my feelings about my own sketchy dad #who i thought the world of when i was a little girl #aaannnyyyywayyyy #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #mha x reader #my writing: mha #tw drugs

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yorshie · 8 months

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Help, I can't stop thinking about Donnie just listening to Winnie softly breathe over the phone while he lays back in his bed. Cradling his cell close. Murmuring something like "What have you done to me... ?" as he feels drowsiness seep at the back of his mind. Relaxing into the memory foam, breathing softening as he struggles to keep listening until he eventually slips off.

Wakes up hours later, more rested than he's been in a long long time time.

The call was disconnected automatically (it does that after 3 or 4 hours - a hard limit from the phone company), or maybe one of them shifted in sleep and pressd the hangup button eventually.

And he's left there, staring at the diffuse light from under his bed dancing on his ceiling as the colors shifted, muddied from his nearsightetness, thinking how he would sleep with her beside him for real.

Would she let him hold her?

Is she the restless type?

He's slept through Mikey kicking him in the head once on a mission after keeping watch for 5 hours straight, so he wouldn't mind. Plus, it's not like it'd feel like more than a nudge from her.

It didn's sound like she snored, just soft little breaths and the occassional mumble. It was beyond cute actually.

Would he even be able to fall asleep if she were here?

He had the strangest urge to keep vigil over her as she rested. Would that be creepy?

Smoothe her brow if she had nightmares. Feel the soft sigh of relief fan over his face.

Wondered if she ever dreamt about him. If so, then what role did he play in her mind?

Was he just a memory, something to make her happy and fond after a few hours spent together?

He hoped for that, at least.

Was it possible he was... more? That he plagued her the way she was constantly intruding on his waking hours, sleepless days and the few hours he passed out from sheer exhaustion?

Did she ever dream of forbidden things like he did? Impossible imagined situations of shared breaths and sweeping touches.

Donnie was the furthest thing from stupid. He'd had the observant nature of a researcher since he'd been a tot.

Not like it was hard to see the blushes, the rapid pulse fluttering at her carotid through that thin, fine skin on her neck. The nervous ticks and eagerness to please. Smell the...

But no. That could have just been a natural reaction to flirting. Though he'd yet to sense it whenever Mikey dropped an obvious, if playful, hint. Or Raph got close to ruffle her hair. Or Leo was gallant.

Ran his palms over his face, pulling down at his eyelids. Huffing a bereaved sigh. The mottled skin from his burn mark tingled faintly. A lot of the surface nerves there were dead so he'd never felt much of the pain except for the excruciating agony when he got it. Sometimes the place twinged, but it was deeper than skin level. Like the flesh underneath remembered what it felt like to be whole and sent him little jolting reminders.

But he still remembered how her hand had felt on his that first time. The hot sting of shame that she was disgusted, only to get hit upside the head with something queasy and too big when he'd figured out how scared she'd been at the thought of hurting him, yet remained completely unbother by the ugly mark.

Would she be as unphased if other parts of him touched her? Would she hate that he was obsessively curious how her skin felt? Her hands were soft and small and perfect. Was the rest of her like that too?

Or were her vulnerable spots even softer somehow? Her throat, her face, the insides of her arms and thighs. Her belly and chest. Her mouth and that place between her legs he was activly fighting not to think about too long. Or the faint, alluring scent of her arousal that he sometimes got a little whiff of whenever they were alone and close enough to touch.

Donatello closed his eyes, throat clicking when he swallowed back the rush of saliva that flooded his previously dry mouth.

He should probably get back to work, but he found his scarred hand scooping up the phone in stead. His fingers typing out a quick "Bon matin, ma petite tartine sucrée." and sending it before propriety caught up enough to stop him.

He wpmdered if this was too much too.

He supposed he'd find out when she came down to help him again, that giddiness that always precluded her visits helping him hop out of bed to start his day with renewed vigor.

[Here, some inbox fic so I can torture u with feels too, pls forgive the typos]

😘

TORTURE ME? YOU TORTURE YORSHIE? YOU TORTURE HER WITH SOFT PINING DONNIE? [turtle jail. turtle jail for 1000 years]

[is thrown down a flight of stairs, trips out the window at the bottom, smacks into the grill of a Peterbuildt truck, is transported to a landfill where I will languish until a tall purple terrapin takes pity on me and picks me up and dusts me off]

....the kiss at the end is because you know I read this in one sitting while my cereal got soggy isn't it?

dear god nonnie I'm gonna be absolutely haunted by this.... can i use that line? am i allowed? Oh my god you hit the nail on the head with a mallet and then you just kept swinging.

#ask away!#cw suggestive #suggestive #oh look. it's pick on yorsh day. you all are hilarious.

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futureslaps · 1 year

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The Captive - Chapter 21

Chapter 20. Chapter 22

Sorry this took a bit longer to come out than usual. It would initially have gone up yesterday, but I wasn’t happy with it, so I basically rewrote 90% of it. Anyway, it’s here now, and I hope you like it!

Enjoy💙

Quaritch was outwardly calm as he felt Spider’s breathing slow in his arms, but anger was still burning inside him like a wildfire.

Seeing Spider in such a state, broken and scared out of his mind, endlessly pissed him off. It had taken him a good chunk of his willpower not to immediately demand that Spider tell him what had happened, then somehow break out and kick the nearest native’s ass.

Luckily, even as infuriated as he was, he’d known better. He’d figured out quiet a while ago that any attempt at a breakout would result in immediate death. If the guards were vigilant, they would probably cut him down before he even left the hut. Quaritch wasn’t about to get himself killed in a fit of rage. His time would be up in a few days anyway, so he wasn’t going to waste the time he had left.

He made an effort to calm himself down. He knew had to keep his head on his shoulders, at least while his son was here with him. Spider needed him to be here, calm, and present. Going berserk in front of the kid probably wouldn’t be very helpful. Quaritch tried to shift his mind onto something else to calm himself, but he couldn’t help gritting his teeth as the time passed.

The hut slowly began to illuminate as morning approached. Quaritch’s spirit sank a little when he realized he had to wake Spider already. His son couldn’t have been with him much more than an hour since he’d arrived so late in the night.

He was almost tempted to let Spider keep sleeping. Let Sully find them together, a big fuck you to the man. But he had to put his pride aside. Spider was already hurting now, and Quaritch didn’t want to imagine what would happen to his boy if everything came out. He frowned as he looked down at Spider, sleeping peacefully in his arms. It still hurt like hell to wake him…

For one more moment, he closed his eyes and held Spider as close to him as he could, savoring the final moments of contact. He tried to imagine that Spider truly didn’t have to leave, that everything was okay.

But it wasn’t.

He sighed, braced himself, and shook Spider awake.

“Hmm…?”

“It’s time to go, kid.”

“Already…?” Spider’s voice was tired, broken.

“You got here late last night, kid. You’ve gotta go now, it’s already getting bright outside.”

But Spider didn’t move. He remained in the same position, half holding, half leaning onto Quaritch’s arm.

“Kid?” Spider didn’t answer. Quaritch assumed he must have fallen asleep again. He gave his son a firmer shake.

“Kid.”

But Spider hadn’t been asleep. He turned his head to look up at his dad, tears in his eyes.

“I…I don’t want to go.” Spider’s voice was weak, pleading. It made pangs of guilt shoot through Quaritch.

“I don’t want you to go either, kid. But you’ve gotta. It’s morning.”

Spider shook his head.

“No…you don’t understand. I…I can’t go back. I don’t belong with them.”

The words took Quaritch by surprise. The one thing Spider had always insisted upon his time as Quaritch’s captive was that he belonged with the natives. All of Quaritch’s efforts to convince Spider that he should be among other humans had failed miserably. It had been like talking to a brick wall. It had even, somehow, made Quaritch feel a little proud, seeing that his son had inherited his own sense of loyalty.

What the hell had happened?

Hearing the words from Spider filled him with equal parts sadness and anger.

“Kid…”

Quaritch tried to think of something encouraging to say.

“Those are your people out there. You always told me yourself…”

But Spider shook his head again, the words just upset him more.

“No. They aren’t my people. I was stupid to think they ever were.” Spider croaked out the words.

Quaritch was at a loss. Sully could come through the door at any moment, but he had to try to comfort his son.

“Well…there’s still Sully’s family. I may not like ‘em, but…” Quaritch was desperate even mentioning them like this, but he hoped at least they could inspire some comfort in Spider. But at the mention of the Sullys, Spider let out a sob. He didn’t say anything, but the pained look on his face told Quaritch all he needed to know.

Rage started to rise in him like a wave, surpassing any anger he’d been feeling before.

Sully.

Of course it was Sully behind this.

Quaritch let out a low growl. His son had stayed loyal to Sully the entire time they were together. As far as Quaritch could tell, Spider practically idolized the man. And in exchange, Sully kicks Spider to the curb? Was this some sick revenge? Making Spider suffer to get at him?

The cry of some animal outside snapped him back to reality.

Shit. Spider was still here. As much as it pained him, Spider had to leave now. It was already well into sunrise, and the villagers would be up and about any moment. Spider’s chance to get out unseen was rapidly fading.

Quaritch’s instincts were screaming at him not to, but he forced himself to push Spider out of his arms.

“Kid. You need to go. Now!” Some of the mounting rage he was feeling had slipped into his words. Spider jumped at the sudden aggressiveness.

“Dad…” Spider choked out, tears rolling down his face.

“If you get caught here, we’re both in for a world of pain! Go!”

Spider looked broken. Desperate. The sight tore Quaritch apart.

“Please, dad. I…can’t…”

“Spider.” Quaritch again had to force himself to do what he needed to do. “Go. Now. That is an order!”

He hadn’t used the phrase with Spider in months, but he needed to get the point across.

Spider, stood still for a moment, his bottom lip trembling. His eyes were closed as tears poured down his cheeks. It took all of Quaritch’s willpower not to hug the boy and never let go. Finally, Spider gave a slow nod.

Hesitantly, he made his way to the opening. He took a shaky breath, then, carefully, he crawled back through.

Quaritch let out a small sigh of relief, then, immediately turned and drove his fist into the tree behind him with all his strength. For a moment, he held the pose, shaking. His mind was on fire, overwhelmed by a mixture of fury and anguish.

He took a shaky breath of his, own then swung at the tree again with all his might, again and again. The rage pouring out of him as he sent splinters of bark flying. Some also lodged into his rapidly bloodying hands, but he didn’t care. He only let out a roar of anger.

He fucking hated this.

He hated everything about his situation. He hated that Spider was out there suffering. He hated that his son had to take enormous risks to even visit him. He hated that Sully was making things worse of Spider. Most of all he hated how he couldn’t do shit about it.

His son was going through hell out there, and he just had to sit in this shithole and take it. Quaritch was tempted to try to gnaw through his binds with his bare teeth. He would rip through them like a rapid dog, then he’d tear at the canvas of the hut until he got through or his arms fell off. Anything to get out there, take Spider far away from every blue-skinned bastard around, then put Sully in his fucking place. If he ever got his hands on that motherfucker…

They wouldn’t even have anything left to bury.

He grabbed the thick material binding his legs and pulled at it with all his strength, struggling against it like a wild animal. But, just as always, the ties didn’t budge.

Quaritch let out one more frustrated roar, then let himself fall onto his side.

It was useless.

His anger slowly subsided, replaced by a deep anguish.

Quaritch groaned. It was a pained, tortured sound, a reflection of everything he was feeling. He raised his bloodied hands to his face, holding his head as he lay on the dirt.

What did he even think he could do? He couldn’t even comfort Spider, for god’s sake. He’d had to look his son in the face as he practically begged for comfort, then all but throw him out of the hut. Having to do that had hurt Quaritch more than anything else he could ever remember.

He’d gotten Spider to go, but did it even make things any better? He was more painfully aware than ever of how much Spider was struggling outside.

I can’t go back.

Spider’s words replayed in his head over and over again. He’d saved Spider from getting caught, but he’d sent him back to what seemed to be Hell for the kid.

He let out another anguished groan. He felt so…powerless. Forced to choose between two ways of hurting his own son. It was torture. Everything about his situation was torture.

Having to order Spider away.

The knowledge that things were awful for the kid.

The upcoming trial.

Even the dump he had to stay in.

The fact that he couldn’t do anything about it.

It was all so…painful. Even for him, it was overwhelming.

As he lay on the floor, he felt a single tear roll down the side of his head, mixing with the blood that had dripped from his fists.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d shed a tear. In this new body, it was most likely never. But then again, he’d never been through anything quite like this. Today’s events had finally broken something in him.

He silently cursed Sully while a few more tears left his eyes, as if it could somehow improve things. But he knew that the man had won. There was no other course of events. In six days, Sully would kill him for good, and Spider would be left alone to his own fate. And judging from the way Sully was treating Spider, it wouldn’t be anything good.

Quaritch tried to think of something, anything, to give him hope. He needed something to hold onto. But his mind came up blank.

He let out one last, quiet groan as he lay on the floor, slowly trying to recompose himself. He refused to give Sully the pleasure of seeing him in this condition when he brought the food. But inside, he was shattered.

Sully had won, indeed.

Writing Quaritch telling Spider to leave was painful...

Hope you liked the way I wrote Quaritch finally cracking under the pressure, writing emotional!Quaritch is one of my favorite parts of this fic!

I felt like being forced to tell Spider to leave while he’s literally at his lowest would be enough to make a tough guy like Quaritch reach his breaking point, but idk. I couldn’t resist writing him shedding a tear.

If all the angst is too much, don’t worry. These past chapters were basically rock bottom for most of the characters, so things will start looking up somewhat.

Thanks for reading 💙

Taglist: @yesthisismycurrenthyperfixation @onlyreadz @buzzing-honeybee @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

#avatar #avatar 2 #atwow #avatar quaritch #avatar the way of water #avatar jake #avatar spider #spider socorro #miles quaritch #recom quaritch

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sylvia-songbird · 1 year

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~Escapism~ (a q!Philza & q!Mumza fic)

UPDATE: NOW ON AO3 WOOO!!

I haven't posted anything like this on tumblr before, and it's been ten years since I posted any fics at all...enjoy! (this may also be a part 1 to something longer...depends on how much time I can devote to writing it)

(for extra oomph listen to either Echo in the Wind from the Minecraft 1.20 Soundtrack or Escapism from Steven Universe while reading)

~~~~~

On the first night Philza spent in the birdhouse, he couldn’t help but stay awake. The Federation had taken other members before, but he knew that he couldn’t fall victim to the same fate as Quackity, Forever, or any other person they've kidnapped before. As long as he stayed awake, they couldn’t hurt him. As long as he was conscious, they wouldn’t force medicine down his gullet. As long as he didn’t shut his eyes, he could hold onto some kind of hope that someone would be able to find him.

As long as he was awake, his actions would haunt him. He never thought that he could be fooled so easily because his missing eggs - his children - were used against him as punishment for wanting answers, as any parent would want. He had made sure not to leave any clues behind that would suggest his disappearance. Most of his belongings were neatly put away in a secured chest locked away in his basement, where no one could access them. Who would ever figure out that the wise crow that lives in the wall is gone?

Here’s the thing about sleep - it doesn’t matter who or what you are. Whether egg or bird, human or hybrid…all succumb to sleep at some point. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that even Philza, the famed Angel of Death for all of his vigilance, would drift asleep in his cage.

The dreams bring a reprieve…at first.

~~~~~ He’s with Chayanne and Tallulah, gearing up to fly off of the wall to do some exploring on the island. They glide until they reach the coast, piling into the speedboat to glide along the waters under a starry night sky. They dock at the beach, not far from a desert village. A familiar terrifying scene plays out, with his children’s last breaths in his arms under the stars, a familiar Nightmare. This time, he doesn’t wake up immediately. As the life leaves his children, Philza bleeds out on that beach, the Nightmare still on the hunt for any innocent souls that cross its path as his vision fades.

When Philza opens his eyes again, he’s back at the birdhouse. A familiar, automated laugh echoes through the space, as the other birds huddle together in the rafters. The face of Cucurucho appears in front of him, threatening to seal him away again. Philza screams, trying to reach for that stitched-together bear to get answers, to get anything out of him. Swinging a punch at its face, his fist passes through mist.

It’s taunting him with visions of Chayanne and Tallulah, seeing them run from something inside of the maze Phil and the others found just a few days ago. A slash of a weapon, and their corpses fall to the ground. He runs to catch their bodies, but they shatter on the ground like glass statues…like fragile eggs in need of protection. The pieces cut up his hands, golden ichor and maroon bleeding down his clenched fists. As fear and anger fill his veins, a flash of white erases the entire scene in front of him.

~~~~~ Before Philza is the Void. Or at least, what appears to be the Void in all but name. He knows the Void well, remembering its sting and endless darkness from before he had earned his wings. He knows how it feels to glide in the space between the bottom of the world and the Void, surfing past death’s grasp from one piece of bedrock to the next. There are no galaxies in the Void, no asteroids, no luminescence that would help guide his way home.

Here there are glimmering stars and traces of auroras that shine around him like the midnight sky. Except these auroras stay in similar places, flickering in the wind like gossamer. When Philza looks up, he sees the nebulous vision of a Goddess, reaching out towards him. There is something familiar about that sad smile upon her face, but he just can’t place it.

“My angel…what have they done to you?”

~~~~

Philza wakes up in a corner of the birdhouse, Chayanne’s floaty and Tallulah’s beanie somehow in his grasp. He vividly remembers the nightmares from his sleep, but what happened at the end? Who was that woman? Was her dress actually made from the auroras and nebulas that fill the midnight sky?

Her words to him have melted away as the sun burns through the morning fog.

Philza has boundless amounts of time to wonder about these things, but the anger he feels towards The Federation and the fear of his family being in danger spurs him to try to find a way out of this cage, leaving those thoughts about the nebulous woman behind.

#qsmp #q!philza #qsmp philza #q!mumza #a cage for a cage #q philza #i haven't written in ten years and i come back SWINGING #anyways i might write more because q!philza brainrot go brrrrr #who am i kidding i'm already writing more and might post it on ao3

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galexystern · 1 year

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butterfly wings

chapter ten; spring 1986 (cont.)

pairing; steve harrington/eddie munson/reader aka steddie/reader

rating; T

warnings; angst, fluff, reconciliation, getting together, confessions of love, au - canon divergence, fucked up the timeline a bit

word count; 3k

desc; you and your boys finally get it together.

read on ao3 / series masterlist

You're dozing, head resting on Eddie's hospital bed. Steve's on the other side, chin propped up by his hand, sleeping himself. You two have kept vigil since Eddie came out of surgery, patched up but still unconscious. The attendants had tried to force the two of you to leave but you'd made such a fuss that they'd just left you alone. It was easier to do that than deal with screaming visitors in the middle of the night.

You and Steve had waited impatiently, restless and too nervous to speak, for Eddie to wake up. But he didn't and the adrenaline faded and you two were left in exhaustion. You both fought it, but fell asleep just the same. Doesn't mean it's a restful sleep though.

Which is why you become instantly aware of a hand softly touching your head. You open your eyes and turn your head over, expecting it to be Steve checking up on you. But when you see Eddie, awake and staring at you, you bolt upright.

"Eddie!" You gasp out, loud enough to startle Steve. He jerks in confusion but then notices Eddie too. He clutches Eddie's hand, choking out, "Oh, thank god."

The more you're looking at Eddie, the more you're realizing his expression is one of shock: wide eyes, open mouth, frozen stance. You immediately flash back to the last time you were together and cringe. You shoot up from your chair and start walking quickly to the door. "I'm sorry," you say thickly. "I shouldn't be here."

But then Eddie calls out with a hoarse voice, "Wait," and you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you spot Steve first. He has a kind smile and nods encouragingly. Slowly moving your attention to Eddie, you find he's now looking at you with more with awe than shock, mouth turned up at the corners. "Hi, princess," he breathes, and you let out a sob, rushing towards him and hugging him tightly. Eddie chuckles. "Careful," he warns, but it's a tease, and he's holding you back just as hard.

You pull back, tears in your eyes. Eddie cups your cheek in his hand, giving you the most loving eyes. "I thought you hated me," you admit with a sniff.

"I could never hate you," he replies gently, making your heart skip a beat. "I'm sorry for what I did. I'm so sorry, angel." The tears start to fall then, impossible to stop. Steve takes your free hand while Eddie makes a small noise of distress. "I never meant to hurt you. I misunderstood and reacted poorly."

"What did you think?" You ask, wary but curious.

He sighs. "I thought you were talking about me wanting Steve, not you. And it was a reflex to push you away. I...I was scared."

You squeeze his hand. "I get that." Your voice is small and gentle, and Eddie looks up in surprise. "It's scary. I understand. I would've understood then too." Your face saddens. "I'm sorry I cut you—both of you," you look at Steve, "out. I thought it would make me feel better, but it just made it all worse somehow. I missed you two so much."

"We missed you too, beautiful," Steve says. He gets up from his chair and perches on the bed too, and you slide over so he has more space. He gives you a kiss on the temple.

"So much," Eddie adds. "It's not the same without you, angel."

To distract from your blush, you continue, "And I'm the one who's always saying communication is key. Maybe listen to your own advice, dummy."

"Hey," Eddie chides. "You can't talk about our girl like that."

Steve nods in agreement. "We won't let you."

You duck your head in embarrassment, face growing even redder. You clear your throat and ask as a subject change, "So, you gonna tell me what that portal thing was about?"

Steve and Eddie look at each other and then shake their heads. You huff in some outrage. Before you can speak again, Steve says, "How about you tell us how you knew where to find us."

You shrug. "It wasn't so much knowing where to find you as it was the only place I could think of. Good thing too. They were ready to let you die," you accuse, pointing at Eddie.

Steve sighs. "It wasn't personal," he offers, but it's a weak excuse. You show this by rolling your eyes.

"Maybe it should've been. Then they would've cared more about keeping him alive."

"Aw, look at you going all guard dog for me." Eddie fake-swoons, breaking to laugh when you pinch his arm. Once he's batted away your hand, he continues cheekily, "You got a crush on me or something?"

It's about time. "Yeah, I do," you reply fondly. "In fact, I have a huge crush on both of you. You think I got a chance?"

"I'd say there's high hopes," Steve whispers as he leans forward to kiss you. You smile into it, letting go of his hand to press yours to his neck. It's sweet and chaste and as amazing as the first one. The smile he gives you when you part is beaming.

“I promise I won’t walk away again,” you murmur, “biggest regret of my life.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve coos. “Don’t regret that. I don’t.”

“What? Why not?”

He takes your hand. “I needed that rejection, to get here. It made me realize who I was becoming, and I didn’t like what I saw. If you hadn’t walked away, I wouldn’t have known to stop it. It made me work harder to be a better person, a better man. You made me better.”

“I think that was you,” you reply, all gooey inside.

Eddie pulls your attention to him as he tugs you closer to him. Then he's kissing you too, hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you closer. It's even better than the first one, since he doesn't dare let go now. His dazed expression makes you giggle when you separate.

“And I’m not letting you go again,” he says.

You smile softly. “I won’t let you.” Eddie chuckles.

You try to regain your breath, but it's taken away again as Steve and Eddie then lean towards each other and kiss. It's beautiful, the one thing that could make this whole situation perfect. You must make some kind of noise because the boys laugh and break apart to give you adoring gazes. "Oh!" You exclaim happily. "When did that happen?"

There's a pink tinge to Eddie's cheeks when he answers, "After the wedding. He got mad I made you cut off contact with us both and I confessed in the heat of it. Obviously it worked out."

"I'm so glad," you emphasize. "This is much better than you two being of jealous of each other."

"Oh, we're still jealous of each other," Eddie quips.

"Just not when it comes to you," Steve clarifies.

"Well, that's okay. Love a healthy sense of competition." Your boys laugh in response.

Your boys...that feels really damn good.

"Okay," you say, going serious. "How are you feeling? Both of you. Eddie, are you in pain? Steve, did you get a chance to be seen for your injury?"

Eddie looks at Steve quickly. "I forgot about that," he says worriedly. "Is it okay?"

Steve smiles. "It's fine. I got it checked out after you went in for surgery and everyone made it to the hospital."

You vaguely remember. "Right...Robin had to comfort me for a bit."

Now Eddie's staring at you. "Comfort?" He asks wildly.

You give him a look. "Did you forget you almost died?"

"Oh, right," he replies sheepishly. "Well, I feel fine. Ish. My side kinda hurts and my throat is burning."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" You ask, sounding exasperated with concern. "Lemme get the nurse."

But Eddie grabs your moving hand and holds it instead. "No, no," he reassures. "I'll be alright. Just let me sleep with my two favorite people in the world." You melt, sharing a shy look with Steve. Eddie grins, knowing he's made you two coy. "I just need some water and I'll be right as rain.”

Before you can, Steve jumps up and fills a cup from a pitcher. He brings it back and Eddie guzzles it down. "Ugh, so good," he moans, making you snicker. "Okay, smush in."

He carefully turns onto his good side so you and Steve can bracket him. Steve lays behind him, making sure to keep his arm on Eddie's waist and not his stomach, and you in front, keeping some breathing space between your bodies so you don't crush him accidentally. But he still wraps an arm around you tightly, and you interlock your hands. You can feel Steve's hand lightly clutching your hip and you move your other hand down to grab it too.

"We're like a pretzel in here," Eddie mumbles, and you and Steve laugh quietly.

"We'll figure it out." Steve ends his sentence with a yawn, making you and Eddie yawn as well. "Got all the time in the world."

You squeeze their hands in joy and they squeeze back. And that's how you fall asleep, in complete bliss.

;

It's also how the rest of the group finds you in the morning, when visiting hours begin. They try to stay quiet, but it's the loud gasp Robin lets out when she sees you that ultimately wakes you up. You sit up in a jerk, heart going a million miles an hour, only remembering Eddie unconscious and wounded, until last night comes flooding back. You check to make sure it was real, and find both Steve and Eddie blinking sleepily behind you. As you calm your breathing, you face the rest of the room.

And the crowd of people standing in it—Robin, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Nancy, and Erica, plus Vickie and a nurse are all staring at the three of you. You smile awkwardly, blushing as you start to slide off the bed. Hands tighten around you briefly, but you pat them reassuringly and they eventually let go, and you can drop into the chair you'd been occupying last night before Eddie had woken.

"Hi," you squeak out, which draws Steve and Eddie's attention to something other than you. Steve also sits up and hastily retreats to his vacated chair. He sighs and gives them a half-wave and an uncomfortable grin. Eddie just stares at the visitors impassively.

"Now, I know you know the rules," the nurse says first, taking charge and bustling over to the bed, "but that was just too sweet. I won't tell, this time. But you can't do it again." At her stern look, all three of you nod quickly.

She does her examination, takes vitals, asks Eddie how he's doing. He answers honestly that he's still in pain but with an ease that relaxes both you and Steve. The nurse promises more morphine soon and says she'll be back with some breakfast. She eyes everyone else but exits the room and closes the door behind her.

"Finally!" Robin bursts out, making you laugh unexpectedly. "I thought we'd never get here!"

"You knew?" Dustin asks incredulously. Possibly a little betrayed?

"It wasn't hard to figure out," Nancy replies instead. "Have you seen how they act around each other?"

Robin rushes to add, "But they didn't tell me. Well, I knew Steve liked them both, but that was like, top secret platonic soulmate information." Steve smiles at her wink.

Then they're all moving, going up to Steve and Eddie to see how they're doing. Dustin gives them both a hug but scolds them for not telling him about the relationship. Steve looks at him like he's gone crazy, while Eddie has a fond smile. Nancy and Robin are all over Steve as well, making sure he's okay with his wound and that he got it checked out. He reassures them like he's exasperated, but you can see the happiness beneath it all that they care about him so much. Max and Lucas also give Steve a hug, but ultimately escape the room first, probably off to do cute kid-couple things.

As you watch them all interact with a soft feeling in your chest, Vickie tentatively stands beside you. At some point, you look at her with a small smile. She looks back at you and, shockingly, there are tears running down her face.

"I'm so sorry,” she whispers, like she can’t make herself speak louder. “For what I said at the wedding. And pressuring you into doing something. That was wrong of me.”

"It's okay," you reply, standing to hug her. She holds back tight. "I know you were trying to help.”

She hiccups. “I’m glad y’all worked it out. I didn’t even know this was an option.”

“I hardly did until last night.”

She leans back to look at your seriously. “I’m really happy for you. You deserve it.”

“Thank you.” You feel like you’re about to cry now too. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” A line of snot runs out of her nose and you grab a tissue from the box on Eddie's tray table, handing it to her. She takes it gratefully and cleans her face. “Not sure how Hailey’s gonna take the news though. She’s been half in love with Steve forever.”

You laugh a little. “I don’t blame her.”

“She’s gonna be happy for you. Her and Jesse both.” Vickie is gazing at you with shining eyes. You smile and give her another hug. When you part and turn back to the rest of the group, they're all still talking over each other—all except for Eddie, who's watching you and Vickie with a smile on his lips and fondness in his eyes. You grab his hand and hold on tight, and he squeezes back.

Dustin comes barreling around the bed and throws his arms around you. You're startled, but hug him back, looking at Steve and Eddie in confusion. They both shrug, unsure what it's for, until Dustin mutters, "Thank you for saving him."

You melt, practically in his arms. You hold him more firmly and whisper back, "Thank you for taking care of him in there."

"But I failed," he replies, almost imperceptibly, miserably.

You shake your head against him. "No, you kept him alive. You brought him back to me."

"Well," Dustin reasons, "you brought him back to me too."

You don't reply, just squeeze him and then let go. He's not crying but it's a close thing. You ruffle his hair and he laughs a little. "Steve and Eddie do that all the time." It's almost a complaint, but you can hear the pride underneath.

"It's not our fault you have such good hair for ruffling," Eddie retorts playfully, and Dustin rolls his eyes.

"He's right," you add and ruffle his hair again. He escapes from your grasp and runs to the door, giving you all one last smile before he ducks out.

"Guess we'll leave you to it then," Nancy says, and gives Steve one last hug before also leaving the room. Robin and Vickie follow her, after giving Steve and you another hug, respectively. They stick a little too close to each other, and you make eye contact with Steve, asking the silent question. He shrugs but wiggles his eyebrows and you snort softly.

"Hey," Eddie whines. "No secret conversations without me."

"Well," you say conspiratorially, perching on his hospital bed, making him lean forward hungrily. "I happen to know for a fact that Vickie has a crush on Robin."

"And I," Steve continues, sitting back in his chair and propping his feet on the bed, "know that Robin likes Vickie too."

Eddie hums excitedly. "Juicy."

"And it seems like they're close to revealing it," you add. "If their behavior is anything to go by."

"I think maybe this last round in the Upside Down has given Robin some perspective," Steve muses.

You shoot him a look. "Will you ever tell me more about it?"

"Of course, angel," Eddie answers. Steve glares at him but Eddie just glares back. "She deserves to know," he argues to Steve. "She did save my life."

Steve crosses his arms. "I was also there," he mutters.

You giggle. "Eddie knows that, don't you, baby?"

Eddie seems taken aback by the pet name but still nods. "You also saved my life, pretty boy. I won't forget that." Steve's expressions softens. "But she still should learn about it. In case it ever comes back."

Steve sighs, looking like the weight of the world is back on his shoulders. "He's right. You should know, beautiful."

But you want to remove that look from his face. "Not right now, yeah? Let's just...enjoy each other."

That lightens Steve up, and makes Eddie smile wickedly. "I would be into that."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," you scold Eddie, who pretends to be sheepish. "You've gotta heal. Like Steve said, we've got time to get there."

"Can't say mine didn't go there too," Steve admits and Eddie chuckles. You shake your head fondly. "But she's right."

"I could get used to King Steve saying that we're right all the time," Eddie teases, making you bark out a laugh.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Can we please not use that name? I'm not that guy anymore. I'm a one-man and one-woman guy now." Both you and Eddie laugh, and eventually Steve joins in. "Okay, I guess that doesn't really work in a sentence. But I'm set now."

"Me too," Eddie proclaims happily.

"Me three," you finish with a beaming grin. Your boys match it. "So what happened down there exactly?"

Then you settle back and get comfortable as Eddie launches into a very detailed and entertaining story of how he got roped into helping defeat the Upside Down. You listen carefully, interested in knowing absolutely everything, while Steve watches you two dreamily, head resting on his hand. His other hand is resting on Eddie's thigh—he's using both hands to regale you—and one of yours is brushing a thumb on his ankle. All is right with the world.

chapter eleven - 18+

#steddie x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #mine

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deepspacedukat · 2 years

Text

From Silence - Part 3

Based on this post with 100000% credit to @toebeans-mcgee for the premise, and written with her permission. For those keeping count, I made an outline and it turns out that this fic will be 5 chapters plus an epilogue.

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 4 here. Part 5 here. Epilogue here.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Senator Letant (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: I’m enjoying writing this way too much.]

Warnings: Soft!Letant, outwardly-suave-but-actually-a-mess!Letant, Letant is prickly but he actually cares, mentions of trauma/severe injury leading to muteness, adapting to a severe injury, hurt/comfort, injury/recovery process, imprisonment, telepathy, touch telepathy.

~*~

Nearly a week passed, and Letant finally felt significantly less bored. Now that he was allowed to interact with the other prisoners, he’d been able to start formulating a plan for escape. There were several Romulan officers who had been scouting the perimeter and keeping an eye on the number of guards. They all acknowledged his authority immediately - a fact which brought him immense satisfaction when he mulled it over later in the barracks. Even here in the domain of his enemies, he was still a force with which to be reckoned.

Though everything seemed to be looking up on that front, one matter that should have been entirely trivial troubled him. His pretty little cellmate was having difficulties. Letant had been keeping ever-vigilant tabs on her while they roamed, purely because of the dangers of their situation, of course. He hadn’t stayed up all night when she first arrived only to allow some disreputable Klingon or overzealous Jem’Hadar guard to get their hands on her. At least, that was how he justified his actions to himself. Thus far, she’d managed to befriend a Starfleet officer, a Klingon, and two young Romulans with whom he was now acquainted. Both of the Romulans had agreed readily, albeit with confusion, when he’d ordered them to watch out for her as well if he wasn’t around or if something were to happen to him.

Despite her lack of vocal capability, she had somehow managed to communicate basic ideas with her new companions. Clever little thing. She had, however, hit a snag. Apparently, there was only so much that she could convey via gestures. Each night, she returned to the barracks increasingly frustrated and tense.

She’d even attempted to hide evidence of her tears from him. The first time it had happened, he had thought nothing of it. He’d put it down to a mood swing or the atmosphere of the prison getting to her. The second time, however, he feared that she’d been injured without him noticing. So determined was she to hide her face that Letant had murmured her name as gently as he could muster - the same way that he would if he’d been trying to coax an injured child into allowing him to assess the severity of a wound. There must have been something in his voice that surprised her, because her bloodshot, puffy eyes had opened wide with wonder when she turned to him. After a slight pause, definitely not because he’d felt caught in her gaze, he’d seen the dampness on her cheeks that she’d been trying so desperately to hide.

When he brushed the tears from her face, Letant had allowed himself the small liberty of allowing his mind to touch hers just long enough to assess her feelings. Instead of pain as he’d expected to find, shame and frustration rushed to meet him. That was puzzling. Frustration he could understand, but shame? She had done nothing to warrant such a critical emotion. Without a second thought, he’d taken a seat beside her on her cot and coaxed her into leaning against him as his arm wound around her shoulders. His other hand lay over the top of one of hers.

“Rest, Lieutenant. Sleep will make you feel better.” Only when she was asleep against him did he realize that he was still holding her hand. He didn’t let go until the next morning.

Today, however, he saw the group of prisoners that she’d befriended struggling once again to communicate with her. Eventually, she stopped trying and fell still as the rest of them continued chatting. His heart ached in soundless sympathy for her situation. He wished he could do something to make things easier for her.

As he watched her trudge away from the others seemingly unnoticed, Letant realized that maybe he could. It would be for his own sake, of course. Her behavior was becoming tiresome. Lifting her mood would be for his own benefit. Obviously.

I felt largely left out of the conversation. The people I’d met were kind to try and include me, but I couldn’t really contribute in any meaningful sort of way. Maybe if I’d known some sort of universal sign language I could’ve been useful, but as it was, I could barely make my most basic thoughts known. Sneaking away while my new friends’ attention was diverted, I slipped into a quiet, shadowed alcove and let myself slide to the ground with my back against the wall. Letting out a silent sigh, I closed my eyes and let my head droop backward until the cold stone supported its weight.

Was this what I was doomed to be reduced to? The sound of inhales and exhales? I could help with their escape plan. I already had the answers to at least two of their technological musings about the barrier surrounding the compound. But, damn it all, I couldn’t communicate any of my knowledge with them.

A few moments passed before I felt a gentle pressure on my knee. My eyes snapped open and met the concerned gaze of the Senator I was rooming with. His gaze was just as soft as it had been when he’d caught me crying and convinced me to rest with him.

He must have thought that I was just as pathetic as all Romulans believed Humans to be. Hell, he was probably thinking it now.

“Are you alright?” I nodded my head and he held out his hand. What could I do but take it? As soon as my skin met his, his mental voice spoke up. “What happened?”

“Nothing, it’s just...I have all the words I need to answer questions and offer solutions, but I can’t do anything about it. Gestures can only take me so far. I hate it! I may not have been incredibly vocal before, but at least I could speak up when I had something valuable to contribute. Now, though...Now, I’m just a burden.” I didn’t really expect him to listen to me, but when I finished, he tilted his head slightly. He didn’t exactly seem surprised.

“I believe I can help you. Would you come with me?” He asked offering me his other hand. I took it curiously and he stood, pulling me to my feet along with him. Tucking my hand into the crook of his elbow, he covered my fingers with his own. As proud as you please, Letant began parading along the perimeter with me on his arm. What an odd sight we must make! “How would you like a translator, Lieutenant?”

Trying to keep my expression neutral, I couldn’t help but wonder what he was getting at.

“Such a luxury would make things substantially easier, but...I doubt I’ll find one in a Dominion prison.”

“I wouldn’t have asked such a question if I didn’t have a way of fulfilling your desire. Therefore, I humbly offer you my own services as your translator.” When I stopped in my tracks, Senator Letant stopped as well and turned to look at me. “You seem surprised.”

“I am. I can see no reason for you to want to help me. Why would a Romulan Senator lower himself to translating for a mute Federation officer - a nobody? I’d be honored to accept your offer, but I’d like to know your motives first.” After a moment’s pause, he reached out and skimmed the backs of his knuckles down the scar on my throat. Was that sympathy or pity? The former was vastly preferable to the latter.

“An understandable question. It’s unprecedented for members of my species to share their thoughts as intimately as this with outsiders.” His statement didn’t come as a surprise, but it did serve to raise more questions. “I will make an exception in this case.”

“But why? Wouldn’t helping someone who’s been so severely damaged be, at the least, inconvenient to you?”

“Certainly, but I’m willing to be tolerant in regards to this particular issue,” he said. “Consider it a matter of personal curiosity.”

“‘Personal curiosity’? That doesn’t sound very Romulan to me.”

Letant’s shoulders tensed and he stood slightly straighter.

“Then, perhaps I’m tired of seeing you return to our barracks looking so forlorn. Choose whatever reason best mollifies your pride or your nerves, whichever requires more coddling. Just, please...let me help you.” If I didn’t know better, I’d have said that Letant appeared close to begging now. If he heard my mental observation he didn’t show it.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded my head in acceptance. A rather smug smile stretched his lips as we resumed our walk around the compound.

“Won’t you be embarrassed to be associated with me? I don’t think you’ve come within a yard of me during our free time since the Jem’Hadar allowed us to roam.”

“You’ve given me no reason to be ashamed of my association with you thus far,” he mused, “but I warn you that if you do give me a reason to, I won’t hesitate to revoke my services.”

“Fair enough, Senator Grumpy.” Letant looked positively scandalized when his eyes met mine, but all I gave him was a small, teasing smile. Despite my expression, I feared for a moment that I may have crossed a line.

“Aren’t you a feisty little thing?” He asked as the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement and a grin showed off the lines on either side of his mouth. “It’s almost time for lights out, but in the morning I’ll help you convey your thoughts as well as introduce you to those I’ve befriended here. I expect introductions to those you’ve met, as well.”

I agreed, and the Senator walked me back to our barracks. A few yards from the cell door, however, we saw two Jem’Hadar soldiers coming out. One caught sight of us and strode over.

“You two have a new cellmate. Wouldn’t it be a shame if he snapped your necks in your sleep? Lights out in five minutes.” With that oh-so-pleasant sentiment, the two of them walked away. Too bad our new cellmate hadn’t snapped their necks and saved us the trouble.

I hadn’t realized Letant would hear my rather dark thoughts until I found him looking at me with amazement and at least a hint of pride in his expression.

“Well, well...You do have a bite after all. What a pleasant surprise,” he thought at me as we traversed the last few feet to our barracks. As heat suffused my cheeks, we both looked inside our cell to see a Breen lying in one of the cots. “Perhaps it would be wise for us to share from now on, Lieutenant? Assuming you can stand being that close to a Romulan for an extended period, of course.”

"Oh, please, you’re not that bad, you dramatic man,” I thought gesturing for him to lie down first, but he held up a hand.

“It might be wiser for you to take the position nearest the wall. I can protect you better that way.” An argument wouldn’t have been worth the effort, so I simply did as he said, turning on my side so he would have enough room. The cot creaked as the Senator lay behind me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when one of his hands slid down my arm so he could grasp my hand. “Easy now. I’m not going to hurt you, e’lev.”

Just before I fell asleep, I couldn’t help but wonder why he would want to protect me. Maybe it had something to do with those uncharacteristic moments of gentleness that he’d shown me. Or maybe I was just reading too much into his actions.

#deepspacedukat fic #Senator Letant #Senator Letant x Reader #Letant

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teaspoonofdragons · 2 years

Text

Trust

Summary: Sig can't bring himself to trust Schezo around his left arm. It's an understandable fear, and one that Schezo holds no particular contempt over. It doesn't hinder them any. He's accommodating, if anything- he'll move to Sig's right by habit now.

But when Sig falls asleep in Schezo's home he doesn't have any choice in the matter, and neither does Schezo.

(Sequel to Just as Bad (Probably Worse) and Smoothies as a Bartering Technique. This fic makes references to both)

Characters: Schezo Wegey, Sig

Warnings: Severe paranoia, vomiting, violent thoughts, overstimulation, self-harm, self-hatred, Schezo, and I promise there’s a happy ending to this

Word count: 5524

Sig is asleep.

Sig is asleep in Schezo's cave, as it happens.

He was looking for a quiet place to do his homework. He couldn't do it at home, because he'd get distracted by bugs, and he couldn't do it in the woods, because he'd get distracted by bugs, he can't do it at the library because if Klug happened to be there too it would inevitably not be quiet anymore, and he couldn't do it at someone's house because he would get distracted. Again.

But Schezo's cave is less likely to have bugs than Sig's house and the surrounding forest, and Schezo is less likely to distract him due to sheer factor of a refusal to talk. As well as that Sig had asked him to keep him on track, and given Schezo himself has an evening of nothing ahead of him, he'd agreed, if through complaints that he "wasn't a babysitter," or something of the like.

Normally it wouldn't matter so much but his grades are, and have been for a while now, slipping. It's not that he's stupid, he doesn't necessarily need tutoring, he just has... Difficulty focusing. Which occasionally results in him looking stupid. Like when he forgot what a sword was. Or the word "ecstatic."

Schezo, however, was very good at asking him if he was thinking about what he was supposed to be thinking of. He'd caught Sig daydreaming about a variety of insects multiple times so far and Sig had only two questions remaining because of his vigilance.

Unfortunately Schezo was not told what to do in the circumstance that Sig fell asleep.

He could just wake him up but he's unsure of if that's the right decision. Sig always seems tired but maybe that's for a reason. Who's he to say that the boy didn't need it?

That said, what concerns Schezo more is the fact that Sig was so willing to fall asleep around him in the first place. Maybe he truly was exhausted. He can't think of any other reason someone would pass out with him in the room. He certainly wouldn't.

Granted, there's very few people he would sleep with. Sleep in the same room as. Ugh. Schezo's a bit of a special case in that area. He just doesn't trust anyone not to try to hurt him. Hell, even if he tried to sleep around someone as laid-back and very un-murderous as Sig, he probably wouldn't be able to. The thought of "what if he's still mad about his arm, what if he's been pretending to be friendly to get close to me so he could get revenge for me tormenting him, what if he hates me," runs through his head, and he lets it run until it tires itself out. He can't bring himself to believe Sig wouldn't take the chance to kill him if he just had the perfect, un-fuck-up-able moment to do so.

He could maybe believe it of Arle, as she's had the opportunity multiple times and never taken it. Rulue, as well. But Sig hasn't had that. If Schezo can, he'll keep it that way.

The dark mage taps his finger nails against the wood of his table. He's unsure of what to do, here. If only there were an easier decision to make.

His gaze naturally falls to Sig's arm, and he quickly tears it away. No, no that's not the kind of easy decision he's looking for.

Schezo tries to keep his eyes anywhere else, but with someone asleep in his home there's not much to do. He can't bake anything, that would assuredly wake Sig up. He could maybe go play his ukulele but... No, what if Sig woke up on his own in the middle of that? Then he'd hear.

Schezo laments not having any hobbies. There's got to be something he can do.

Right. Something. Something that would relieve him of this crushing weight on his shoulders. The feeling of being watched following everywhere, the loud, loud, too noisy thoughts running him ragged, of unfulfilled want, of desire.

Something that would bring him relief. Euphoria, even.

Schezo didn't realize he'd stood up at some point but he had. He stands next to Sig, his eyes trailing along the vibrant crimson that glows faintly in the dim of his cave, contrasting harshly with the blue of the crystals grown from the walls.

It's so tempting. An easy decision. Schezo's white-knuckling his sword, lifting it enough that he can perfectly envision it cutting through the flesh. He can feel it's warmth, when Sig lets it get too close, and more than that he can feel the raw energy it produces by simply existing. It's more magic than some people would ever see in their entire lives, and Sig doesn't even know how to use it.

It'd be better in his hands. He could figure it out. He would use it.

There's a moment of quiet where Schezo has his sword pointed dangerously close to Sig's arm. It visibly shakes, and he becomes aware of his own breathing. Heavy, as if he'd just done hard labor. Trembling, as if he was scared. Why would he be scared? He's right. He's right.

Sig makes a soft, tired sound. It breaks Schezo out of his reverie for a moment long enough to watch his fingers twitch and his head turn to rest his cheek against the cool wood surface. He sighs, then stills, mumbling something incoherent that trails off, never to be finished.

Schezo flexes his fingers around his sword's hilt and hisses through his teeth. It takes a few seconds, but he slowly lowers his weapon.

He can't do it. Not tonight.

He feels his brows furrow. Not tonight. As if he'd hoped to do it any other. Like he could ever consider the thought of going through with it. Like he isn't caught in between being a bad person and wanting to have an experience others seem to exhibit so easily.

He feels his heart in his throat and the bile in his stomach tries to join it. As quietly as he can manage, Schezo turns around and starts calmly walking out of the cave. Once his boots have touched softer dirt that won't betray his footsteps he books it. He can't tell the thud of the ground from the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears.

He doesn't know how far he gets but he feels the need to stop too soon. He falls to his knees, skidding across the dirt, then heaves everything in his stomach back into the Earth. Schezo hovers over the spot, staring unseeingly at the ground, before vomiting up some more acid his body had apparently decided he'd missed.

He blinks at the sick, and grimaces. Standing shakily to his feet, he braces himself against a tree, desperate for something to steady him. The taste lingers, and he slides his sleeve up to bite into his arm, hoping to at least minimize the amount he has to deal with.

He feels something warm drip into his mouth and knows he'll get what he wants.

He closes his eyes. There's too much noise around him, in this forest with nothing in it. To anyone else it's silent but to him, in this moment, the leaves in the wind are deafening and his breathing grates on his own ears and he can feel them staring at him. Judgement bores holes into the back of his head, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He can hear its whispers but its whispers are more noise and it may as well be yelling at him.

Too cowardly to take what could be yours, it hisses into his ears, yet too selfish to tell him to leave. What decision will you make, in the end? Will you let this opportunity slip past you like you have before, regret soon to follow like a dog at your heels? Or will you ruin what little chance you have at normalcy, as well as the life of another?

His teeth dig further into his arm.

He has decided to put aside your transgression against him, it reminds him, Either way you will be taking advantage of it. You will be taking advantage of him.

Schezo finally lets his arm drop from his mouth. It's right. He's right. He knows that, that the better thing would be to distance himself from Sig and prevent either outcome. To stop him from trying to be his friend and giving him further opportunity to hurt him.

Sig's never done anything to deserve him. Sig's oblivious and unsociable and yet he has found good friends in so many people. He can be rude, maybe crass, but he's sweet and cares about those he holds close. He's so careful, handling those living things he's so attached to, gentle in spite of his arm.

He's soft and kind and he's offered a portion of it to Schezo and Schezo wants to ruin it.

He sits down, still leaning against the tree. He covers his ears to muffle the cacophony that's trying to pull him apart. It won't stop Judgement for it's attached itself to him, but maybe if he's rid of everything else it will leave him alone. He squeezes his eyes shut, all the visuals surrounding him only managing to make things louder.

He sits like that, in the middle of the woods, for far longer than he'd intended. Drowning out his senses, he loses track of time, the only thing keeping him from being rid of all sense of existence being the dull sting left over from his teeth in his arm and the taste of copper and bile refusing to leave his tongue. He tries to stand and regrets it immediately, stumbling back onto his ass when he opens his eyes and feels the world twist and spin on it's side. He takes a moment to be grateful that he's the only one here.

The disgusting, visceral remnants of his being sick make themselves home in this chest and throat. He's going to need to find something to eat, if he can get anything down. His stomach is as good as empty now.

But he needs to get back to his cave. If Sig wakes up to Schezo no longer being there he's unsure of what he'll do. There's every chance he won't care, but if he decides to go looking...

Schezo glances at the sky. It's getting dark, long past the oranges and reds of sunset and into the purple of twilight. It wouldn't be safe for Sig to go out on his own. Schezo knows Primp isn't nearly as dangerous as... As..... As wherever home used to be, before it became "here," but that doesn't make it safe. Some new villain or general antagonist shows up every month or so, it seems, and even without that, there's still plenty that could happen. An unsuspected storm, a tree falling on top of him, tripping over a root and cracking his skull open on a poorly positioned rock and being unable to get help before it's too late due to being in the woods.

A bit much? Maybe, but Schezo's not in the right state of being to acknowledge it. He stands once more, carefully this time. He waits before continuing to move, staring resolutely at the ground to be sure it won't betray him a second time. When he's positive it's ceased it's churning and it isn't going to assault him again, he starts back to his abode, much slower than he'd left it. He feels drunk, the way his movement is hindered by his abrupt breakdown.

If anyone did want him dead, now would be the best time to strike. That thought cements itself quickly and it causes him to stumble again with how quickly he turns to look behind him. He can still feel it's eyes upon him, and it doesn't help. He probably looks like a moron, turning to face every direction with his hand on his sword, eyes wild and checking every darkened corner for anything that could want to take advantage of his weakened state.

There's few in Primp who would. In fact, rather a majority of them would probably try to help, all of them hearts too big, or maybe just capable of more moral withstanding than him. The chances of an attack are low.

But never none.

What if, what if, what if.

He stops at the entrance of his cave. He carefully surveys the surrounding area to double, triple check that there's absolutely nothing around to threaten his safety. When he confirms that there's not even anything alive nearby he finally walks back in, careful to keep his steps light in case Sig is still asleep.

He steps into his kitchen- or, less steps into it and more steps into the area he's designated as "the kitchen,"- in order to check, and sighs when he sees Sig's slouched figure still laying on the table, although he looks dangerously close to slipping out of the chair. Schezo pushes it forward a little, just to make sure.

He stares at Sig, not quite registering how weird that would be out of context. At the very least, it seems his episode of violence has left him, even if only to be replaced by an episode of soul rending fear. He doesn't feel the vicious urge to tear that arm out of it's socket, though, if he keeps up with that language maybe he will.

He turns around. Maybe he'll just sit in his treasure chest for a little while. He won't be able to sleep in it, not with Sig around, but he can at least be somewhere else.

"Schezo?"

Ah, fuck.

Schezo looks over his shoulder to see Sig blink blearily, looking around for a moment before focusing on him.

"Oh," he says, passively, "there you are."

"Hello, Sig," Schezo responds, focusing very hard on sounding natural. "How was your nap?"

Sig blinks a few more times in quick succession, then looks down at his now crumpled homework. "I don't remember falling asleep."

"Well, you did," Schezo snarks, "and it was a hassle to deal with. You didn't tell me what to do under such circumstances."

Sig shrugs. "Didn't think about it. Sorry."

Schezo huffs, but says nothing more.

Sig looks at his homework again, his expression nothing short of dismal. He shouldn't have fallen asleep. Now the words seem to swim around his head. He can't understand the questions. He hears Schezo leave and doesn't bother looking up to see what he's doing, too busy being agitated over these last two questions.

He makes out one of them enough to half-ass its answer. He doesn't know if it'll be enough but Ms. Accord is always saying "anything is better than nothing," so he's putting down anything. He just hopes it's coherent.

He rereads the last one 4 times and feels a headache coming on when something is dropped on top of his paper. Before he can make it out he feels a hand place itself between his shoulders and push him so that his head lands upon the object.

Ah. Pillow.

"Go back to sleep," Schezo whispers, his tone subdued and not quite all there.

"I've just got one more question," Sig argues, though rather unenthusiastically.

"Then you can finish it in the morning."

Schezo throws a couple of blankets over Sig and he can already feel his consciousness slipping.

"I should... Probably get home...." He mumbles into the pillow.

"It's dark out. You can stay the night here."

"My parents-"

"Would most certainly prefer it if you came back a day late but alive and unharmed rather than you try to get home and get yourself injured," Schezo interrupts, sitting down across from Sig.

Sig says something that sounds vaguely like "I can see in the dark."

"You are also tired and prone to spacing out as it is," Schezo points out. He then says, a little quieter, "besides, you being able to see is not the only thing I am worried about."

Sig looks up at him, his usual half-lidded expression somehow conveying more weariness than usual.

"Humor me?" Schezo asks, and, too tired to argue over it any further, Sig lets his eyes fall shut.

Schezo watches him, and stands again when he's sure he's fallen back into sleep. He shifts one of the blankets to fully cover Sig's arm, so he doesn't have to see it, if nothing else, hoping object permanence might leave him. He freezes when he feels Sig's fingers close around his own, but the boy's grip is loose and he makes no objection when Schezo slowly pulls away aside from a soft "mmf."

Schezo pulls his sword out and places it so it's pointed edge is resting against the floor of the cave, like someone standing guard. Maybe Sig is unaware of it but by allowing himself to fall asleep around Schezo he is entrusting him with his life.

Schezo does not have trust in very many people. Consequently, very few people have trust in him. But that means that every bit of it matters to him, no matter how much of it, purposeful or accidental.

Schezo is going to make sure that this trust Sig has let fall into his lap does not go unbroken. He's not going to let anything hurt him. He's not going to let anything ruin this for him.

He can feel his own fatigue try to catch up to him, but he stands rigid and resolute. Nothing is going to hurt Sig tonight. Nothing is going to ruin this. Not even himself.

His grip on his sword tightens.

Especially not himself.

Schezo does not trust Sig enough to sleep in the same room as him. What Sig doesn't know can't bother him; he's unaware of this fact and, therefore, can't be upset by it. He noticed, of course, that Schezo was awake before him that morning he fell asleep in his home. That he was hovering over Sig, stiff and glaring in the direction of the cave's entrance like he was convinced something would crawl through it at any minute. Sig noticed that he looked like shit, and the thought crossed his mind that maybe Schezo didn't sleep at all. But he couldn't possibly have known that it was because of him. No normal person could ever reach the conclusion that the reason Schezo wasn't sleeping was because they were.

Sig does not trust Schezo around his left arm. Rarely does he let it face Schezo and, on occasion, he finds himself unconsciously grabbing it with his other hand, pulling it closer to his body. If Sig ever touches him, or needs to hand him something, if he only needs to use one hand it's always with his right. Schezo doesn't blame him. He knows why.

Schezo does not trust Sig to touch him often. This is a fact that Sig knows, now, though it took him a while to realize. Sig wasn't a very touchy person himself, up until he got friends, and then it suddenly became such a casual part of his life. Amitie was always touchy with all of her friends, holding hands with everyone and surprise hugging them, wrapping an arm around their shoulders while they walked- the last one was something Raffina was prone to as well, though the rest of her habits consisted mostly of more aggressive forms of contact, like punching people on the shoulder, or elbowing them playfully, though Klug was rather unappreciative of these forms of affection.

Klug himself was certainly the least physically affectionate of them, but even he'd occasionally put a hand on Sig's shoulder, or sit close enough that their arms were touching and be largely fine with it in the long run.

Sig has noticed, over time, that Schezo seems a little awkward when he mimics these forms of contact with him. If he sits too close to him Schezo is quick to remedy it. A hand on his shoulder is met with him tensing under it. Sig had, once, and only once, attempted to hold Schezo's hand. Schezo tolerated it for a little while, but it was not reciprocated, and when Sig let go Schezo clenched his fist a few times.

Sig had ended up asking him, to avoid any miscommunications, if he didn't like being touched.

"It's fine," he'd said, "I can deal with it if I must." When all he got from Sig in return was a stare and an eyebrow raise, he'd sighed and admitted, "No, I don't like it."

And that was that. Sig refrained from grabbing Schezo's hand again, and made a more conscious effort to keep his hand to himself. It made no difference to Sig. If he felt the need to seek out someone's attention, he could ask it of nearly any of his other friends. There was no need to torment Schezo over it.

Sig remembers asking Arle if Schezo was doing alright, once. She'd asked him in return if he had reason to believe otherwise.

"Just haven't seen him in a while," he'd said.

She snorted, rolled her eyes. "That's not unusual from him," she reassured, "he's probably sulking in his cave or something. I'll check on him, if you want."

Sig's not sure what their relationship is, anymore. In some aspects, they felt like friends, and in others they were complete strangers. Sig remembers being relieved when Arle had come back to tell him Schezo was fine, he just didn't feel like going into town the past week, as he often doesn't. Schezo had poured his heart out to Sig, once, but Sig hadn't been listening. They've baked together, and it was a pleasant enough experience that Sig considered maybe doing it again, but he didn't know how easy it'd be to ask.

At the very least, the times they talked now were light-hearted, and even when they fell into silence they were comfortable in it, both accepting of the quiet. He doesn't have any idea how anyone would describe them.

"Neighbors," pops into his head and it makes him laugh a little. The comparison is apt, though, aside from being incorrect by a literal definition. The two say hi when they see each other, they're perfectly fine both being in their yards at the same time, doing their own things, but if either wants to talk over their respective fences they will.

The fences, however, are exactly what's preventing them from breaking into something that can, in all seriousness, be considered "friends." They both keep their gates locked, and neither is keen on trying to get the other to open theirs for them.

Sig can't deny he feels somewhat disappointed over it, but it's nothing he's pressed about. If they do or if they don't, he's fine with it either way. He's just glad he doesn't have to outright avoid Schezo anymore.

He's back at the log where they'd first started this odd relationship, checking up on the bark beetles. They seem to be doing just fine at the moment, digging their holes and munching the wood. He puts his hands on the log to peer along it, and a few of them walk over his fingers on their ways to making further tunnels.

He can't help but get a little nervous when one gets a little too close to his claws. It's not something he ever panics about; that would just make it worse. Yet still, the fragility of their bodies would be crushed too easily under his finger if he lifted one at the wrong time.

Knowing now what he does, that this arm and his eye were a result of him being somehow descended from a demon, it's a daunting thing. The influx of strength in it makes more sense to him, the surges of magic feeling more intense from his left arm than his right in battle, it clicks, but it's unbelievable all the same. Concerning.

He thinks about when Klug had been possessed. The thing puppeteering him had claimed to be his other half. Sig's pretty sure it wasn't meant to be, but that's terrifying. If that was what another half of him looked like- a calm sort of anger, poised and yet furious underneath it all- what did that mean for him in the future? And that's not even mentioning that awful time in the ruins. The thought that he could have hurt Amitie that day...

Was he going to end up like that, too? Just because he was a demon?

"How are they?" A voice behind Sig asks, and he looks up in time to see Schezo kneeling to his right.

"They're doing fine," he responds, and points at one in particular. "Cousin-Darrel-Bug's been slacking, though."

Schezo scoffs. "Of course Cousin-Darrel-Bug's been slacking, have you seen him? He's a no good lazy mutt of an insect."

"You're one to talk," Sig says, and he smiles softly when Schezo gasps and starts rambling about how he is neither lazy nor a mutt, how dare you!

He looks at Schezo through the corner of his eye. He feels his smile drop a little. Schezo would know about how it feels to think you're a bad person because of your magic, wouldn't he?

Schezo leans forward over the log to stare more closely at the bark beetles, many of which seem ever more lively today than most. If Sig hadn't known any better, he'd believe the guy was just a classic case of being mean to hide the soft heart inside, the way he checks on the bugs almost as often as Sig himself.

Sig opens his mouth, closes it, repeats the process a few times before finally squeaking "Schezo," and cursing himself when his voice cracks. Still, it gets his attention. He looks over at Sig, either not noticing or not caring about the slip in his voice.

"Do you..." Sig stops, unsure of how to word his question. He often puts his foot in his mouth, and he really wishes he didn't. "Is it..."

Schezo continues to stare at him and Sig feels the need to look back at the beetles, uncomfortable with the eye contact.

He has just barely enough awareness to know that "am I going to be like you?" is an awful, terrible way to word his question.

"Am I going to be a bad person?"

Schezo frowns at him. "What went and gave you that idea?"

Sig looks at his claws, and Schezo follows his gaze with a soft, "ah."

He goes quiet for a long moment and Sig worries he's not going to answer his question at all.

"Do you think that Klug is going to be a bad person?"

Sig furrows his brows. Klug may be, in the gentlest terms possible, a complete narcissist, and mean and a showoff, but he cares. He cares so much more than he ever wanted anyone to know, but it's obvious by how desperate he is to please, how much he wants to impress everyone. And, though it's been a slow path for him, he's been trying to be better as a friend. Little steps.

"No," Sig responds.

"What of Feli?"

Sig doesn't know Feli as well as he does Klug but if he thinks about it, he thinks she must care, too. Obsession with the future aside, there must be a reason she tells everyone about theirs.

"No," he repeats.

"Well," Schezo announces, crossing his arms. "There you have it. If dark magic doesn't automatically signal you out as an awful human being, why would demon magic? They run across similar veins, you know."

Sig flexes his claws. He watches them make easy, solid marks across the wood when he does. Schezo huffs.

"Look," he says, "I hate to pull this card, given who I am and everything, but frankly it doesn't matter what kind of magic you have."

Sig's finally able to bring himself to look back at Schezo again, tilting his head questioningly.

"I mean, it's incredibly frustrating how little of the demon magic you use," he admits, "but at the very least, you don't use it with ill intent. It's not as if the very act of using it at all is a sin. It requires no sacrifice or a virgin body or what have you," he waves his hand, dismissively, and Sig huffs a little.

"Regardless, if there is one similarity you and I share, it's that we didn't ask for this. We had magic thrusted upon us without our consent." He pauses to rest his chin on his hand, looking off to the distance. "But what we did with that magic couldn't be more different. You help people, Sig."

He looks back at Sig, tapping his fingers along his knee. "You and I are very dissimilar, on that front. You're not going to grow up to be what I am. Of that I can assure you."

Sig look down at the log, humming. He... Guesses he has a point. Weird magic enhancing potions aside, it's not like he suddenly became all big and scary after his arm and eye changed. He just kind of... Accepted it and moved on.

And yet still trepidation lingers in his mind. What if.

He almost doesn't register that Schezo's placed a hand on the shoulder opposite him until Sig feels himself getting gently pulled into his side. Schezo's careful to keep his hand strictly on the shoulder, closer even to Sig's neck than his arm. When he glances up to see his face, he's visibly nervous, eyes darting every which way and his skin flushed in embarrassment. Still, in spite of it, Schezo carefully lays his other hand open in his lap, palm up.

Oh.

"The origin of your magic is unimportant, Sig," he murmers, "whether you were born with it or gifted it, it does not matter. You could have fallen from the heavens themselves, and you'd still be Sig either way. What matters, in the end, is what you decide to use your magic for."

Sig lets himself relax into Schezo's kind-of-sort-of-almost embrace, and stares at the hand he's offered out to him.

He's unlocked his gate, for Sig. Left it a few inches open for him to walk through, if he wanted.

He knows full well that doesn't mean anything. He doesn't have to unlock his own gate for Schezo, in turn. He doesn't owe it to him and he's sure Schezo probably doesn't expect him to owe anything. Hell, he doesn't even have to accept the silent offer, knowing that if he does it'll alter the direction of their relationship. He doesn't have to do anything; Schezo won't hold it against him either way. If he chooses not to walk through the gate, Schezo will just close it back up again and not bring it up.

But...

Sig gently takes Schezo's wrist in his right hand, and holds it up so that it's in the air now, palm facing him rather than towards the canopy above them.

He doesn't need to look up at Schezo, he can practically feel the mage's confusion. He hesitates a little, but ultimately, he decides that he wants to do this. In an act of the world's worst and softest high five ever, he carefully places his left hand to Schezo's, palm to palm. He hears Schezo take in a sharp breath, but he doesn't move.

When he doesn't pull away from him Sig slowly laces his fingers with Schezo's, curling them until he's holding his hand properly. Schezo doesn't do anything for a moment, and Sig is fully prepared to ask if they need to stop and let go, but eventually he responds in kind. His grip is certainly on the tighter side, but he's not squeezing so hard it hurts, so it's frankly a benefit. Sig lets their hands drop back into their laps, still intertwined.

"They're similar," he mutters, and he feels Schezo's head turn to look down at him. "Rough," he specifies. Calloused.

He leans against Schezo, resting his head on his chest. It's not the most physically comfortable thing ever, given the plate of armor between them, but knowing there's someone beneath it is comforting in the emotional sort of sense, and Sig's okay with that, right now. He closes his eyes and listens to the leaves in wind, to his and Schezo's breathing. The sounds are gentle. Comforting.

"Hey," he whispers, and Schezo hums at him. "Can we make something today?"

"Did you have something in mind?"

"Dunno. Been kind of craving muffins I think."

"I can work with that," Schezo agrees. They both fall quiet, unmoving, and then he snarks, "We need to move to be able to do that, though."

"Mmf. Few more minutes?" Sig asks, refusing to open his eyes.

Schezo sighs, but since Sig can't see it he allows a smile to play on his face.

"Okay, angel. Few more minutes."

#puyo puyo #Schezo Wegey #sig puyo puyo #Sig and Schezo Friendship Propaganda #fanfic

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the-ultimate-muses · 1 month

Note

Unable to tell if Gundham is asleep or knocked unconscious, Kokichi figures it doesn’t matter. Either way, the breeder is in a rare docile state. Which means it’s time to make his move… Easing closer like a wary animal, the little leader tenses as he catches sight of the ever-vigilant guard. Yet the large snake doesn’t make any moves toward him as Kokichi inches forward. Oddly enough none of the animals have. Choosing not to question it— he has more important things to focus on —he makes his way to the still form of Gundham.

The other man is still breathing. That’s good.

Getting on all fours, head lowered and movements slow, Kokichi really does look like a timid creature. Crawling his way over to the lying form of one of the men who hold his battered heart in their bloody grips, approach is impressively silent. Lowering himself, Kokichi curls up beside Gundham like a feral cat. Back pressed against the other man’s side, Kokichi takes comfort in the contact, however small. Exhausting weighing him down now that he’s finally succumbed to rest, dark circles under his eyes betraying him, Kokichi closes his eyes and exhales a long breath.

With any luck, he’ll wake and make his escape before Gundham even has a chance to know he was here. - (( *thinks about how Kaz’s ask is the First Ignore Time, so what if this leads to the First Cuddle Time with a despair boi :3c* ))

@not-bcring

While Kazuichi tended to be made of loud, rough edges, no matter his state be sane or despaired, Gundham had always been his opposite, with gentle touch and honeyed words (no matter how often he would call himself evil).

Just like with Kaz, however, it was a mystery how he might react to someone, but no matter what, there was always a balance. Balance was important, without balance, there would be pandemonium, the philosophy of which would be confirmed with a simple look outside. Thus far, the breeder had been nothing but manic since waking, pacing and spouting nonsense soliloquy until Kazuichi had gotten sick of the noise. Perhaps that was why Gundham did things like that, it less out of insanity and more so a way to seek punishment for what he's done in a way he knows will hurt.

How long he had lay on the floor of what served as their 'living room', he was yet unsure, the drawn blinds sending a ray of light across his eyes, but not enough to discern the time by the suns place in the sky. With the sunbeam hitting where it was through that window in particular, it could be anywhere from noon to four in the evening, but things such as time didn't tend to mean much anymore, with the world how it was. None of them slept until collapsing, nor did they eat until the pains became too much to bear. Ironically, Gundham got the most rest out of all of them, if one considered being knocked unconscious every other day as rest.

It's as the darkness slowly fades that Gundham grows aware of the jester, his body remaining stock still, waiting until Kokichi had a sense of security, or perhaps had even fallen asleep, to suddenly roll over and pin him to the floor. "What was your goal, hm? Sanctuary? Comfort? Or perhaps you were seeking the anguish that comes with my poison touch." Said 'touch' manifested in a hand around Kokichi's throat, not quite choking him yet, simply squeezing in a reminder that should he wish it, Gundham could end Kokichi with nothing more than a twitch of his wrist.

"You cannot have both, my dear." A tighter squeeze at the pet name as a darkness took over the breeder's eyes. "Or, I could simply crate you like the mutt you are. Would you like that? You'd be safe, is that not what you seek?"

#muse: gundham tanaka #v: despair #not bcring

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pazii · 3 years

Note

Can you make childe x reader zhongli x reader xiao x reader (separate) headcanon when they playing or spending time with their child 👁👄👁?

Hi! Of course! I was just thinking about Dad!Childe a while ago hehe

Pairings: Dad!Childe/Dad!Zhongli/Dad!Xiao x The other parent!GN!Reader x their child (platonic with their kids, separate)

Warning(s): Fluff, a bit of archon quest spoilers in Childe's, not proofread

Summary: Childe, Zhongli and Xaio being cute with you and you guys' kids :)

☆ Childe

Start off by saying the obvious, Childe is very good with children thanks to having quite a few siblings

It is also well known that the 11th Harbinger is a family man, he loves his family more than anything else

You and Childe had a beautiful child who unfortunately for you, acts just like their father

The two father and child are a chaotic duo, you are left to be the sensible parent

He absolutely loves both you and you guys' kid

He is often busy with his job being a harbinger and all but when he does get free time, he goes straight back to the both of you!

He will do any and all things his kid asked, playing pretend, hide and seek, having a tea party? Sounds fun! He just wants to see them happy

He is the type of father to match his kid's energy

anything his kid does he will follow

He would definitely bring the child and you outside to have play dates

“Come catch butterflies with daddy!”

Don't worry Childe is there to protect the both of you if any monsters or people even dare to lay a finger on you two

He will spoil his kid with mountains and mountains of gifts, toys,etc. Anything a child dream of he will get it

If you guys decide to stay inside

Him and his kid will be doing a lot of silly yet cute things (cute to you)

One time they were playing pretend, Childe was pretending to be a pirate and was saying a lot ofailly but funny stuff to get your kid laughing

Please stop him before he tries to teach your kid how to hold and use a weapon

“Childe! They're still young! It's dangerous!”

“Don't worry I will never let them get hurt! Plus, it's never too early to teach them how to protect themselves!”

I believe that Childe knows how to cook fairly well due to having siblings again

You and him were making lunch when your kid asked to join

so the both of you gave them simple tasks to help putting the meal together

Childe was very patient guiding them step by step!

Be preparing for random gifts in the form of food after that

Childe and your kid will secretly make them for you :)

I have this image in my head like you know how Childe can create a narwhal as an attack during his boss fight?

What if he creates small water animals for his kid to just play with, like the animals moves around and it's just beautiful

Your kid is looking at them with curious eyes asking how he does that

You're just watching them with a smile while your heart melts in the cuteness from both of them 😭 (I love this man so much)

Childe definitely tickles his kid if they’re ticklish, same goes for you. No escape.

He likes reading or telling stories to his kid to get them to fall asleep

“Sweet dreams, my little warrior”

☆ Zhongli

I'd say Zhongli also knows how to deal with kids

He has all the patience and love in the world for you guys'!

He would love telling stories to his kid, seeing their smile and curious eyes asking him what happens next or can him tell another, always makes his heart melt

He would often teach his kid new skills and knowledge that he thinks would be helpful

He definitely have Introduction his kid to Xiao and maybe the other adeptus too (Xiao love your kid too)

He doesn't understand most games that children likes to play but he'll do his best if his kid asked him to play with them

He would lose on purpose to make his kid happy

Zhongli tries to keep you guys' kid away from Hu Tao since he doesn't want her to teach them anything weird or dangerous

He likes to take walks with them either in Liyue harbor or just outside it

Geo dad protects!!

Imagine Zhongli sitting on top of his pillar while watching the sunset with his kid on his lap, dozing off into dreamland. He's humming a song softly while admiring his kid

Ask Childe for mora to buy his kid stuff

Where you're the one to wake up before your husband and child, and you decide to make breakfast. Zhongli comes out with your kid following after they're both clearly still tired

“Morning”

“Morning, dear”

He comes up to hug you from behind, gently laying his head on yours

Your kid sees this and hug you two's legs together

family group hug :)

☆ Xiao

Unlike Childe and Zhongli, Xiao has no idea how to take care of children

He loves his kid of course he does but what does kids like to do again?

He's usually just watching while you play with your kid

“Xiao why don't you join us?”

“I don't understand this..”

You were playing hide and seek with your kid

He thinks his job is just to protect and make sure you and his kid are safe from harm

So that's what he does

He's even more vigilant now more than ever

He must make sure the two most precious people to him are always safe.

He has told his kid that if anything ever happens, just call out his name and he will be there in a blink of an eye

Your kid is used to him just watching from the side but they do want more of his attention

“Daddy! I found some flowers for you!”

You took your kid outside of Wangshu Inn to pick some silk flowers

He does like bringing back gifts for the two of you, your kid really likes the crystal cores he brings back

One time, you left your kid in Xiao's care since you were busy

They went on a walk but then a small geo slime approached them

Your kid thought it was adorable and wanted to pet it

but Xiao thought otherwise

He quickly picked up your kid away from the slime

which resulted in your kid throwing a temper tantrum

Archons help him, Xiao didn't know what to do

He was panicking that his kid is crying and he doesn't know how to calm them down- He just took his crying kid back to Wangshu Inn

Luckily you returned soon after that and is able to calm them down, both of them yes.

You found the story quite amusing much to Xian dismay

Xiao also definitely cooks almond tofu for them

Xiao do enjoy star gazing with you and your kid on the roof of the Inn

The both of you are his light in this dark life

acK- I hope that's good enough! Thank you for requesting and I hope you likehow it turned out! <3

Requests are open!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact childe #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #Zhongli #Childe #Tartaglia #Xiao #reader insert

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cherryjuicegf · 3 years

Note

Hello, love!! 💕💕 If it's no trouble, can i have number 29 of the 5 word whump prompts please?? You can choose the ship, i trust you!! 💕💕

in the morning, i'll be with you

thanks so much for this prompt love!! surprisingly it fit with a geraskefer bingo prompt so who am I to say no :D

29. “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

for @geraskeferbingo prompt: argument || geraskefer mainly, geraskier interaction, 1.3k, T, hurt/comfort, character injury

For one more day, the sun rises.

Jaskier looks out of the window. Lets the first rays fall on his eyes, blind him, deliberately as though, in a failed attempt to return to the much desired darkness. Something closer to sleep, at least. At least, he won't have to sit in this damned chair for days on end in stoic vigil, waiting, waiting, and he's tired of waiting. This craved darkness. He thinks, at least then he doesn't have to lay eyes on Geralt once more.

Not before he's fully awake.

He does. Of course he does and for once, there are no violet eyes to bear his agony, to share it, in a way. Sometimes when he looks at them he suspects her agony is screaming louder than his and he longs for it to cease, for him to take the burden, all of it, just for her not to hurt.

But she's not here now. Either way, after all the blood and chaos and despair, she deserves some rest.

If he feels the constant breeze of her form passing beside him, he doesn't think about it.

Once more, he turns to stare at Geralt. There, as though it's the only movement he's capable of, he stares. He wants to scream.

He did. When Geralt was lying on the ground drowning in a puddle of blood, his blood, stumbling between life and death. Jaskier had seen him like that again, of course he had. From the hollow of her gaze, he knew Yennefer had seen him too. And yet, this time, oh, this time they could both sense the soft stroking of death as it passed past them and, as though competing in a lost fight with the foolish hope of success, he screamed. Clung on Geralt, a grip on his soul to stay in its place while Yennefer was whispering broken enchantments beside him, saving what was slipping through their hands.

She did. And he knew then, Destiny's turn had still to wrap them in its claws. And yet, oh, how familar it all felt.

Like a caress by the strings of future.

He wants to scream. He doesn't. He doesn't want to wake Geralt, he needs to sleep, finally. Although, by the rapid shaking of his chest and the fever burning him like a fire, he thinks, at the moment, sleep is a dangerous escape.

And, as if hearing the howling of his thoughts, Geralt opens his eyes.

All the poets of the world would be unable to describe with words the aching relief that overwhelms Jaskier the moment he looks into amber eyes, seeing them alive, shining with fever and the veil of nightmares unknown to him. The relief, and the horror all the same.

Geralt turns, looks at him, or at least seems like he does. "Jaskier," he says, whines, and Jaskier shivers, as though hearing his name pouring from these lips for the first time. His voice is rough, barely audible. Still enough.

Jaskier smiles, feels his eyes burning. "Hey, there." Geralt is not actually here, he knows. He knows by the way his eyes dart around the room for a threat that doesn't exist, by the way Geralt looks at him and and the darkness of the world shadows his gaze. Still. Jaskier stands, takes the cup of water from the nightstand and gently, as though afraid to break the glass of Geralt's lethargy, he brings it to the witcher's lips. Geralt hesitates on the first sip, and he puts a hand on his, shaking as he holds the cup. "Slowly," he says and Geralt drinks greedily, "you'll choke."

His own voice sounds hollow on his tongue, falsely tender, concealing a grief that can only get out in cries. Geralt lowers the cup on the nightstand.

And, again, he looks around. The moment his look meets him, Jaskier freezes. Geralt frowns as if in thought, then tilts his head. "Yen?"

A pause, and Jaskier huffs a strained laugh, shakes his head. He thinks some stray tears are starting to fall. "She's alright, don't fret." He hates how Geralt frowns deeper, hates the doubt, as though it's his own. "She needed some air, that's all."

Geralt stares at him and somehow, he feels guilty, as though uttering the worst truth of the world. It seems that he did. Geralt grunts. "You're lying."

"No, I–" Jaskier swallows, looks at him. Searching for something he's afraid is not there, not now. He snorts, voice coming out coward. "Geralt, I wouldn't lie about this."

For a second, he thinks he's lying to himself. What if he goes out and finds Yennefer collapsed from exhaustion? What if it's not exhaustion? What if they found them again?

Geralt making to rise to his feet wakes him from his momentary panic and he pushes him back. "You're injured, you can't move!"

Amber eyes pierce him like daggers, glazed over with fear, worse, anger. "I know you're lying, Jaskier, I see it in your eyes."

"You're delirious."

"I have to see her!" and Geralt rises again, Jaskier watching in horror as the bandages on his abdomen stain with blood, and he pushes him back again, making him growl as he searches the room, frantically, trapped in a neverending nightmare and the tears are now scrotching hot, and Jaskier can smell the blood as Geralt thrashes weakly into his arms.

"Geralt, stop, please," he glances at the bandages again, crimson red, and back at Geralt, "you're hurting yourself, please–"

A bruising grip on his forearm. "Where is she?" Geralt's voice is weaker now, almost pleading, and he looks at Jaskier drowning in despair. "Is she dead? Why are you crying?" More tears, flooding and Geralt's grip tightens, his eyes widen even more. "Speak!"

"Fuck, Geralt!" Jaskier pushes him one last time on the pillow with more force than he would admit, and steps back. "You've been in the verge of dying for three days and you ask me why I am crying?" He laughs, sharply, and it feels like the only reasonable thing to do. When did he start shouting? "Yennefer is alright, as much as she can be, and you're fucking bleeding! Please, please stay down," he shakes his head, vision blurry with tears, "we're alright, I promise."

Silence.

Jaskier blinks the tears away, looks at Geralt, into his eyes, suddenly half-closed, suddenly clear. His chest moves slowly and somehow, it's comforting. As Jaskier parts his lips, a sob chokes his throat, and his voice sounds small, exhausted. "Geralt?"

Geralt breathes evenly now, stares at him. With confusion, pain. Warmth. His lips curve in something close to a smile. "Jaskier... You're here."

As though with a snap, Jaskier lets out a silent laugh. Steps closer, on the bed, lowers himself beside him again. "Yes, dear." His hand cups Geralt's face and the witcher leans into the touch. "I'm here."

A figure standing on the door.

Geralt frowns slightly, barely awake. He raises a hand on Jaskier's cheek, trailed by rivers. "Why are you crying?"

"Just happy," Jaskier says and it sounds more like a whimper. He catches Geralt's hand on his face, sees as the witcher lets his eyes drop. "That's all. Hush now, love."

The mattress dips on the other side and violet eyes study him in a tired softness he wants to kiss away. A delicate hand, tangled into Geralt's hair, and she leans down, places a kiss on his forehead. "We're going to be alright, Geralt."

Geralt hums, a familiar warmth nuzzling at his side. Barely a moment after, he's asleep.

Jaskier thinks it's going to be a restful sleep. As Yennefer lies down, finally, after what feels like centuries, as he feels her hand finding its way inside his, he knows it will be.

He discerns a faint smile on her lips. Yennefer breathes shakily.

The sun has risen, but it's only time for them to bask in comforting darkness, and he lowers his head on Geralt's shoulder with a sigh. And stays there.

#the witcher #geraskefer #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #geraskier #yenralt #yennskier #chrysa writes #geraskefer bingo #prompt fill #whump prompts #moonysrz #fic recs #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #hurt/comfort #i'll post on ao3 later #also i've not read this through any typos are your problem now <3

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krisingtons · 3 years

Text

So I got a sick!Izuku cared for by powered All Might request a while back from @nanami85240 that I've been hanging onto for a while. For reasons, I don't normally write powered Dadmight, but I took a stab at it! I felt like it fit Tumblr a bit better for no particular reason, so enjoy!

He's Fine

(Dadmight Sick fic)

Something’s off about Midoriya today. All Might can tell.

He’d grown accustomed to his protege’s moods and abilities over the course of their ten months of training. The boy has an excess of spirit, a spirit that will serve him well as a hero but causes problems as a hero in training. If only All Might could get Midoriya to pace himself on his own rather than needing to readjust his regime again. And again. And again.

So All Might can tell that something is off about Midoriya today. To the untrained eyes of his new classmates, nothing seems amiss. They continue the exercise All Might set for them in Heroics as if everything is fine, thinking only ahead to the upcoming Sports Festival in their determination and not behind to the disastrous USJ attack.

The attack that almost took All Might and Midoriya both.

All Might had been right that he could only hold his powered form for an hour after that, although if he didn’t fight at all in it, he could maybe stretch it to an hour and a half. It was a stretch, but he did it for the citizens, the students. For his successor.

So when All Might sees Midoriya’s sluggish movements and his glassy eyes, unnoticed by his classmates, All Might sucks in his gut even more, determined to keep his protective armor on.

Now he wears it for him and Midoriya equally.

Had he noticed the problem a split second earlier, All Might would have had the sense to stop the exercise and pull Midoriya out to assess the situation. But he’s still new to teaching and he still wants to encourage his student’s spirit and he still doesn’t want to single Midoriya out, so he hesitates. And that moment of hesitation is all it takes for the boy to collapse on the field, much to the surprise of the other students.

“Shit,” All Might mutters. He leaves the observation booth in a leap and lands right at Midoriya’s side. The boy pants heavily, attempting to lift himself up with his newly-muscular arms but fails spectacularly.

“What seems to be the problem here, young Midoriya?” All Might hears himself boom as his mind whirls with concern. Is anything broken? Is he dehydrated? Does he have cuts? Did someone hit him too hard? Midoriya once fell off a pile of trash during their training, and although the situation now seems much less dire than that, the concern All Might feels has somehow only grown stronger.

When the boy attempts to speak, perhaps to say, “I’m fine” but in a way that indicates he clearly is not fine, All Might leans over his small, fragile body to keep prying eyes away. “It’s okay, young Midoriya, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, quieter than he normally speaks in this form. Before he can question himself, before he remembers that UA has designated medical robots to take students to the infirmary, he scoops up Midoriya into his arms. It poses no strain at all, really, even if he’s been in this form for forty-five minutes already, but he notices how much stockier his successor has become since the time he fell off the trash.

“Alright, class, keep going with the exercise! Young Iida, watch over everyone for now.” Before anyone can question it, All Might leaps into the air and is gone.

He’s at the infirmary in no time, but to his dismay, he doesn’t see Recovery Girl right away. With a cough, he adjusts himself to keep the hold on his muscular form, not wanting to drop it yet. Not yet.

All the cots are open, so he sets Midoriya down on the one by the window. He’s been here enough to know that Midoriya prefers that cot, and knowing that sends a jolt of guilt through All Might. His successor has been here far too many times already. Now, though, it’s not through his heroics but through… what? All Might still doesn’t know.

Midoriya groans as he blinks his eyes open, peering about the room. All Might finds a cup and a pitcher of water, pouring it for the boy and handing him the glass.

“Here. Have some water and tell me what’s going on, young man.” Midoriya blinks a few times, takes the cup from All Might’s large hand and has a sip. He sits up, then stares down at the bed with a flush on his face. Before Midoriya can say anything, All Might brings a large hand to the boy’s forehead and frowns.

“You have a fever,” he says flatly. Midoriya’s face falls, as if he knew that already. “Be honest, young Midoriya: did you know you had a fever when you came to class today?” The boy flinches.

“I… kind of woke up feeling bad. But I didn’t think I had a fever, I swear!” the boy cries, his wide eyes pleading to All Might. “I felt fine most of this morning, but I don’t know, the heat was just a lot. I’m fine, I swear!”

“You’re not fine,” All Might scolds, causing Midoriya to shrink a bit. “You passed out in the middle of a training exercise. What if that had been a real battle, young man?” What if that had been the USJ? All Might thinks.

“I’m- I’m sorry, All Might. You’re right.” Midoriya says this in a way that indicates he’s not so sure if he believes All Might is right, but he’s also not yet at the point of refuting his hero. Then, his face scrunches up in confusion as he looks up at All Might. “Um, should you still be holding your hero form like that? I don’t want to make you use your time limit,” he whispers. All Might shakes his head.

“Nonsense, young Midoriya! You’re not feeling well, and that means I’m still on the job, so of course I’d still be a hero! Besides,” he adds in a lowered voice, “we don’t know who might come back with Recovery Girl whenever she returns, so it’d be best to not risk it.”

Midoriya nods as if that makes sense, but All Might knows that’s not the full truth of it. He doesn’t admit this, not even to himself, but as he stares at his successor in this cot, his mind flashes to him bandaged and broken after the USJ. All Might’s insides turn at his recent conversation with Tsukauchi and the implication of who created the nomu, and what that means for the boy lying in this bed. All Might’s mind whirls with all the dangers that could befall this boy before him, this boy he chose for these dangers, and the longer he knows him, the heavier the dread becomes at what could befall him.

So, All Might can stay in this form a little while longer. He needs to be ready to protect his student. He’ll protect him this time.

All Might’s pulled from his thoughts when he sees Midoriya almost drop the half-full cup of water, his eyes falling closed. His smile feels a little less strained at the sight of it, a little more genuine. It feels strange, but nice, to hold a genuine smile in this form.

“Young Midoriya, lie down. Go ahead and rest until Recovery Girl returns.” As Midoriya curls up on his side, All Might grabs the blankets and another pillow from one of the other cots. He sets the pillow gently by the boy’s arms, which prompts the kid to grab it and hold it close. Then, All Might draps the extra blankets over him. He shivers when they make contact, then settles into the bed. Soon enough, he’s asleep.

All Might pulls out his phone and calls Aizawa.

“Aizawa, it’s All Might. I need you to watch Class 1-A for me for the rest of Heroics. Midoriya came down with something and Recovery Girl isn’t back yet to check on him.” He pauses as he listens to the voice on the other end. “No, no, I’ll stay here,” All Might assures his colleague. “The class already has their assignment, so they just need someone to spot them. There’s no sense in us both moving around when I’m already here. Besides, there’s not much time left.” After begrudging agreement from the fellow teacher, he ends the call with a, “Thank you, Aizawa.”

After he ends the call, it still takes a while for Recovery Girl to come back. Later, All Might realizes that he’s held his hero form for longer today than he had since the USJ. But he’s fine, he feels fine. He doesn’t think much of it at all, honestly. He’s only watching the boy in the bed, the boy who was too stubborn to stay home when sick, the boy that All Might knows will be a wonderful hero someday.

But for now, since he can, All Might will stay vigilant over his boy. For now, he’ll ignore the fact that young Midoriya has become “his” boy somewhere along the way. For now, he’ll pretend like he’d react the same way with any student. And for now, he’ll silently hope that Midoriya feels better soon, not wanting him to hurt any more.

#dadmight #all might #izuku midoriya #bnha fanfiction #self promo #fic request #sickfic

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bumbleklee · 3 years

Note

Could you make a fic based on the song Moondust By Jaymes Young? With Xiao or Zhongli? It’s fine if you decline, I enjoyed your Lonestar fic a lot! Also, thank you in advance if you do this! ^^

after this, i decided im a monster. this is so sad, like so so sad. i don't know if this is what you had in mind but since the song is basically about learning how to live/love without someone, i went down a death route. i also went w xiao. pls enjoy (and grab a tissue)

before reading: ANGST!!! you literally die and are a ghost the entire time. mentions of injury and blood as well as self-harm and suicidal thoughts. word count is around 2.1k (under cut for length)

I'm building this house, on the moon Like a lost, astronaut Lookin' at you, like a star From a place, the world forgot And there's nothing, that I can do Except bury my love for you

Death was quick.

You know instantly that you’re dead the second you open your eyes. You can still remember the feeling of the Fatui pyro agent slicing his knife across your throat and if you think about it enough, your neck tingles. You remember falling to your knees, being laughed at, and then you saw nothing.

Well, you saw blackness.

And then when you came to, you were standing in the middle of Liyue Harbor. The world seemed duller but it was real. No one paid any mind to you, so you assumed you were a ghost.

It’s nice to still be able to watch the sun rise high above your hometown.

There’s no panic, no rush to find out what’s going on, you don’t need to. Your hands travel to your throat and the horrific wound is gone. In fact, all of the scrapes and bruises and imperfections on your body were gone. Death brings solace, you humor.

Your peaceful moment was interrupted by two frantic voices. They catch the attention of everyone in the area, including you, and you spin around quickly.

Xiao.

“Break the contract, please, Zhongli-” His voice is frazzled, filled with a sadness the living can’t understand. “I can’t live without them.”

You looked down at your left hand, heart shattering at the absence of the jade ring. Right. You were going to marry Xiao later that year. Not anymore.

A hundred thousand memories of sweet kisses and long nights flooded into your mind. They caused you to hold your breath, too many emotions crashing through your tired form. You felt like crying but couldn’t (ghosts didn’t have tears, you guessed).

You’re standing right in front of the love of your life and he can’t see you.

Maybe it’s a good thing he can’t see you because Xiao already looked wrecked. His eyes were puffy and red and his hair was disheveled. Unhealed scratches wound his arms like ribbon. You had been with Xiao for years, through the good and the bad, and never once had you ever seen him in this state.

He’s pleading still and Zhongli has an indescribable expression on his face. “I can’t,” His voice is barely a whisper, “You know I can’t.”

Xiao wails, falling to his knees. Zhongli feels his pain, you know he does, yet he won’t put him out of misery. You watch as Zhongli bends down and lifts the adeptus into his arms, swiftly walking away from the crowd. You follow ensuite and Xiao’s eyes are hazy, staring through you over Zhongli’s shoulder.

“I’m right here.”

But he doesn’t hear you.

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

You begin to follow Xiao around. Not that he goes anywhere, too heartbroken to move, but you keep watch of him like he once did for you.

He resorts to staying in Zhongli’s apartment. The consultant isn’t around most of the day and Xiao rarely leaves his bed. His tears stain the satin pillowcase and he curls upon himself. Sometimes you stand in the doorway and stare, other times you muster up enough courage to go and sit on the unoccupied side of the bed.

The first time you touch Xiao again is at night. He’s crying and without thinking, you wrap your body around his. His chest is pressed against yours and you press your lips to his shoulder.

It’s not warm anymore. In fact, it feels like nothing.

But still, you hold Xiao until he’s asleep. You don’t let go all night, opting to watch your beloved finally get some rest. You wonder if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of eternity? Would you follow Xiao around aimlessly for centuries more?

Or maybe you’re just stuck here. You recall a saying from an elder in Liyue years ago, “Spirits with unfinished business can’t move.”

You decided then that you were going to help him move on, help Xiao bury his love for you.

Nothing can breath, in the space Colder than, the darkest sea I have dreams about the days, driving through your sunset breeze But the first thing, that I will do Is bury my love for you

There’s no book about being a ghost. You have to figure it out on your own and you’ve never been more grateful no one can see you go straight through the wall for the third time that hour. Over time, you create your own handbook in your mind, jotting down anything you discover as your time as a dead person entails.

Within the first week, you understand that no one can see you, hear you, or feel you. And while you can vaguely touch objects and people, the sensation is different than when you were alive. Every human trait was thrown out the window - you don’t need to sleep, breathe or eat and drink anything.

You attend your funeral exactly a week after your body was discovered and someone propped your sword against your casket. You try to grasp it, to pick it up, but you only manage to push it over with a gust of nonexistent wind. It clambers to the floor, the funeral parlor growing silent, and you take this as your cue to leave.

You wondered if Xiao, or anyone of that matter, could sense you at least. Even if Xiao couldn’t see you, just him knowing you were there would ascend you to the afterlife (right?).

You also find out you can’t leave Liyue. There’s an invisible border keeping you trapped in the country and, frankly, you don’t mind. Xiao won’t leave Liyue so you don’t need to leave Liyue. But sometimes you get anxious that one day Xiao will leave Liyue and never return. And if you haven’t accomplished your goal yet, would you truly be stuck as a monster among men?

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

On particularly good days, Xiao talks to you. Zhongli was gone early one morning and Xiao pulled himself out of bed and to the living room, opting to open the blinds and see sunlight for the first time in weeks.

You sit on the coffee table with your legs criss-crossed as Xiao mumbles desolate words.

“I keep just wishing I would wake up dead. I miss you so much.”

You frown. “I’m here, I’m right here.”

But he can’t hear you. “You aren’t here to make me laugh at your stupid jokes anymore. And I just...I should have been there! I should have-”

His voice cracks and you move off the coffee table, wrapping your arms around his quivering body. You try to press yourself against him, squeeze your arms so tight that he’ll feel you, but you can’t. You can’t kiss his chapped lips and move your bodies so he’s curled into the crook of your neck.

Sometimes, you watch Xiao hurt himself. He digs his nails into his arms or thighs until he draws blood, only to push it all away and scream into the ground. You want to snap him out of him, tell him to stop doing that to himself, but you can only sit and stare.

You were nothing to Liyue - a common human who added nothing of importance to society. Yes, your death was sad for many people but the world kept turning. Xiao, on the other hand, was so special. He was the Vigilant Yaksha - the people of Liyue needed him forever.

“I miss you. I love you. I miss you.”

I'm a cast away, and men reap what they sow And I say what I know, to be true Yeah I'm living far away, on the face of the moon I've buried my love to give the world to you

Xiao goes out sometimes. It’s either to patrol the city or on a walk with Zhongli. It’s not much but it's an improvement. Like always, you follow him.

He’s started to have nightmares, waking up in a rush. He used to comfort you when you had nightmares and it pains you that you can’t return the favor. You try, by God, you try. You run your hands down his back comfortingly but Xiao only cries harder.

When Xiao sees Ganyu for the first time in months and she gives him homemade almond tofu, he smiles. It’s small and quick but you see it.

Growing up, you had thought that the living mourned the dead. When your grandmother died, you felt broken for a while, but that pain was minimal compared to this. Having to live endless days as an invisible soul while the living grieved was unbearable.

When no one is around, Xiao breaks down. He hurts himself, insults himself and wishes for you endlessly. When Xiao tries to jump off the roof of the apartment complex in the middle of the night and survives with only an injured arm, you realize he’s pushing his body. He’s trying to kill himself.

So, you scream.

Every waking hour of the day you scream.

“I’m right here, Xiao! I love you and I’m right here! I’m sorry for being careless and getting killed but you aren’t ready to join me yet!”

You know he doesn’t hear you, he can’t hear you, and yet Xiao slowly stops hurting himself.

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

It takes a year for Xiao to finally begin to cope with your death and you know your journey will be coming to end soon.

He still talks to you except now it’s hopeful and filled with acceptance. On the anniversary of your death, he travels to the Dragon-Queller early in the morning. He sits down in the spot he used to take you to and rubs the grass softly, as if motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You do.

“I’m leaving Liyue next week.”

A million feelings run through your veins. You want to throw up, scream, cry. Is a week enough time to get Xiao to move on from you? Had he already moved on? There were too many questions you couldn’t fucking ask.

You can’t bear to listen to the rest. Your feet travel on their own, taking you far away from Xiao and back into the heart of Liyue Harbor. You didn’t know where you were until you heard a voice call out for you.

“Hey, you!”

You were imagining voices now. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Y/N!”

A short, young woman came into your view and you finally looked up. You had walked right into the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Hu Tao was staring at you, not through you.

“I knew you were still here.”

Hu Tao could see you.

It didn’t make sense but you didn’t have time to make it make sense. Without thinking, you cried out to Hu Tao and begged her to help you save Xiao, save yourself.

“I want to go with him,” You say.

“But you can’t.”

“Then he’s going to forget about me.”

Hu Tao chuckled softly, “You think Xiao would forget about you?”

You don’t answer. Maybe it was you that didn’t want to forget about Xiao. Either way, it hurts. “He’s going to fall in love with someone new and-”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

It was. You wanted Xiao to be happy without you, to learn to love again. You wanted him to bury his love for you so you could both be free.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hu Tao says, “Xiao will find you again one day.”

She clasps her hands together and reaches them out to you. You look down and see a moving image of Xiao. He’s still talking softly, this time with a small smile on his lips. You close your eyes suddenly, not wanting to see anymore. You step outside of the funeral parlor and whisper “I love you” into the wind.

The sun is shining high in the sky when Teyvat begins to disappear from your vision.

Maybe in another life you and Xiao will spend forever together. You’ll have a grand wedding, start a family, and grow old together like you should have. But for now, you’ll see him from the moon.

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin self insert #genshin angst #genshin writing #genshin impact writing #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao #zhongli #hu tao #im sorry for this

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loser-hub · 4 years

Text

Endeavor: an attempt to achieve a goal.

Summary: Self indulgent ficlet with a contemplative, worrisome Endeavor.

Warnings: None! Pure, unadulterated fluff.

The three remaining Todoroki children all come to a sudden realization: they hadn't seen their father at home for quite some time. Everyday when they returned they find the house quiet. They knew their father worked long hours and was rarely home but often times when they were getting ready for the day, they would hear him leave. Now however they heard nothing when they were awake and nothing when they were asleep. The new dynamic at home was welcomed by the youngest of the three while the two eldest weren't sure what to make of it, despite the new peace they were worried for his safety and well-being.

Enji would find his way to your home everyday after work, he'd set his shoes aside while you helped him remove his jacket. No words would be spoken, afraid the sound of speech would shatter the intimate moment. He'd wander over to the recliner you had bought for him and sit down, a short glass of bourbon in hand, to contemplate. The time varies. He may sit in silence from ten minutes to an hour. He'd sit alone or pull you into his large lap when you passed by. Those were the moments he'd cry. Letting the emotions he bottled up release in a torrent of self-doubt. Asking questions you didn't have the answer to but helped explain away, your fingers combing through his crimson colored hair while he hid in the crook of your neck. Often how he wondered how much suffering he had to endure for sufficient recompense, what he had to do to prove he's changed and learned from his mistakes. What he had to swear to reconcile with the people he's hurt. That's all he wanted and the longer time went on the heavier the task weighed, you tried to share the burden but this was his to resolve.

Contemplative silence accompanied with your presence was calming, grounding. Holding you in his arms he didn't feel so alone, you relied on him and that made getting out of bed worth it. Your smile was the light of his life, your laughter the fuel to his fire, the way you looked at him in soft moments the reason he kept going.

The time varied but when he felt that he had recharged enough his attention is solely on you. You've been so attentive to his needs he can only repay in kind in his own awkward and unsure way. The first on his list is to always make sure you've eaten, your health one of his top priorities so he'll ask if you have. Offering to make a meal with you or take you out, if neither of you are in the mood to socialize takeout is ordered right to your doorstep. The next nightly step is asking how your day was, letting you unload your worries and stresses onto his more than capable shoulders. He doesn't want you to keep your emotions under lock and key, knowing full well how dangerous that can be. He's not as wise as he wishes but he'll be damned if he doesn't offer you advice and even help with whatever has you down. Work to familial matters and everything in between. He wants to he relied on, to be the rock and light in your life just as you are to his. He'd do everything for you if he could but he's aware that kind of relationship can turn toxic and he wants to avoid that if possible. Though he doesn't know if any relationship with him no matter the length will stay stable. No more toxicity, no dependency and no fights. The motto he lives by throughout your relationship until its second nature. Healthy, happy and secure.

Your home becomes as cold as the Arctic whenever Enji is around. His quirk a blessing and a curse. Even when its deactivated Hellflame produces an exorbitant amount of heat, heat that when he's trying to relax and wind down makes him unbearably uncomfortable. Solution? Crank that thermostat down as it could go. Compromise? Enji pays your electric bill and he keeps you warm with snuggling. Perfect compromise. It just works.

The Number One Hero is a walking furnace, a furnace that has no qualms about you using him as a bed. Its the least he can do for putting you through the cold for his sake. Your form resting against his while a thin blanket is draped across your bodies for privacies sake as an extra layer of insulation. His hand is large, fingers thick and calloused and barely used to administrating soft touches. He tries. Hand laying at the curve of your back, his fingertips brushing across your spine, your head laying on his broad chest. The moment is serene. The occasional activation of the air conditioner breaking the quietness of the room, the whirring of the blades drowned out by the thudding heartbeat directly underneath your ear. There was something unique about sleeping with a hero, the top ranking hero at that, that made the world feel different. Feel safe. The worries of the world and the villains all melted away.

Eventually the thumping of Enji's heart and the exhaustion of the day catches up with you, lulling you to sleep without your consent. You don't realize you've fallen asleep until you're in a dream, whatever blessed reprieve from the outside world taking control of your senses. Hands play with your hair and massage the knots out of your muscles so delicately, ghosts of touches placed on your skin while the your half waits to follow you to the Dreamland.

Sleep never comes to Enji easily, never has. Even when he pushed his body to the point of falling apart he'd lay awake, staring at the ceiling, and even witnessing the sunrise once or twice before he'd fall asleep. Never for long. An hour or two at the moment. That's not the case with you. The sleep cycle he's known the majority of his life gets turned on its head in your presence, in your arms he nods off before he can stop the encroaching slumber. Part of him welcomes it with open arms and the other, the ever alert hero, needs him to stay awake. He knows he's the target of many villains and needs to be vigilant to ensure your safety. His heart clenches in despair whenever his intrusive thoughts turn down the path of losing you. Getting caught in the crossfire or kidnapped to be used against him are two possibilities that do keep him up at night, thoughts swimming of what would happen if he lost you. His ultimate failure.

He doesn't notice you've woken up until your hands are on either side of his face, cupping his cheeks and your worried voice calling out his name. Snapped back to reality he always apologizes for waking you, never accepting that you simply needed water as an answer. You must've known and felt his worry in your sleep, his teeth grind together when he gets lost in his own thoughts.

"You won't let that happen, I'll never leave you", he's always stunned silent whenever you say such things. His firstborn, his wife, his other children, his family. You have so much trust in him to give him hope like that, he'd understand if you feared the relationship with him would have the same outcome but you don't. Day-after-day building him to be better and more than he was. His large arms scoop you up and hold you close, if he didn't fear what you'd think of him he'd let a handful of tears slip. He had never known happiness this unbridled, this pure before. It defeated him every way imaginable and he wanted more, the only thing granted to him unreservedly that he'd accept. Keeping you from the cold, saving you from the villains, letting you mould him, helping him reconcile with his remaining family..

He'd endeavor through it all with you.

#boku no hero academia fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader #x reader #tw: fluff #tw: none

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