#giving myself anxiety headaches and stomach aches | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysmegrace · 3 years

Note

can i please request rfa with mc who has constant stomach , head and back pain thanks to stress / anxiety please ?

of course~ i'm kinda going through something similar ha... classes are scheduled to start again soon and my anxiety always spikes worse than it does regularly.

RFA with an MC who has Constant Stomach, Head, and Back Pain Due to Anxiety/Stress

---

yoosung kim:

your entire day had been a nightmare.

from participating in classes and working a part time job, you were worn out.

honestly, you felt quite sick.

you hadn’t noticed how much your body was aching until you had finally arrived home.

aiming for your bed, you wasted no time in unpacking before landing straight into your pillows.

the stress and anxiety the day gave you has now left you barely awake, small groans of pain leaving your mouth.

some higher power had given you the gift of sleep for no more than an hour before you were awoken by a phone call.

of course saeyoung would mess with you after he’d seen you on the cctvs walking home exhausted.

yet to your shock, it was yoosung.

you could’ve sworn he told you earlier that he had to study this hour.

quickly composing yourself the best you could, you answered to be greeted with a whined hi.

“hi yoosung” you responded, thinking you had masked your tired state well enough.

but you had always been a poor actor after all.

he paused, before asking “are you okay?”

in this state, you couldn’t be bothered to lie to him, getting into some kind of debate over your wellbeing.

“i’m just... exhausted. my entire body is aching” you admitted.

hearing a small sigh through the other end of the phone, you were about say your goodbyes for the night before he responded, “how come princess”.

his tone matched your upset one, yet with a hint of sympathy added on.

you sighed, responding “i’ve had an exhausting day, it’s taken a tole on me”.

he had to stop, thinking of the best ways to comfort you.

after a few seconds of no response, you continued “sorry yoosung, but i just want to rest right now”.

quickly, he snapped out of his thought process, not realizing the silence he had been giving you.

“that’s alright, please sleep well” he said, before hearing the sound of you hanging up the phone.

once you had come to your senses the following day, you noticed something was off.

french toast wasn’t something that spread in the air often in your apartment.

yet your suspicions were cut short as yoosung came around the corner, noticing your awakened state.

shocked, you began to sit up before being pushed back down, completely caught off guard.

“no work for you today lady, you just rest” he said, before running back out to the kitchen, bringing back a plate of french toast seconds later.

you couldn’t help but smile, yet a question popped up in your mind.

“wait, how am i going to eat this if i can’t sit up” you asked.

“easy, i’ll feed you”, problem solved.

hyun ryu / zen:

boarding the bus with zen, the first thing that caught your attention was the sheer compacity inside.

you two were only planning to take the bus 10 minutes to a new cafe that opened in town.

it was the perfect day to do so.

you and zen had off work, the weather was great, and it wasn’t predicted to be busy.

taking hold of the first railing you could find, keeping zen’s hand in your grip, you couldn’t help but to start getting overwhelmed.

there were so many people looking at you as you got on, and now you were stuck between a bunch of strangers looking you up and down with nothing else to do.

you felt your stomach start to turn, you knew this feeling well.

if you didn’t get off soon, you’d be sick and start crying with everything going on.

8 minutes in, you couldn’t take it anymore.

you had tried to get through by zoning out and thinking about other things, yet nothing was in your favour.

you were terrified, and now physically ill.

mentally preparing yourself, you pulled the string, your hand cutting between two heads of people you’d never seen before.

who knows if they were judging you?

that thought didn’t help a thing.

the bus came to a stop within the next few seconds, and you pulled zen’s hand tightly, practically pulling him off the bus.

“babe, we get off up there” he said, pointing north as the bus had taken off again.

you couldn’t handle a conversation with him right now, you needed to find a washroom.

taking notice of a camp-like washroom set up alongside the park a few steps away, you rushed off.

zen chased you in shock, attempting to grab a hold of your arm, to which you flicked him off of several times before reaching the area.

now he was stuck, not being able to go farther once you dashed into the ladies room.

he stood in a ball of confusion and worry.

you hadn’t acted like this before.

while inside the washroom, you locked yourself in the stall to the back, attempting to collect yourself.

once you came to the realization that your strategy wasn’t working, you just let it all out.

you felt like shit.

god, you had ruined the entire day with zen, embarrassed the two of you, and now you had made yourself physically sick.

you stayed in there for 15 minutes, simply balling your eyes out before deciding to go out and talk to him.

seeing you emerge from the washroom door, he took the best approach he imagined, pulling you into a tight hug as his eyes came across your redden face.

“i’m sorry” you muttered out, your face pressed against his chest.

quickly, he responds “it’s okay jagi, please tell me why you’re so upset”, comforting you with the tone of his voice, making you ease up a touch.

“i, there were so many people on the bus. i got sick, i was so anxious” you let out.

you knew how accepting your boyfriend was, which was why you weren’t shocked by the comforting words he spoke next.

“shhh, i get it, don’t cry”, pulling back a bit to clear the hair from your face.

he continued, saying “do you need anything? some medicine, drink?”

you shook your head, saying “no, i just need to calm myself down for a bit”.

“of course” he said, holding you until you said you were okay again not too long after.

jaehee kang:

“ugh” you let out, walking past jaehee with a throbbing pain in your head.

the cafe was making you unbelievably stressed, it was nothing like you’d ever experienced.

stress was a major downside to your cafes growing popularity, though you didn’t expect it.

little to your knowledge, jaehee heard ur groan, getting away from the counter for a spilt second.

“hm?” she said, before continuing “are you okay mc?”

“i just...” you paused, thinking of your next words.

you didn’t want to lie to her, but you didn’t want to make her worried on top of the already stressful situation.

“my head just hurts” you said, hoping to pass it off as a simple headache.

“are you alright? when did it start?” she asked, concern lacing her tone.

these pains were nothing new to you, but they got worse each and every time.

you had no energy to lie at this point, you were already done in by the day.

“the stress is getting to me, my head always aches when these things happen” you answered.

you could see her facial expression pause, as if she was deep in thought.

yet the expression changed within the minute as she responded “please go home, take the day off”.

you were blown away.

of course you didn’t want to leave jaehee alone, but you knew you couldn’t carry on like this for long.

you quickly argued “i can’t do that, you’ll be left with the stress alone”.

she gave a small smile, glancing at the clock, before responding “thank you for worrying, but i’ll be alright. there’s only an hour before closing and i can tell how bad this is effecting you”.

hence why with hesitation, you took her up on the offer.

you gathered your stuff up to leave, and went on autopilot, waking up the next day covered in warm blankets.

you couldn’t remember a thing after leaving, but you could feel how calm your body became with a bit of stress relief.

and you made sure to give jaehee your biggest thanks the next day.

jumin han:

you had started your new business over the summer.

and being the wife of c&r’s chariman-to-be, naturally people were intrigued.

many were incredibly supportive, although the occasional rumours surfaced from time to time.

crazy ideas you wouldn’t have been able to think of yourself.

suddenly you were the daughter of a president aboard, you and jumin weren’t actually married, and you only used jumin to fund and grow your business.

all completely foolish, never lasting more than a week.

however, this time around was different.

you had woken up to articles suggesting you were having an affair on your husband with your father in law, and that you had been using company profit for your own benefit.

how they came to these conclusions was beyond you, but you let it slide for now thinking it would only last a few days.

certainly nobody would believe this, there was no evidence brought forward and nothing you did had ever hinted towards these claims.

but that wasn’t the case this time.

one week went by and nothing changed.

two weeks went by and you noticed that the rumours had only increased and more was being added to the story.

now three weeks had passed, and things were only getting worse.

you had started getting emails about the rumours and sponsors had started pulling out to stay safe.

not only was it getting to you in a business sense, but your body had become ridden with stress and anxiety.

you woke up everyday in an upset mood, the first thing you noticed after coming to your senses was the back throughout your entire body.

though today it was focused in your abdomen.

this morning was no different from the previous few.

except jumin had stayed home from work for elizabeth the thirds yearly checkup.

he was the overreactive father to his cat daughter.

when he returned home with the news of elizabeths pristine health, he was met with your sleeping figure.

it was something out of the ordinary as you were usually awake at 6am.

yet it was 10am and he was standing beside your sleeping state.

remembering you had work, he shook you with ease to wake you up.

watching as you slowly opened your eyes, and within a snap you jumped up from the position you were lying in.

“what time is it?” you asked your husband frantically.

his eyes widen, slowly answered “it’s 10am, are you alright love?”

you wanted to cry.

you had woken up earlier at your usual time to an upset stomach, took some medication to ease your nerves, and laid down on your phone for a bit.

falling asleep wasn’t the plan.

“i didn’t mean to fall asleep, i need to-” you said, finding yourself in sobs midway through.

you couldn’t continue.

the tears fell uncontrollably, all the stress and worries coming out.

and jumin was at a loss for words.

yet he went to embrace you, calming you down through little words of endearment.

when you were finally calm enough to communicate, he asked “what’s going on?”

you let it all out, though you wanted to hide it from him earlier, you were desperate for things to subside at this point.

“there are all these rumours that have been going around for weeks, stuff about me getting with your father, using profit for myself, and using your entire family for exposure.”

you inhaled, being continuing “i thought they would end, but they keep going on and now it’s effecting my business. i just want it to stop”.

you stopped yourself from breaking down again, quickly composing yourself.

jumin paused, unsure of what to say.

hearing your sobs shattered his heart.

there were so many questions he needed answered, where would he even begin.

thinking for a bit, he asked “why didn’t you tell me earlier? it pains me to see you in tears”.

looking up to meet his eyes, you answered “i didn’t want you to worry”.

you knew it wasn’t an excuse he’d take seriously, but you were honest.

“your wellbeing comes before me, do not worry about my state”.

he had told you that since the day you became a couple.

adding onto that, he said “you’re staying home today. get some rest and i’ll take care of everything”.

you couldn’t argue, and part of you felt relieved getting it off your shoulders.

doing as he asked, you fell asleep again, napping like a baby.

you woke up again sometime around noon, immediately looking through your phone.

a new article caught your eye.

“Chairman Han denies all rumours involving MC and the upcoming business” it read.

you knew it wasn’t over yet, but you found comfort in the fact that it was finally thrown out of the water.

and within the next few days, you noticed your mood return to normalcy along with your body.

the stomach aches, headaches, and back pain disappeared.

you had learned your lesson, and didn’t hide your worries from then on.

saeyoung choi:

you dragged saeyoung out of the house for the night.

being the hard task that it was, you were understandably tired.

but you wouldn’t let that stop the night in front of you from being a success.

you had planned a special date to the movies in celebration of your birthday.

it was a movie you had wanted to see since it came out a year prior.

you were expecting to leave in a scared state of mind due to the movies horror nature.

what you weren’t expecting was the compacity of the movie theatre.

you wouldn’t be quick to admit it, but the sheer look of things frightened you.

it shouldn’t have been that hard to sit down and stare at a screen.

but all your attention was taken off of the movie, now directed at the people around you.

were they looking at you funny?

did you have something on your face?

were they judging you?

these questions wouldn’t leave your mind.

though you made multiple internal attempts to stop it, they just kept coming.

eventually it got too much, the nerves overwhelmed you, and you felt your stomach become physically ill.

you were gonna be sick, you thought.

turning to whisper to saeyoung, excusing yourself from the movie, you left to the washroom.

there were people in the ladies room as well, but they eventually left one by one.

you hung your head over the toilet seat, just waiting for your body to give in.

it was probably best to hide out in the stall for the remainder of the movie, you figured.

and that you tried to do, until saeyoung became suspicious and started looking for you 20 minutes later.

after searching the halls, the only reasonable conclusion left was that you were in the washroom.

he became worried that you were ill and needed help.

hence why he stood outside the door, yelling your name inside.

it caught you off guard, you weren’t ready to face him yet and have an excuse prepared.

though you didn’t have long to stay in your thoughts for long once he yelled your name out again.

leaving your safe area for the foreseeable future, you hesitantly went outside.

the red lining your eyes and your skin beginning to pale was the first thing that came to his attention as you met him outside.

“are you alright?” he asked, his voice full of fright.

“my stomach hurts” you answered, while not technically lying.

you didn’t want to come across as ruining the night by your own fear.

“i’m sorry” you let out, the guilt getting to you.

he hugged you, saying “don’t apologize, please, we’ll go home”.

he didn‘t know exactly why you became sick, but he knew better than to keep you in public while being so sick.

once you arrived home, he asked “did you catch something?” caressing your leg as you sat beside him in the parked car.

“umm” you thought for a second, “i think so”.

he looked you dead in the eye, a full minute passing by, before responding “you’re not a very good liar”.

you looked at him in confusion, trying to pass your lie off as reality.

“please, tell me the truth” he pleaded.

now you were hurting him, you thought.

your lies were too see-through to continue with this, hence why you fessed up.

“my anxiety got the best of me, there were too many people there, it made me sick” you confessed.

you felt the comfort of a hand on your shoulder within a second, feeling shitty for ending your date early.

“i understand” he said, continuing “we can have an even better night at home instead”.

you smiled, glad to see him okay with the current situation.

“of course, thank you” you said.

the rest of the night was full of sweets and cuddles, watching a fluffy drama on the tv.

you fell asleep on the couch together, awoken by saeran the next morning wanting to sit down within saeyoungs foot in his lap.

---

20:00 AST - 09/06/21

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kettlemouse · 2 years

Text

Protection

Mafia Family vs Toxic Principal

I saw this screenshot on Pinterest and couldn't help not writing it. This is a reader insert.

Warning: the following contains, toxic behavior, and description of anxiety.

Reader's discretion is advised.

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

Each footstep increased tension in your body, attempting to curl in yourself with anxiety chipping away at the back of your mind. Even the ticking of the clock (what was once considered comforting white noise) sounded more nerve wracking than ever. Your fingers squeezed around your phone nervously with each tick.

Only the aching of your scalp kept the looming nervous breakdown at bay, skull throbbing in a fast approaching headache. Your body's reaction to having your hair pulled you supposed. But as time went on, a bruising twinge became apparent on your jaw and neck.

With this increasing pain and the burning stares you received from both the nearly unscathed student, Gabe, sitting beside you and the Principal, Ms. Lawrence, situated in front of you, the ability to keep tears at bay vanished.

You didn't feel safe with either of the two. Your stomach twisted unpleasantly as you imagined what Ms. Lawrence might do after this exchange. Ruin your grades? She'd done it before.

Increase homework? Nothing new.

Ruin your school record for college? You honestly would be surprised if she hadn't done that already.

The rapping on the wooden door pulled a flinch from you.

"Come in." A friendly tone masked the smugness that previously occupied Ms. Lawrence's expression.

There was the sound of the door opening, the steady clicking of heeled shoes followed by a firm but comforting hand being placed upon the crown of your head. The touch soothed the sting in your scalp as the familiar scent of your father's cologne drowned out all your worries, his voice rumbling in his chest before he spoke,

"I would like to know why my child is distressed and why myself and Dolores have been called from work."

After said statement, another figure took a step closer behind you, a manicured hand placed comfortably on your shoulder, a reassuring squeeze giving you the courage to look at the two behind you.

Your father, still looking the same as the day he first found you in that alley box. His brown hair decorated with strands of silver was combed back, piercing orbs remained locked on the principal, seemingly willing the fool to disappear. Despite having shaved before work this morning, his five o'clock shadow was beginning to appear. He was wearing that familiar suit he'd wear when he meant business.

But with the aware feeling of being watched, you looked over to Dolores, your beautiful aunt. Her hair matched your father's in colour, minus the streaks of grey. She wore the usual makeup, mascara and red lipstick, as well as her beautiful strapless dress. Her eyes instead had a deep brown to them, seemingly almost black, only the sun showing their hidden beauty. Something that further pushed away any fear, her soft gaze silently telling you that they had everything under control.

And you knew better than to question her judgement, after all, she was the one who would willingly do your father's dirty work.

"Isn't that right Y/n."

You jumped at the sound of your name, looking back at Ms. Lawrence. You withheld a shiver of discomfort when she threw a sickly sweet smile.

"Wha... what..." You barely managed to squeak out, having not understood what you were being asked.

She opened her mouth once again, no doubt to reprimand you for your "incompetence" when your father maneuvered around your seat, kneeling down so that his patient eyes locked with yours,

"Y/n, I need you to tell me your side of the story. What happened?"

You recollected on what happened prior to this moment. You simply wanted to continue with your lunch when Gabe, who happens to be the principal's child, was getting aggressive, insulting your family without any rhyme or reason. You simply pushed him away as he was getting in your face, resulting in him snapping, grabbing you by your hair and slamming you into the lockers, wrapping his hands around your throat and squeezed. Ms. Lawrence walked in as you push her son to the floor, away from you.

"That's bullshit, I didn't do any of that. C'mon Mom, just expel the kid and let's go."

"I caught Y/n in the act of assaulting Gabe, they've has always been a trouble maker. I'm afraid that expulsion might be the solution—"

Dolores slapped her hand against the wooden desk, watching the principal like a hawk, "Tell us, at what point did you think that you can lie to us? Y/n is the most injured out of the two, scared shitless, tells a fully detailed story of what happened, and you take you son's side when all he says is "that's not true"?"

You're father clears his throat, pulling out his phone and briefly texting someone before looking your principal in the eye with violent intent, keeping his gaze on her as he addresses you,

"I want you to go with Dolores and head back home, The boys and I have some unfinished business here."

With a nod of relief, you almost jumped out of the chair, following your aunt briskly. An uneven echo of footsteps echoed in the halls as familiar men of different age walked towards the office.

Your teeth gleamed as a smile sprouted on your face, their friendly greetings as you passed was certainly reassuring.

You love your family.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Reblogs are appreciated <3

#writing #reader insert #writing prompt #toxic environment #school bully #mafia #mafia family #ocs?#pinterest #found family?

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strangehorticulturist · 3 years

Text

just some thoughts about izuku and bakugou and the fandom

TW: bullying/abuse, mentions of sui and self harm, trauma

I made a similar post to this a couple of days ago, but I wanted to say more on the topic, and I wanted to do it without purposefully trying to avoid my post being seen by other fans.

Before I say anything, I want to clarify what this post is NOT about: an/ti or an/tian/ti discourse, shipping wars, or even ships, honestly. I will touch on bak/ude/ku, obviously, but mostly to talk about the trend I see in the fandom, not to speak on the ship itself. So, if you're reading this, please don't turn this post into that. Those are valid conversations to have to be sure, but I want to have a different conversation here.

Like the content warnings suggest, this is about bullying. And this is about abuse. If anyone is reading this, I have little doubt that you are highly likely to have been bullied in your lifetime, since 1 in 3 children (in the US) report being bullied. Because bullying is such a prevalent phenomenon, it's oftentimes seen as almost a rite of passage, something difficult but ultimately survivable that everyone goes through, and so it doesn't need to be worried about.

In recent years, there have been a lot of efforts to systematically end peer-on-peer abuse, primarily because of how many suicides were related to it. Still, there are undoubtedly people who question the severity of bullying and oftentimes only think it's truly harmful if it involves physical abuse.

To speak personally for a second here, I remember, in high school, having to write a paper on whether I thought the rising number of suicides in relation to bullying was due to bullying becoming increasingly worse or if it was due to people being more sensitive. It was kind of bizarre, as someone who was bullied throughout pretty much my entire academic career by various people, to have to almost defend myself and other bullying victims - to have to say No we are not more "sensitive" (which honestly is pretty much a euphemism for "weak" in this case), it's just that bullying fucking sucks and now, with cyberbullying, it doesn't even end when you're outside of school.

Anyway, I say all this to say that bullying, despite its proven fatality, isn't always taken very seriously. But I'll say it here, plain as day, for anyone who needs to hear it: bullying is abuse. Izuku was abused by Bakugo from age 4 to age 14. A literal decade of abuse. What do you think that does to a person? Looking at the statistics as well as drawing from first-hand experience (which I'm sure a lot of you would be able to validate), there's an increased risk of social anxiety, depression, somatic symptoms (like stomach aches, headaches, sleeping difficulties, etc.), self harm, and suicidality.

Though some may view bullying as harmless or not on par with other types of abuse, it actually can be more impactful than receiving abuse by adults as a child. Regardless of how people see bullying, the effects are detrimental and they stay with you for years.

But, to bring it back to the point of this post, I want to talk about how it affected Izuku specifically. What I love about BNHA is how clear Bakugo's effects on him are. From the very beginning, once Izuku inherits OFA, he is reckless. Limb after limb is broken, finger after finger. Though he would often get a lot of his injuries healed right away, it's important to note that each fracture is still unbelievably painful, and he willingly tosses himself into it anyway.

Of course, this is partially a product of the reality that he didn't know how to properly use OFA. I think, even if he hadn't been bullied, he most likely would've done the same thing. But, I think what's important to note is his mentality. While others would be at least somewhat concerned about their safety and would want to avoid the pain of fractures, Izuku's reason for learning how to properly use OFA is not for his own wellbeing but to give himself a fighting chance at being a better hero (after all, we have a limited amount of limbs). That and the fact that recovery girl wouldn't heal anymore of those self-inflicted injuries.

And this theme of sacrificing oneself for the benefit of others remains prevalent and is probably Izuku's fatal flaw. In his eyes, he lives to save and protect, to be useful, which I think is the essence of a hero. But, I think there's also a darker underbelly of this mindset: the idea that he is never the one to be saved, that others are meant to be protected and saved, not him. He helps others, he is not meant to be helped. And I think that that's... completely understandable. If you spend your formative years being demeaned, especially by someone you respect and had considered a friend, and never having anyone defend you, even teachers, it would be almost impossible not to think of yourself as worthless.

And that, I believe, is the core of Izuku's self-destruction, his self-harm (since sometimes self-harm isn't as overt as cutting). You break your bones, you jump into situations you have no chance of surviving on your own, you look up to the people who step on you, you work for the sake of others without tending to yourself, you sacrifice your happiness if it means that others are happy, and you do all of these things because it doesn't matter if you're hurt. You are worth nothing, you are below everyone else, and so it's okay if you're hurt as long as other people benefit from it. It's actually better that way.

I don't think Izuku is consciously hurting himself, but I think this lacking sense of self-worth is so ingrained in him that all of these harmful habits are second nature to him. They're such a natural part of his life that he doesn't even think to question it, while his friends, who have a clearer view of his tendency to throw himself into things without regard for himself, are watching him breakdown and spiral.

Everyone but Izuku realizes how messed up this all is, but no one realizes that Bakugo is largely to blame for this (of course, he wasn't the only bully, and those who let Izuku be bullied are also to blame, but let's not act like Bakugo wasn't his main abuser and the one leading everyone else to bully Izuku).

That said, this conversation is also not about whether Bakugo is redeemable (though, with the recent manga chapters, I guess he's already been redeemed?). I don't really care either way, to be honest, and this post is really more about Izuku than it is Bakugo.

What this conversation is about is how this portion of Izuku and Bakugo's relationship, despite it actually being the longest part of their relationship with no other part of their relationship (their time as childhood friends and their time as "rivals") even coming close. The more I see of the manga, I do think part of the problem is that the story itself kind of sweeps it under the rug, but I haven't read or watched everything, so I don't want to comment on that too much. But, I can at least say that it's a trend that's pretty prevalent in the fandom, especially among the fans who ship b/k/d/k or who are huge Bakugo fans. Certainly, not everyone in these groups do that, but... it's a Lot.

I'm not joking when I say that I've seen posts defending Bakugo, saying that bullying isn't as bad as abuse (when in fact, bullying itself is abuse), that he isn't actually a bully, that Izuku brought it on himself in some way, that it's fine now because Bakugo apologized, etc. The most I've seen b/k/d/k fans acknowledge Bakugo's bullying was when talking about how he apologized, using that as a sort of "gotcha" to an/tis.

I think that, with how the abuse has gone on to directly contribute to Izuku's insecurities and his fatal flaw of sacrificing himself, it really needs to be acknowledged more and treated with the appropriate seriousness. Izuku is traumatized by his youth spent with Bakugo, so how can you skim past that? When talking about Izuku and Bakugo's relationship, whether you're addressing them as friends, rivals, or lovers, why would you leave out literally 71% of their time together? When talking about Bakugo, why would you push aside and make light of the fact that he was a bully when he spent (also literally) 58% of his life up to this point as a bully and abuser.

To be clear, this isn't to say that people who like Bakugo are bad, and I hope that's incredibly obvious. What I'm saying is that bullying is such a formative part of both of Izuku and Bakugo's lives, and it's skimmed over for convenience. Or, if not completely skimmed over, it's thrown around lightly. It's mind boggling to me because it really is the most prevalent part of their relationship, and the conversation around their interactions isn't complete if you leave out something that essential.

TL;DR: I wish the fandom (and the series itself) would stop skimming over the fact that Izuku was traumatized and abused for over a decade by Bakugo because that has had a huge impact on both of their character development, but especially Izuku's.

Oh, and here are my sources concerning bullying if you want them: Link 1, Link 2

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #izuku midoriya #deku #bakugo katsuki #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #spoilers for the manga not the anime

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

Note

ayy for the bingo prompts!! Possibly O5 for Jon? :)

Of course!

O5: Trapped in a small space with a fever

Am I going with a trapped in the elevator route? Why yes. Yes, I am.

When the old elevator jerks and rattles to a creaking stop, with the small, dim light flickering overhead, Jon stares, for an extended moment, at the doors as if willing them to tremble and slide open under a narrow, albeit tired, gaze.

Unsurprising, the power of his sharp look does nothing for dated machinery, and he only drags his gaze away when a voice crackles from the small speaker underneath the floor buttons.

“Hello. The elevator is stuck.”

“So it seems,” Jon draws out slowly, annoyingly jabbing at his own call button. He wants to tack on more- that he’ll be late for work, that he’s incredibly busy, and, though he’s not quite desperate to mention, that he’s working around a splitting headache that spreads fire across his face.

“We’re notifying maintenance, but I’m afraid it may be a while.”

Of course, Jon thinks, shoulders sagging. Easy would be the doors sliding open in just minutes, but he can’t recall a single moment in his life that was easy. His being is surrounded with difficulties of varying sizes, and this is yet another to pen into the books.

“Anything we can do for you in the meantime, sir?”

Jon slips his phone from his pocket, once again unsurprised to see a small, red X covering his signal bar. “Phone my work,” he starts, voice cracking slightly, throat stinging more than the night before. “The Magnus Institute. Let them know of my... situation.”

He tunes out the quick chatter that follows, instead sinking to the ground and drawing his knees up to his chest. The elevator’s small, its size fitting for the older apartment building. It’s already too warm, if the heat rolling from his face is any indication. His skin’s practically prickling across the ecompassing heat, and he fumbles out of his cardigan until he’s left tugging on his shirt collar and wondering how to tell when he’s fully suffocating under the pressing heat.

***

“Martin.”

Martin jumps, a small squeak clawing up his throat. He whips around mid-conversation with Tim to see Elias slowly dissecting him through gaze alone.

“Y-yes, sir?” He stutters, swallowing thickly around the lump forming in his throat. His eyes find the floor, a nervous habit, an inability to hold eye contact when backed into a situation such as this.

“It would appear our archivist is... trapped in an elevator in his apartment building. I need you to go and encourage the maintenance crew to work significantly faster as there’s much work to be done.”

Tim chokes back a laugh, masking his amusement through a few fake coughs into his fist. He peers around Martin, arching a single brow.

“Mind if I join him, boss? Do a whole good cop, bad cop routine?”

A flicker of annoyance tugs at Elias’s lips, threatening to give way to a tight frown, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Just make it quick, and do not come back here without my archivist.”

***

Jon can’t recall when he started shivering, when the heat heightened and gathered across his face, leaving the rest of his body uncomfortably chilly, but he can’t seem to stop. He wrestles with his cardigan, pulling it back on through jerky movements, and he tugs it tightly around himself, making himself impossibly small and tight in an already small and tight space.

His awareness is fading in and out. He know he hasn’t been in the elevator long. He also knows that he doesn’t feel well at all. His jaw hurts from the persistent chatter of his teeth, and his bones ache in a way that vastly differs from too many hours hunched over at his desk. He doesn’t trust his voice as it feels raw in a way that’s unlike the sensation of speaking into a tape recorder for hours.

Where his awareness lacks is why. Sure he’s familiar with running himself ragged, as Tim and Sasha point out to him far too often, but this feels different. Yet, he can’t concentrate as to why it’s different because his head is a jackhammer that won’t ease.

He drops his forehead atop his bent knees, hissing around the aggravating chill that won’t let up, and he drifts.

***

“Want to bet on how many of these poor blokes he’s yelled at so far?” Tim smiles easily, eyeing the various maintenance crew members who are all working quietly and quickly at the elevator.

“No, Tim, I don’t want to bet on something like that,” Martin groans, frowning, a look that’s plastered itself to his lips and hasn’t let up since leaving the Institute. “Let’s just... let’s ask someone what’s going on.”

When Tim doesn’t reply, Martin turns, brows furrowed, to see that Tim’s wandered off to chat with a woman barking orders right in front of the elevator doors. Shaking his head with a low huff, he quickly walks over to them, catching the two mid-conversation.

“-about an hour now, I suppose. He’s been awfully quiet.”

“Quiet,” Tim spits out, brows raising. “You mean he hasn’t been raising hell this entire time?”

“No,” the woman’s tone drifts as she brings her gaze down to the iPad in her hands. She taps a few buttons until a grainy camera feed fills the screen, showing Jon curled up in a corner.

“Yikes,” Tim mutters under his breath, motioning for Martin to take a look. “He looks rough.”

“He’s been sleeping on and off. He appears quite uncomfortable, though given the circumstance...”

“Can we speak to him?” Martin interrupts, and Tim pulls a sharp gaze to the unfamiliar color coating Martin’s tone, a dark, serious color he’s not used to hearing.

“Martin?”

“Something seems wrong,” Martin elborates. His gut’s twisted with a new presence of anxiety that he couldn’t ignore even if he willingly tried. Jon should be raising hell, a passive, dangerously softspoken hell, and yet... he’s morphed himself into a tight, seemingly unresponsive ball, and that, to Martin, is just all levels of wrong.

“Sure,” the woman motions to the small, worn speaker under the floor buttons on the wall. “Go ahead and take the camera. He’s only been responding to us via shaking or nodding his head as of thirty minutes ago.”

Martin shuffles to the speaker, thumb ghosting over the call button. He spares a glance over his shoulder, meeting Tim’s eyes, sharing a silent, brief conversation, and then he presses the button.

***

“Jon?”

Jon’s dreaming, he decides, the familair voice a distant echo that’s just too far.

“Jon? Can you hear me?”

Frowning, Jon rolls his head toward the voice. It sounds closer yet oddly unattainable.

"Wake up, Jon.”

It’s the last thing Jon wants to do by any means, yet he cracks his eyes open into small slits, opening them wider when he hears a sigh followed by a different voice breathing out a “thank god” from the speaker.

“Jon, it’s Martin and Tim. We’re just outside. How are you doing?”

Jon considers that he should move to press the button next to the speaker so he can tell Martin that he feels dreadful, but his body feels like lead, and he’s sure his legs won’t be able to support him if he tries. He opts, instead, to shake his head with a wince, and he coughs weakly, frowning at the new development.

“Jon, what’s wrong? Can you stand?”

There’s panic in Martin’s voice, his tone far too quick and a tad usteady. Jon shakes his head again and crosses his arms, fingers digging bruises into his skin.

“Are you hurt?”

Martin’s shouting now, alarmed, and Jon winces at the loud crackle that mixes in with his voice. He shakes his head again and points to his forehead, hoping the unspecific gestures will speak what he physically cannot.

“What- Tim, what’re you doing?”

“Boss, does your head hurt?”

Sighing deeply, Jon nods.

“How about the rest of you? Feeling too hot and too cold?”

Frowning, Jon drags a slow gaze around the elevator until he spots the small camera in the corner. He stares at it, brows furrowed, and he nods slowly, noting the sharp hiss and muffled arguing from the speaker.

“Tim, what? How do you-”

“He’s most likely got the flu. It’s been going around the office. I had it a few weeks ago myself, and it’s miserable. I doubt he’s slept properly last night, and who knows when’s the last time he’s had a sip of water. I’m going to move this along.”

Jon’s stomach twists uncomfortably at Tim’s words. He wants to argue; he wants to assure the two that he’s not been stricken with something as mundane as the flu and that he’s perfectly fit to go to work as soon as someone gets him out of this damn box. Yet, he can’t find an ounce of physical energy to feed his wants. He can only curl further into himself, dropping his head back atop his knees, and he’s already drifting once more.

“Just hang on, Jon. We’ll get you out.”

***

It’s another two hours before the elevator rumbles back to life. Jon’s asleep when it happens, but he wakes to two sets of hands hovering over him, crowding him, feeling his forehead, mouths moving far too fast yet too slow to beat around the ringing in his ears.

“-burning up.”

“Yeah, he’s completely out of it. Boss? Jon, you with us?”

Something cold is suddenly being pressed to Jon’s lips, and he welcomes it, his throat bobbing against the cold water. He reaches up to wrap shaking, greedy fingers around the bottle. He takes in big swallows until his lungs quake with a need to cough, and then he sputters around some water and coughs harshly into his fist.

“-shouldn’t go to work like this. I’ll call Elias.”

“Okay, I’m going to take him back up to his flat. Get a read on the fever.”

“Sure. I’ll meet you up there.”

Jon’s suddenly being pulled to his feet, and he moves with the steady grip on his arm. His legs immediately begin to cramp and tremble, and he sways, eyes glassy, unfocused, but then someone’s wrapping an even steadier arm around his waist, and the person is grounded, warm. Jon drops his head to the crook of the person’s neck, shivering, exhausted.

“It’s alright, Jon. We’re here.”

Martin. Jon hums lowly, pressing himself impossibly close to Martin, leeching Martin’s warmth. He can feel the elevator moving around them just as much as he can feel the worried side gaze on him. “I don’t feel well,” he admits, half-faded.

“I know, but we’re going to take care of you.”

Martin’s voice, like his arm, is steady, even, and Jon nods against Martin’s neck. For once, he allows himself to abandon control and place his trust into someone else’s hands, clutching onto the knowledge that Martin and Tim are here and that Martin and Tim will help him.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #sickfic #whump #whumpfic #martin blackwood #tim stoker #jonmartin #jonmartim #tma s1 dynamics #the archivist #elias bouchard

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (No TW this chapter, but keep in mind the grander story involves major character injury)

Words: 6.7K~

Summary: The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

Chapter Summary: Aftermath.

This is officially the longest complete SU fic I’ve finished. I’m so proud ;w;

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. Thank you! <3

_____

Chapter 4: The Remembrance

His mind is shrouded by darkness for long enough that in the split instant the curtains finally part, for just a momentary shard of infinity, the mere idea of any world beyond the pitch-black he’s become so accustomed to seems like a farce.

Resultantly, his journey to consciousness is about as labored and exhausting as a backpacking trip across the Great North in the dead of winter.

He’s greeted by flashes of white, first— intermittent, dim. They splash across his inky sky in unreliable patterns, little bursts of static gearing up to pull him out of this all-consuming nothingness and back to reality. Next, a heartbeat. Steady and sure, such a relief to experience that his throat can’t help but constrict in a wave of all-encompassing emotion. (Why is he so relieved to feel something this normal?) Lying somewhere intangibly beyond his awareness, he can hear... water? Waves, he immediately corrects himself. The aching familiarity of waves crashing upon the shore, a sound he’s shared his front yard with for almost his whole life. Elsewhere, the faint scent of herbs and simmering broth delicately pulls on his consciousness, burning through tangled threads of disorientation and confusion and beckoning him awake.

Steven’s eyelids flutter open, thin lines of light streaming through the gaps between his eyelashes.

The moment he does however, the stark actuality of his situation slams into him with a vengeance. His head throbs as memories begin to re-establish themselves like individual puzzle pieces locking into place.

I was— Dad, and Amethyst... the fountain... empty, and then Pearl had to....

His heart’s pace snaps into overdrive in seconds. Thrashing under his blankets, he manages to kick his arms and torso free so he can rush to sit up. Dizziness assails him as he yanks up the bottom of his pajamas and splays his hand across the smooth, warm surface of that diamond at his core, feeling for cracks, for chips, for—

Huh. Imagine that.

Steven inhales deep as he attempts to balance out the pace of his breath, blood still pounding in his ears as he delicately traces a shaking index finger around the edge of the central pentagonal facet of his gem, entirely unblemished and whole. There’s no sign of damage, no thin stress fractures left behind. No evidence that it was ever cracked at all, really. For an excruciatingly lengthy moment his brow creases inwards in confusion as he wonders if all this agony was nothing but a stress-induced nightmare. But then again...

He groans, pressing his fingers to one of his throbbing temples as the ambient pain hits him.

Oh stars, everything aches. His head, his limbs, his spine, every square inch of his body feels like he’s been pressed through a meat grinder and ruthlessly spat out on the other side. If that’s not proof that what happened on his mission with Amethyst was real, then he doesn’t know what is. Drowsily, he flops back against his pillow and squeezes his eyelids shut, stubbornly yearning for the comfort and familiarity of sleep-induced unconsciousness. Maybe, just maybe... he can sleep these aches away.

Time passes far too unreliably as he’s laying motionless there, struggling against a hyperactive flood of thoughts to return to his earlier state of rest. Has he been awake for a minute? Half an hour? He has no idea. The only concrete thing he can glean is that he definitely has a headache right now. Maybe even a migraine. He’s still not sure what the difference between those is supposed to be. Is it a ‘squares are rectangles, but rectangles aren’t squares’ sort of scenario? Or are they synonyms? Hmm. Maybe he should ask Dad, he’d probably know. In fact, where is Dad? And how’d he end up in bed in his pajamas, anyways?

He’s honestly relieved when he hears the unmistakable sound of Pearl’s light, precise footsteps climbing the stairs to his room, if only that it gives him a solid excuse to face reality and stop deluding himself with the tragic, unobtainable lie that is peaceful slumber. He lets his eyes flutter open again.

“Hi, Pearl,” he mumbles when she reaches the top step.

She’s carrying a small dinner tray with a steaming bowl of something delicious smelling (the broth he recognized earlier?) and a glass of water perched atop. Meeting his half-alert gaze, her expression lights up with a glow of pleasant surprise.

“Oh, good, you’re up!” she says, a great deal of the stress locked in her shoulders melting away as she crosses the room towards his bedside. “I was just about to wake you myself, if you weren’t already.”

Rubbing away the exhaustion crusted at the corners of his eyes with the joint at the base of his thumb, he watches as Pearl carefully places the tray on the nightstand at his right. With a groan, he bows upwards under his covers, the vertebrae in his back popping and sighing all the while as he stretches. Goodness, he’s not sure his spine has ever felt so stiff and tight. Remind him to never accidentally get hurled against a tree in combat again.

“How... how long was I out?” he asks then, the workaholic part of him already fearing her answer.

Pearl glances towards the ceiling, her brow creasing as she makes the calculation in her head.

“Hmm, I think... around seven hours?“

“What??” he cries, shooting upright in bed with the speed of a spring trap. “Seven hours?! That’s like, the whole day! I had plans!”

She frowns pensively, gesturing widely with her hands as she replies. “Steven, you were cracked and needed time to recover. A hit like that is bound to take a serious toll on any body, hard-light or not.”

His features morphing into a scowl, he slouches back against the wall. That’s a fair point, how disruptive cracks can be for full-Gems as well. It’s not just a matter of Pearl babying him. Even though they healed Amethyst’s fracture fairly quickly, years back, it still took her a few days of rest before she rose to the top of her game again. And as much as he’d love to deny it, right now his whole body honestly feels like it’s been hit head on by a truck at sixty miles per hour. It’s a dull but constant brand of pain he can’t claim he’s ever dealt with before all this mess. That month he shot up almost a foot in height back when he was 14 came close, but even that period of ache was more subtle than this.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says with a heavy sigh, threading his fingers together in his lap.

“Anyways,” she says gently, the reminder of her presence cutting through some of the layers of his pain-induced melancholy, “it’s 5:38 now, just in time for dinner! And I took the liberty of cooking a batch of your favorite soup.”

Unable to help himself, his inner child gasps in sheer joy. He sits up again, slamming his palms to his cheeks as he gushes with excitement. “Chicken and vegetable soup with the tiny star noodles??”

Any lingering crankiness about the percentage of the day wasted dissipates into a fine mist as Pearl picks the tray off the nightstand and passes it into his lap, confirming the identity of his homemade dinner. As he begins to eat— carefully, taking small spoonfuls at first to ensure that his stomach can handle it— his guardian sits at the edge of his bed and provides him updates on the rest of the family’s whereabouts. Apparently Garnet’s still halfway across the galaxy, but should be returning home tomorrow the moment she’s through with her mission. She sends her love, Pearl says. She also texted Connie to let her know what happened, and his friend plans to come over as soon as she can in the morning to spend time with him as he recovers. Meanwhile, Greg left a few minutes before he woke up to hit the store. He’s picking up some new food for the both of them, and intends to sleep downstairs on the couch the next few nights to keep tabs on him.

“He’s been really worried about you,” she admits, reaching out for his hand as if she too frets he might suddenly fade into the ether if she takes her eyes off him for one moment. “Before I told him to step out of the house for some mental rejuvenation, he never left your side.”

Steven responds to her tactile affection with a soft squeeze for her benefit, but quickly lets go to continue eating his soup.

“Well,” he says through a fresh spoonful of food, “‘m fine now, so...” Pause to swallow, the bump of his larynx bobbing in his throat. “So there’s no need to worry anymore.”

“Oh, if only it were that easy,” she comments, a melancholy smile framing her face.

With a sigh, she stands to her feet, smoothing out the edge of the covers where she once sat. Watching this small act, he suddenly wonders if her vast history with deeply troubling experiences like what she had to witness this morning are why she’s so emotionally drawn to tasks such as tidying and repairing; after all, these do allow her space to exert a small degree of control over areas of her life she might otherwise harbor concern or anxiety towards. Huh. He presses his lips into a tight line as he willfully contemplates this concept. Considering his earlier disappointment about how much daylight he’s wasted, (so many business and socialization meetings he’s missing in town today!), perhaps he inherited a portion of his own workaholic tendencies from emulating her throughout his childhood. He dares not follow this rabbit any further, however... dares not ask what he’s distracting himself from.

Another time, Universe.

Brimming with a renewed sense of purpose, Pearl crosses towards the narrow patio outside the open slider door, her features returning to their neutral, observant state.

“In any case,” she continues as she rests her palm flat against the glass, “please do enjoy the rest of your meal! I’m going to fetch Amethyst from the observatory. She’s been, um... how to say... on Diamond pacifying duty these past few hours, and I’m sure she‘s desperate for a break.”

He offers a sharp grimace in response to this sentiment, knowing from almost two years of firsthand experience that patiently keeping watch over those Gem monarchs is no easy task. “Youch, my condolences. Feel free to send her in, I’d love to see her.”

Pearl nods in confirmation, and then slips out the doorway towards the observatory’s ramp.

He enjoys what little is left of his soup as he waits. Thankfully, his system shows no signs of unrest, which allows him to finish the whole bowl. Good thing, too. He unfortunately recalls losing his breakfast earlier this morning amidst the blunt force of that spiked tail to his stomach, which means he’s had little to no food in him all day. Now, he’s no medical expert, (Connie would likely know the answer thanks to her mom, though), but surely that can’t be good for recovery.

Amidst his better wishes, his thoughts turn to all the social meetings and appointments he’d planned for today. He can’t imagine Pearl knew his itinerary well enough to contact each and every person he’d unintentionally blown off, so that means from all of their perspectives they waited and waited and he simply... never showed up. Like Mayor Nanefua. He was supposed to discuss logistics about Little Homeschool’s eventual opening with her at town hall immediately after the corrupted Gem mission. Peridot. He agreed to meet with her at one of the ancient drop ship sites to assist in de-arming it for safety purposes. Lars. Before all this happened, he was genuinely looking forward to hanging out with Lars and the rest of his Gem gang this afternoon. And because he was reckless and got himself cracked on what should’ve been the most straightforward mission of all time, he let them all down. He groans, slumping backwards until his head clunks against the wall. Ughhh. Stupid, stupid Steven. Now, where on earth’s his phone? He should probably start to clear up this mess.

Steven places his empty bowl on the tray on his nightstand, and begins dutifully searching the tabletop. Before his search can bear any fruit, however, Amethyst bursts into the room, toting one of the handheld diamond communication lines they store in the observatory. (Blessedly, this one comes without self-destruct functionality. Times have sure changed since the daring days when Peridot emphatically called Yellow Diamond a clod.)

“Hey, little man!” she chimes when they meet each other’s glance, her relieved smile admittedly rather infectious. “It’s great to see ya’ up and at ‘em again.”

He offers a bashful laugh, twirling his finger around a short curl at the nape of his neck. “Y-yeah, I’m—“

“Yo, what’s this here, though?” she interjects, bee-lining to his nightstand to stick her nose in his dinner tray. Her face falls the moment she sees inside the bowl, which he’s dutifully scraped empty. “Dude, come on, you didn’t leave any for me?”

“What? Nooo,” he says in mock protest, his voice wavering in laughter. “I already ate it.”

Amethysts reaches forward and gives him a solid noogie, ruffling his hair until its ends are all mussed. Even though his head still hurts he can’t help but giggle, playfully batting her arms away. Hah, typical quartz sibling affection. Gotta love it.

“Nah, I’m just goofin’!” she grins. “You’ve lost enough food today on the forest floor, so I wouldn’t be stealin’ any even if I could.”

“Thank you for that reminder,” he comments with an eye roll, lips pursed as he tries not to muse too hard about the uncomfortable burning sensation associated with that abhorrent experience, least he vomit all over again.

Meanwhile, Amethyst’s high spirits finally hit their crest and begin to break like the distant din of white water waves offshore as she nervously tussles with the crystal octahedron clasped in her palm.

“But, ah... ignoring all that, Blue D said she wanted to talk to you?”

She presses the diamond line into his possession with fettered urgency, the posture of her hands vocalizing an unspoken, underlying message of “oh stars, I’m going insane babysitting these ancient Gem monarchs, please take this from me NOW.” Or at least, that’s what he gleans from it. To be fair, his months of near-constant interaction with them may make him a little biased on the subject.

“Probably best not to keep her waiting. We can catch up later,” she says, giving his fingers a quick squeeze before pulling away.

And with that she hurtles down the stairs into the main living area, ditching him within this empty room with the equivalent of an intergalactic phone that dials direct to who he can only describe as his honorary Gem grandparents. Sure, so maybe most Gems don’t have “children” in the same manner humans do, and maybe the Diamonds themselves have no clear understanding of the classification of human familial relationships, (despite their somewhat touching attempts at learning a few details about Earth culture for his sake), but the quasi-parental role they played in his mother’s life is undeniable from his perspective. So is their “out-of-touch” nature, a common stereotype he sees played up for drama with fictional grandparents on TV shows all the time. He’s not sure how he feels yet that this stereotype rings so true with his own.

Regardless, if Blue wants to talk, then there’s no time like the present. As much as he dreads it, this conversation is bound to happen eventually, of course— and after all their concern, the diamonds more than deserve an update on his well-being. Steven swallows hard, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the crystal as he summons the courage to dial, desperately attempting to not let the sour notes of their last interaction tint the underlying sentiment of this one before it can even begin.

Eventually, he sucks in a deep breath and activates the communicator. The octahedron glows a soft blue, and after a few seconds’ time during which the signal is crossing to the far edge of the galaxy, projects a view screen above its upper point.

The image is fuzzy at first, but sharpens fast once Blue connects from her end. She immediately smiles as she looks upon him, elated emotion running so deep within her that for once, it even manages to reach her eyes.

“Steven! I’m so glad to see that you’re okay,” she begins in full earnesty, clasping her hands together in front of her gem.

He doesn’t respond at first, finding himself too distracted by the scenery, and by the radical juxtaposition of Blue’s current demeanor to her behavior last night. Given the glimpse of White’s empty throne behind her shoulder, he’s pretty sure she’s sitting alone in the ballroom, the sight of which can’t help but stir up unwanted memories of the brief argument they had right before he rushed off to visit home, b-because... oh stars, he was right there, standing right in her presence when she reflexively forced her tears on him.

She wanted to throw him a massive planet-wide ball honoring his sixteenth birthday, wanted to organize a whole coalition of Gems to set up the venues, the entertainment, the food, everything— and when he finally managed to squeeze a word in edgewise between all her unfettered excitement to inform her that he wished to spend his birthday celebrating with his family on Earth instead, she was inconsolable. Crying. Raising her voice. Blaming him of running away from her just like Pink did all those years ago. In the heat of the moment he believed he was simply standing up for himself and his preferences, but fast forward to the present and he can’t help but question the etiquette of his own response more and more as the cruel minutes tick onward. Did he do the right thing, or did he only cause her undue emotional harm? Will Blue Diamond accept his stance moving forward, or will she press the topic again? (After all, he knows her desire to tether him to Homeworld for his birthday is merely a symptom of her greater longing for him to live in the palace with them permanently.) And if she does, is he even allowed to express his opinions when he’s outright walking a tightrope every day he’s in the public eye, single-handedly balancing Gemkind’s delicate political situation in both hands as he slowly but surely advances towards the light on the other side? He must be careful. One wrong move, and everything he’s been working towards for the past year could topple, could cause a disastrous vacuum.

No matter the personal cost, isn’t it his duty as savior of the galaxy to ensure that doesn’t happen?

Gems are depending on him.

And as much as he wants to be selfish and dig his heels into the ground to ensure his own comfort for once in his life, he’s not sure that’s even an option anymore.

Steven grips onto the edge of his bedspread with his free hand, clamping his fingers in tight, reveling in the sensation of skin shifting against downy fabric. It’s just enough to tether him back to the present. To ensure he doesn’t lose himself in the riptides of bitter memory. But by the time his scattered awareness clues in on the fact that he’s probably remained silent for an overly awkward period of time, it’s much too late, and in due consequence, he mentally returns to the scene to find that Blue has kept on talking with or without his conscious attention.

Hah. Serves him right, honestly.

“—was just explaining the details of the disastrous mission you embarked on today,” she says, making small gestures in embellishment of her soft-spoken words, “when your Pearl entered to announce you were awake. I’ll let the others know as soon as I can.”

He swallows, his throat hopelessly dry, as dry as the fine granules of sand scattered across the upper shore on an intensely hot summer’s day.

“I, um—“ he manages, voice wavering. (And quite honestly, feeling stupid for it, in her presence. How many months has he spent perfecting his technique for confidently speaking with the diamonds, again?) He adjusts his hold on the octahedral crystal as he vies to regain some sense of inner balance for the rest of this conversation. “So Yellow and White know too, then?”

Blue leans upon one of the armrests of her throne, releasing a weary sigh. It’s only then that he begins to take note of the residual anxiety blanketed across her form— the almost bruise-like shadows under her eyes appearing deeper than usual, her normally flawless hair now frizzy and unkempt— and if he’s honest, he struggles to understand how he truly feels, knowing that the news of his injury could affect her in such a soul-striking manner. (He often wonders if it’s fair of him, interacting with them in such a detached business-like fashion when, despite their intermittent shortcomings and confusions, they’ve offered him nothing but love and adoration in return since the beginning of era 3.)

“Oh, they were the first to know. Yellow answered the initial call, and White, she was hosting a court session with some of the fusion Gems just next door. I—“ She presses the pad of her thumb to the center facet of her gemstone, pausing in her words a moment to take a sharp inhale. “I only learnt about what nearly happened to you a fragment of a rotation ago, upon my return to the palace.”

His brows furrow, suddenly realizing the fact that, beyond Blue, the throne room she sits in sounds desolate. Void of all Gems. “Where is everyone, anyways?”

“Distracting themselves, mostly. Last I heard, they’re busy trying to locate any of Pink’s essences that might still remain within our stores, just in case something like this should happen again. Of course I dread the very thought, but...”

Her voice wavers with just the hint of a sob, as she momentarily breaks from her explanation to regain her composure.

(Steven is ashamed to admit that he fails to mask the instinctual tightening of his shoulders as he sees fresh tears brim upon the digitized representation of her visage, even though logically he knows there’s no chance her influence could cross all these light years to weigh down on him here. Not on Earth. Not this far away.)

“...I couldn’t bear to lose another,” she manages, and— after dabbing those teardrops away with her curled fingers— glances back up to meet his gaze with those boundless, melancholy eyes. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, chest growing tighter at the untimely reminder of his mom’s passing, an inseparable facet of his life history he still hasn’t managed to process yet. Perhaps subconscious in nature, his free hand creeps its way under his shirt to rest protectively over his gem. “No one deserves to go through that pain again.”

“Y’know, that’s why I really do wish you’d consider our offer to permanently live with us on Homeworld, in the safety of the palace,” she mentions then, clasping her hands together as if this were a dawning, glorious new idea Steven’s never heard before. “After all, I’m sure none of this would’ve happened under the protection of the guard.”

“Uh, I don’t thi—“

“Can you imagine it, all four diamonds finally reunited under the same stars?” Blue continues, a wide smile passing gracefully across her lips as she waxes on about this indulgent dream of hers. “We could grow you an orchard, so you have as much food as you need, and your pebbles could make you whatever clothes or luxuries you desire. And of course, there’s still the matter of your annual birth celebration to attend to...”

Steven can’t help it. He can’t manage to stop himself, no matter how pathetic he knows his reaction is.

In the light of this topic’s re-emergence, he zones out again. He slips directly into the welcoming embrace of inattention and subconscious thought. His head’s pounding, the pulsing discomfort birthing a brand new species of ache right behind his eyes. It’s miserable, but no more miserable than the idea of the future Blue Diamond has been continuously pushing for the last few months. No more miserable than the idea of being trapped on a planet with individuals who — no matter how hard they try and change their habits for his sake in the present— have all deeply hurt him at various stages of his life. And sure, he knows this is a twisted, selfish sentiment for him to harbor, because of how Pink abandoned them in the past, because of how all three of them have worked so tirelessly these past months to reorganize their entire way of life: to actually see him as his own person instead of a shadow of his mom, to healthily process their own emotions instead of tearing others down, to openly invite fusions and off-colors into the light of society. They’ve genuinely changed for the better. He should be overjoyed about that, shouldn’t he? He should be happy for them.

And yet joy is the last thing he feels when faced with the genuine possibility that he might not be strong enough in his own convictions to stand up to Blue’s desires, that he might one day find himself trapped long-term on a planet that— albeit picturesque in its own unique way— he doesn’t call home, his feet rooted to the dead soil by thorny vines born of his own timidness.

Somehow, in the face of all his fears, he swears he’s transforming into a coward.

He didn’t used to be. The Steven Universe of Era 2 wouldn’t dare stand down from making his opinions heard, would fight for what he believes in until star-shine glistens overhead and all denizens of the galaxy could experience true freedom.

So what the hell is his hang up now? He knows exactly how he wants to respond, so why can’t he simply summon the courage to do it? Why can’t this be as intuitive as summoning his shield, or a bubble?

Why does he have to feel so... so twisted up inside about this?

Steven clenches his teeth then, a sudden spike of residual pain arcing up his spine. Yikes, okay. That doesn’t feel great. Maybe he’s been sitting up for too long, and needs to lay down and rest again.

Or else, maybe after he’s finally done discussing matters with Blue he could...

Wait a minute.

The fingers of his free hand begin to knead the blanket in his lap with a new wave of gusto as he comes to an abrupt revelation about his present condition that could change literally everything.

Stars, that’s perfect. That’s not even a lie! Why on Earth didn’t he think of this before?

He was severely injured this morning. The gemstone at his core outright could’ve shattered, without treatment. Surely any fellow Gem would understand if he says he needs some extra time to fully recover? Perhaps even... the rest of the week? Including his birthday? And on top of that, this extra time would allow him all the privacy he needs to figure out how to confidently and politely decline Blue’s recurring request to live on Homeworld. He’d literally be hitting two targets with one shield!

He nibbles at the inside of his bottom lip as he considers how best to phrase this.

“Hey, Blue?” he calls, immediately garnering her full gaze. “Um—“

Although briefly squirming like an insecure child under those intense azure irises, he stamps down that devilishly tempting urge to go silent and recede into the shadows of this conversation again, wholly compliant to whatever she says. No, he has to speak his mind. No positive change in this relationship will ever occur unless he resolves to stand up for himself, no matter how many reminders it takes. His muscles grow tense as his mouth bobs open once again.

“About the whole birthday celebration thing, I, uh...”

His tongue grows excruciatingly dry in his anxiety, and he’s suddenly struck with the reminder that he never drank the water Pearl left on his dinner tray. Pity, that. He swallows, throat tight and scratchy, and continues.

“I think it’s very kind of you to offer hosting a ball for me on Homeworld, but as of right now, I... I’m very, very sore, and need to stay at my home for a few days to recover from my injury, okay? I promise I’ll visit in person as soon as I’m physically able to,” he rapidly blurts, recognizing a glint of hurt coat Blue’s otherwise attentive expression, “just... after my birthday.”

The diamond lets her weary eyes flutter shut as she takes a moment to soak in everything he just said. Honestly, he can’t think to guess what’s running through her mind right now, and he’s not sure he wants to. Eventually however, she offers an extended sigh, its watercolor edges brushed with an air of melancholy.

“I suppose you’re right,” she replies, offering him a watery smile. “We wouldn’t want to upset your fragile organic system so soon after such an ordeal, now would we? Very well, then. I’ll leave you to rest.”

“Thank you,” he says, his shoulders finally loosening up from their overwrought state.

“We can do something to celebrate when you’re back on Homeworld, just the four of us. In fact, I’ve been talking with White, and we have the perfect idea for a gift!”

Steven gives a small nervous laugh, fiddling with the back of his shirt collar. “Hahah, yeah? Well, I guess I’ll look forward to it. Anyways, uh... thanks for checking in. Bye.”

His heart still pounding despite the overwhelming sense of resolution, his thumb presses the bottom point of the octahedron inwards, ending the call. He gently sets aside the communicator on his nightstand, next to his empty soup bowl. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, he flops backwards on his bed with his arms stretched wide and gives a sharp, celebratory cackle of relief. He... he finally did it! He spoke his mind. He stood up to Blue’s headstrong desires, successfully reasserted his intentions. Set clear boundaries, just like Amethyst said he should. And as his reward, maybe now he can celebrate his birthday at home without guilt hanging like a weighty anvil over his head. Just maybe. He smiles, allowing his sore body to sink right into the plush cocoon of his mattress.

For the first time today, things are finally on the up-and-up.

And so that pattern continues through the rest of the evening. It’s not long after his call with Blue that his dad returns from the store, not even bothering to put the frozen and refrigerated foods in their proper temperature controlled places before bounding upstairs to check on him upon the call of his name. No amount of detailed description could ever hope to intimately capture the full spectrum of sheer elation and love Dad unloads on him in the precious minutes that follow, but by the end of it his father’s sobbing in his arms, exhausted tears staining the collar of his pajama shirt as they clutch to each other with iron clad grips. At this point, the only way Steven can hope to respond is to act as nothing more but a solid rock, if only to reassure him that he’s alive, he’s well, he’s here.

The two of them spend a good chunk of the remaining evening together, watching reruns of Under the Knife at the foot of his bed while nibbling on some cheddar popcorn. It’s rejuvenating, honestly. Stars, is it rejuvenating. Somehow it seems like an eternity since they’ve been able to just... live life together, even in the simplest of ways. They’ll share a dinner here and there when he visits home, sure— a video call from another planet every week or so, yes— but there’s something so fundamentally irreplaceable about physically leaning against your loved ones and spending a tangible amount of time with them that he’s sorely missed over his busy months as Era 3’s ambassador. It’s special. Something to cherish. And something he dearly hopes to engage in with his family and friends a lot more as his immediate duties with the Diamonds wind to a close.

At some point in the middle of their fourth episode, Steven finally finds his phone. It was in his jacket pocket, of course— the new pink wool one he left slung over his desk chair before leaving on the corrupted Gem recovery mission this morning. With that retrieved, he makes sure to text a quick update to all the friends he missed seeing today. Even though logic tells him getting cracked wasn’t entirely his fault, it’s hard to dodge the temptation of guilt. Thankfully though, with the rest of the week now scrubbed entirely free of Homeworld stuff, perhaps he can reschedule a few of these gatherings.

The rest of his night is uneventful.

The Gems pop in and out to check on him, otherwise attending to their own obligations. Over the comforting backdrop of the television, Dad gushes about the concert he’s organized in town next week for Sadie Killer and the Suspects. Says he’s hopeful it’ll be a sellout. In return, he provides lush descriptions of some of the distant former colonies (now free planets) he’s gotten to visit as part of his political service. There’s some pretty stunning ones, he has to admit. The sightseeing he gets to engage in is a small but shining perk of his current responsibilities.

At ten, the TV is turned off. They hug and part ways, his dad quietly shuffling to the bathroom downstairs to brush his teeth and throw on a sleep shirt.

His headache is almost gone by now, having reduced to nothing more but a faint aura.

He’s standing outside on the porch enjoying some fresh, salty air before bed when Amethyst quietly slides into place alongside him, seeking his affection. She wraps her arms tight around his torso, burying her face against his shoulder. He reciprocates in kind. She doesn’t cry like Dad did, however. She doesn’t even speak. Rather, her purposeful silence ripples through his soul more than any concrete word or phrase ever could. Innately, he knows what she’s asking.

“I’m okay now,” he murmurs softly, blinking away his own budding tears while his expression is still hidden from her. “You healed me, I’m okay.”

“You’re a big liar, y’know that?” she says, voice muffled.

He rolls his eyes, pulling away from her embrace. “Fine, fine. I’m still a little sore. ‘Ya happy?”

Amethyst frowns, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she shifts her stance to lounge against the railing. “I’d be happier if none of that ever happened in the first place.”

Her frank statement hangs amidst the wind like a tattered flag upon an abandoned battlefield. Steven swallows, the resulting lump settling uneven in his throat.

(For a second he almost feels sick again, a surge of lingering discomfort churning at his core.)

“Yeah...” he sighs, staring off into the dim ocean horizon and forcing himself to acknowledge her unfortunate experience with this type of injury. “Yeah. I’m sorry if that brought back any bad memories for you.”

She scoffs. “Ch’yeah, so... I’m not gonna say it didn’t suck, but. It’s over now, y’know? I’ll deal. You don’t have to apologize for it, or anything.”

Long pause. His quartz sibling threads her fingers together as she leans against the chipping wood, silently tussling with herself under the ebbing solidarity of the ocean tides. A significant stretch of time passes between them before she finally takes it upon herself to speak again.

“‘S’not like it was your fault, anyways.”

His chest tightens upon recognition of that familiar self-blame inherent in her tone. If he were a stronger, better person, he might take it upon himself to chip away at the walls of that insecurity with love and reassurance, to be the kind, encouraging Steven he used to be. But he’s tired, and he’s lived long enough to acknowledge by now that perfectly formed words can’t fix everything. Not immediately, at least. People are complicated. He’s complicated. And sometimes the best one can manage is to simply act as a supportive companion to another.

Starlight glittering overhead, and the cool coastal breeze tussling at their hair, he joins Amethyst at the balcony and rests his cheek on her shoulder just like he used to do when he was little. Together, enveloped in a tension-filled silence, they watch the waves together. Watch the gulls pick at old food scraps further up shore, closer to the edge of the cliffs.

“Hey, what kind of gem was it, by the way?” he asks eventually. “You never said.”

“Ughhh,” she groans, dropping her head against the wood with a soft clunk. “A dang sapphire. Literally no wonder why she was so slippery!”

Steven can’t help the bubble of oddly placed glee that rises within him upon her answer. He cracks a dopey grin, shaking his head at himself. A snicker passes his lips.

A sapphire. Of course it was a sapphire. Gosh, isn’t that sweet, sweet vindication.

Her brow creases in confusion. “What?”

Perhaps finally cracking under months of accumulated stress, he breaks into peels of low laughter.

“What is it? Dude, ya’ gotta tell meeee!” she cries, playfully rustling at his arm as he doubles over against the railing, clutching his sides as he wrests to catch his breath and respond.

“No, it’s- it’s not even funny,” he says, pushing past the final surge and gaining some sense of composure again. “I just... my guess was spot-on. I’ve never seen a corrupted sapphire, before that.” His demeanor falls sober in a snap, wholly humbled by the abrupt reminder of the vital task waiting in his future, a task that— alongside the Diamonds’ bottled essences— only he can hope to see through. “I hope she’ll be okay, once she’s healed. I’m not even gonna mention what happened, honestly.”

Amethyst visibly pales at his allusion to the incident this morning. To ‘what happened.’ Hah. As if cushioning the truth in vague, non-specific language could at all erase the stark reality of what he went through. Sometimes he really is daft.

“Steven, I—“ she swallows hard, nibbling at her knuckles for a moment as she contemplates the greater details of whatever seems to be assailing her mind. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, okay? But... I have to at least ask. Do you, like... remember anything?”

He frowns, avoiding her direct gaze as he moves to lean against the balcony, overlooking the blustery shoreline.

“What, you mean about... everything after the fight? And at the, ah... at the fountain, yeah?”

Amethyst offers a hesitant nod, her eyes glossed with marked worry. Peering at the pinprick constellations above as he reflects on this question, Steven experimentally nudges scattered fragments of memory closer together, the seconds and minutes of that experience progressively locking into place until—

The world bends and splinters within his sight, his dad and Amethyst’s tear-stricken faces phasing into each other as they sink ever further into the thickets of their fearful despair. He’s prone in their hold, hard light pulsing rampant through his veins, unregulated, unrestrained, stretching out from his broken gemstone like clawing, yearning fingers... his muscles taut at one moment and pliable at the next, wholly unable to exert control over his body as his every limb jitters and jerks, unable to staunch his hoarse sobs as he soaks in the cold, terrifying static of it all, and now his words are jumbled and backwards, and deep within he knows this with an intense clarity but he can’t help it, he can’t fix it, he can barely even think, he ca—

Steven inhales evenly, purposefully not allowing his expression to flash even a minuscule micro-expression of residual fear. After all, it’s Era 3. Everyone’s supposed to find happiness and fulfillment now, which can’t happen when people are stuck dwelling on their shadowed past. Thus, Amethyst doesn’t need to be burdened with the knowledge of what he does or doesn’t know. That’s his problem to shoulder, his boulder to carry.

And he refuses to force anyone else to carry the weight of his past for him. He refuses to become like Blue, still stuck in a tempestuous pattern of pushing her emotions on everyone around her and making them feel like crap.

Perhaps it’s foolish, but he sorely wants to believe he’s better than her.

“Nope,” he says, feigning an unparalleled air of confidence as he shakes his head to confirm the negative. “Can’t remember a thing.”

#su #steven universe #amethyst #blue diamond #pearl #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

Text

Love Lockdown - Part 1

Dreaming With a Broken Heart

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You and Chris talk over the phone for the first time in a while.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop

Notes: This is not Part 6 of Slow Burn, I know, but hear me out: Holding on to this idea has kept me from writing Slow Burn, so I figured sharing it would help encourage creative flow! It’s a different kind of writing style for me. Hoping to flex my dramatic muscles with this series! LMK what yall think!

It’d been a long day, and it’s hard to tell at this moment if it’s been rewarding as well. It’ll show in the night of sleep you are almost giddily getting ready for. Fresh from the shower, and draped in your satin robe, you were moisturizing your sore body, paying extra attention to the spots that ached the most. Just as you were finally relaxing into your own touch, a skill you had to re-learn in the last few weeks, your phone began to ring. At 11:57 pm, on a Thursday night, your phone began to ring.

Annoyance instantly floods you. One damn moment to myself, that’s all I ask! However, that annoyance is quickly replaced with surprise, then anxiety as you look to see who it is calling you so late.

‘💙Boston Bae💙’ it says, with that picture you adore: Chris is sticking his tongue out, arm around your shoulder, and you’re smiling up at him, like a fool in love. You distinctly remember when that picture was taken. Rather, you remember the feeling you had. It was at the point in your relationship when you were just getting comfortable with one another. No more awkward lulls in conversation, or rushing to clean your place before he came over. But at the same time, there was a delicious newness you loved to revel in. You had unstoppable butterflies in the pit of your stomach every single moment you were with him.

That was only a year and a half ago, and you two were only a year and a half in at that point. You wish you could remember when the butterflies just... stopped. Back then, you would’ve picked up before the phone even rang. Tonight? You almost didn’t want to answer. But a huge part of you missed him dearly.

“Hey.”

“Hey baby,” his voice is low, husky, and tired— how it always is before bed. There’s a beat of silence as butterflies flood you. Just like they used to. You’re silently thankful. “It’s been a while, since…”

You tune him out, annoyance starting to fill you up again. …Since there’s been any interaction between us that resembled a couple? Yeah, but you wouldn’t say it… not exactly, anyway.

“Well… phone works two ways,” you breathe out. He lets out a pained ‘hmph’ and you wish you kept your mouth shut. “I’m sorry—“ you quickly remorse, “it’s just... been a long day, I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Ahh, those crops giving you a hard time?”

“No, more like the kids.”

“The goat kind or the human kind?” He jokes.

“The human kind, the human kind…” you laugh out.

“I’m sorry they’re giving you a hard time, but think of it this way, it could be worse. Dodger could’ve eaten your entire tub of Brigham’s that you were planning to make last for two weeks! Babe, you know how much I love that ice cream! That damn dog sometimes…” You share a laugh with him again. Oh, how good it was for a moment. Then, the reality of your situation slowly creeps in your mind like a dark cloud.

It was initially Chris’ idea to quarantine separately. You weren’t keen on the idea at first, not knowing the severity of the pandemic in its early stages of reaching the part of the world you both claimed as the hubs of your careers; good ole sunny L.A. He charmingly sold it to you. You foolishly bought it.

“I think we can both agree that we need the space. It’ll be 2, 3 weeks, tops!” You remember him saying. Little did he know…

When you both made it to your respective lockdown locations, you checked in with each other the one time. And that was it. No communication at all that first week. And for the better part of the second; both of you too timid to make the first move.

By the way the news was looking, it’d be a while before you’d see anyone you weren’t on lockdown with. So, now, super late on a Thursday night of the third week, he calls.

Chris notices your laugh die out. “Baby? You there?”

You try to find your voice, but it barely comes through as you say, “He could’ve.”

“Huh?”

The emotions start to bubble in you, then the words just erupt.

“Dodger could’ve eaten my favorite treat. He could’ve been my pain. You could’ve been my headache. I could’ve been there. We could’ve been together right now!” you broken-heartedly babble.

Chris is quiet a second too long for your liking. He finally speaks. “Baby, I—“

You hang up.

You stare out your window, hoping you’d find an answer to one of your million questions in the endless night outside.

Your phone buzzes on the bed beside you where you placed it. Flipping it over tentatively, you’re nervous to see the name you know is there. All you do is stare at the ringing phone, that damn picture, until it says missed call and the screen goes black. Doing breathing exercises to calm your nerves, you hope it’ll disappear your phone, the reminder of your love problems, from existence, but the phone rings again.

It eventually stops, but you’re still uneasy. You’re slightly startled by the obnoxious ding your phone makes to alert you you’ve received a text.

‘We need to talk… for real. I will FaceTime you tomorrow at 2:00 pm. Please pick up. I love you 💙’

‘We need to talk…’? That’s never good. You pick up your phone to type a simple response to avoid another emotional outburst

‘Ok. I will. I love you too ❤️’

You hit send. As the message is whooshed through space to Chris’ phone, you begin to sob at the thought of what you and Chris “need to talk” about. A few minutes pass and you try to calm yourself down with the thought of Maybe it’ll be for the best.

Before you know it, you drift off to sleep, dreaming with a broken heart.

Part 2

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans series #chris evans fan fic #chris evans x black reader #love lockdown series #chris evans fan fiction

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

don’t let me die while i’m like this

a dust & ashes inspired fic that turned into simply a Pierre Bezukhov inspired fic for @matchtheminrenown that has been such a long time coming you have probably forgotten so surprise. However, if you read the warning list and want something lighter, I can absolutely do that for you lol

ao3

Warning: depression, alcohol, suicidal ideation/intrusive thoughts, car accident, I don’t know if this counts as dissociation but it’s similar, there’s a happy ending I promise

Alex was happy. Wasn't he?

His eyes drifted from the blank ceiling over to the man in bed beside him. Forrest looked peaceful, his face smushed into the pillow. Michael slept on his back, but Forrest slept on his stomach. The first few times they shared a bed, Alex would regularly make sure he was still breathing and hadn't suffocated himself on the pillow. He was always fine.

For a moment, Alex thought about rolling over and waking him up slow. He thought about starting his day with languid kisses and getting some of his morning energy through drinking in Forrest rather than coffee. But Forrest slept on his stomach and somehow waking him up while he was face down seemed too hard.

Instead, Alex grabbed his crutches and hauled himself out of bed. His mind was a little blurry and he seemed to move on autopilot rather than actual desire to start his day. He braced himself against the door of the fridge as he leaned down to get his cold brew pitcher and then reached up to grab a cup. By the time he poured half a cup, he decided a little kahlúa wouldn't hurt.

He's stirring in milk when Forrest appears, lines from the pillow case imprinted on his face. Alex remembered thinking that was cute before, but it didn't stir that same feeling in him. This must be the mundanity of having a steady relationship. He just figured it took longer than three months for that to kick in.

"Morning," Forrest said, yawning and walking past him to make his own coffee. He eyed the bottle of kahlúa, but he didn't say anything about. Or, not directly. "Are you working today?"

"Yeah," Alex said, tightening the lid on his cup and feeding the metal straw through the little hole.

"You need help?" he asked.

"No," Alex said simply.

He slid the cup to the opposite side of the counter and used his crutches to walk there. Then he grabbed the cup and leaned as far as he could to put the cup on the window sill before walking to the window. Then he leaned and moved the cup to the slightly oddly placed table in between the kitchen and living room, then to the back of the couch, then he was all good. It was a system he'd perfected.

Alex sunk into the couch and stared at the TV. He wondered if Donna Reed was on this early but couldn’t convince himself to check. Instead, he sipped on his coffee slowly, allowing himself to zone out whole waiting for his second alarm to go off. He zoned out most days lately. Alex decided it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe he was struggling to be interested in anything and maybe he was on autopilot most days, but that was better than being sad. He'd choose that over sadness any day.

“Are you okay, Alex?” Forrest asked. Alex blinked a few times and saw Forrest settled into the other side of the couch. He didn’t remember him sitting there.

“Yeah,” Alex said and he meant it. He was fine. Forrest nodded slowly and settled into the couch.

Alex stared at him. He was attractive, objectively, and somewhere inside Alex found him to still be someone he liked to kiss sometimes, but waking up to him in the morning started feeling less and less like something that brought him joy. But he’d rather have someone over no one any day.

“Maybe we can have sort of a date night tonight? I’ll make dinner, we can watch a movie, eat ice cream,” Forrest suggested. Alex sipped his coffee.

“Okay.”

His second alarm went off to tell him to get ready for work just as he finished drinking his coffee. Forrest offered to clean his cup for him as he was getting up and Alex said his thanks before heading back to the bedroom. Again, he fell into autopilot as he got ready for the day. Prosthetic, brush teeth, fatigues, fix hair, stretch. He was pretty sure he’d missed a step, already not really remembering participating in it, but his toothbrush was damp and his hair was fine.

“Alex,” Forrest said cautiously as he headed towards the door, “Don’t forget your jacket.”

Sure enough, when he looked down, he’d forgotten his uniform jacket. He went back to get it.

Driving was more difficult than he remembered. His mind kept wandering to nowhere, his eyes getting distracted or unfocusing and he’d have to make sure he wasn’t speeding or going to slow or swerving into other people’s lanes. He shook his head, trying to shake away the cloudy feeling and doing his best to just focus. It wasn’t fucking working.

Alex thought about pulling over and getting more coffee to see if that would help. He thought about calling in sick so he could just stop fucking driving. He didn’t really want to deal with anyone today and this was just the icing on the cake. Could his brain get any more fucking annoying than when it didn’t want to listen?

As he approached a clogged four-way intersection and, just for a moment, not for the first time, wondered what would happen if he didn’t stop. What if he just let go of the wheel. What if he just closed his eyes. But he didn’t. He shook the thoughts along with the fog out of his mind.

His phone rang as he sat at the red light and he looked down, seeing an incoming call from Michael Guerin. Which, in itself was weird. He didn’t call. Michael Guerin kept his space from Alex, always carrying that invisible 10-foot pole to make sure he didn’t get too close. Alex had cried once about it, but he hadn’t cried in a over a week now about anything. Progress.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Alex,” Michael breathed. Alex remembered a time that used to make his whole body revive itself. “What are you doing today?”

“Work.”

“Well, what time do you get off? I need your help with something,” he said. Alex stared forward, his heart beating at a stagnant and anxiety-ridden tempo. Weeks Michael hadn’t talked to him. Weeks Michael had avoided him whenever Alex had been forced to play nice during all the bullshit he put out there. Weeks of it until Michael needed help.

And somehow Alex couldn’t even be angry.

“I’m tired,” Alex said, letting off the break as the light turned green. Michael was quiet for a second.

“Well, like, later, I mean,” Michael said awkwardly.

Alex furrowed his eyebrows as he watched a car on another side of the intersection coming in at full speed. He ignored them, expecting them to stop like most people did,

“Yeah, I--”

They didn’t.

Alex woke up with the worst headache imaginable.

“Hey,” Kyle said, looming over him with a warm smile. Alex squinted at him and closed his eyes again, trying to subdue the pain. “Are you in pain?”

“My head,” Alex groaned.

“Okay, give me one second, I’ll tell them to get you something. I would do it myself, but, you know, conflict of interest and--”

“Kyle.”

“Sorry,” he said, pausing for a moment, “I was worried about you.”

Alex sighed, opening his eyes again. Kyle had turned off the lights and closed the curtains so it was a little bit better. He sat up, his body a little sore and his head still aching, but overall he was fine.

“I’m fine,” Alex said. Kyle scoffed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, “Your car was totalled, Alex. That car smashed into your passenger side and pushed the driver’s side to smash into the car beside you. You were literally trapped in a giant metal sandwich and somehow the worst thing that happened was you hit your head. It knocked you out in time to make your body completely relax and I’m pretty sure that’s what saved you from worse damage and they’re keeping you on watch just in case you have a brain bleed we didn’t see in the first scan, but that was some miracle shit, Alex.”

Alex’s eyes widened and he looked down at himself. He didn’t even see a scratch. What the hell?

“You scared the shit out of all of us,” Kyle said, reaching out to gently rub his thumb over what was probably a massive bump on the side of his forehead. Alex swallowed hard as guilt filled his system. Yeah, this wasn’t his fault, but it very well could’ve been. “Guerin called us freaking out.”

“Is he here?” Alex asked. Kyle nodded.

“Everyone is, but I told them to give you some space first because I figured you wouldn’t react well to a room full of people.”

“Yeah,” Alex breathed, licking his lips. Kyle still had that grim little look on his face, still touching the bump on his head.

“When he called saying something happened to you, my mind jumped to... just not good places,” he admitted, meeting Alex’s eyes, “Are you okay, Alex? Something has been going on with you and I guess I didn’t realize just how many warning signs you’ve been giving off until I heard you were hurt and I immediately assumed you did it to yourself. I’ve been a shitty friend and I’m gonna be there for you more.”

“You’re not a shitty friend,” Alex said. Kyle rolled his eyes, his hand dropping down a little to rest on the side of Alex’s neck.

“I noticed there was something wrong and I didn’t talk to you. I’m talking to you now and I’m not going back. So, tell me, are you okay? Is this a good excuse to look into adjusting medication or something? Tell me what’s going on or what you need and let me help because I never want to feel like I did when I got that call, okay?” Kyle said. Alex nodded easily and moved in for a hug.

Kyle clung onto him as tight as his body would allow and Alex reveled in it. It seemed to be the first time in awhile he actually felt something. It made Alex realize that maybe numb wasn’t better than sadness after all.

How long had he spent just allowing things to happen? When did he go from bad to worse? He couldn’t remember. Well, fuck that. He’d survived something that should’ve killed him. This was his second chance. Or, third chance. Fourth chance? It didn’t matter. He’d gotten out unscathed and he was thankful. He didn’t want to die when he couldn’t feel anything and didn’t have the things he wanted. He wanted to feel something, everything. He was ready to force himself out of his rut.

Alex squeezed Kyle and pulled back a little, resting the non-bumped side of his head against Kyle’s. Despite the tears in the doctor’s eyes, he smiled right back at him.

“I’ve been a little numb lately,” Alex admitted, “But I’m done with that. Done wasting my life being numb. I’m going to do good things. Marie Kondo my way through life. Does it bring me joy? No, so we change it. Starting with Forrest.”

“Whoa, what?” Kyle asked, pulling back, “You’re gonna dump Forrest?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathed. Saying it out loud made him feel even better. He was putting in effort, moving forward. It felt good. “I almost died and, if I had, I would’ve been in a relationship with someone who doesn’t really inspire me to feel something. He’s a great guy, I just need something...”

“More like Guerin?” Kyle guessed. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Fuck Guerin. If he wants me, he can fight for me,” Alex decided, “But yes.”

Kyle laughed and let his hands fall off of Alex.

“Well, whatever you want to do, I’m here for you,” Kyle said, “And if you’re ever feeling numb like that, just tell me. I know you probably think no one cares, but we do. I do. I’m here to listen. I love you, man, and I want you around as long as possible.”

“I love you too,” Alex said.

It was the first time in a long time he’d said those words to anyone, romantic or platonic. He quite liked that it was Kyle who got to hear them. It made him smile. It made him feel good. He was never going back to feeling numb. He was going to do whatever he could to keep this feeling in tact.

“Now when can I leave?”

Alex was happy. Wasn’t he?

His eyes drifted from the blank ceiling over to the empty space in bed beside him. It’d been a week since he broke up with Forrest. He’d taken it well enough, he said that he’d seen in coming and would like to be friends, but he needed a little space and Alex agreed happily.

And he’d been happy. He didn’t have a concussion, he bought a new car, he went to work ready for the day, he went for drinks with Kyle, he went through files with Michael again (after an apology, of course). He was doing better, so much better he didn’t even need to take his meds anymore. Or, he thought so.

Today he was back to feeling rough. He’d been doing his damnedest to get out of bed and he was struggling. He knew a bad day would come eventually, but so soon? Did he have to plummet so soon? He was trying so hard.

Tears sprung to his eyes and he took a deep breath, willing them away. No. He refused. He was going to be happy. He was moving forward.

He forced himself to get out of bed and it helped when he didn’t think about it. And he moved to the kitchen to make his coffee, shutting his brain down as he allowed himself to swing back into autopilot. It was easier that way.

His phone rang as he sat on the couch and he sighed, answering it without looking.

“Hey,” Michael said on the other end. For a little while after his wreck, Michael’s voice had brought him so much happiness. They would look over files, tease each other, laugh. Two days ago, they play fought and ended up a giggling mess like they were teenagers. Two days ago. How had he ricocheted so quickly? Because today the sweet sound of his voice drained Alex of his energy.

“What?” Alex asked, swirling his coffee. He couldn’t finish it. It was half empty and he couldn’t finish it.

“You wanna come have breakfast? I can make omelets and some coffee, we can watch a little Donna Reed,” Michael offered, that tone in his voice that was usually a little tempting. Alex wanted to want to go, but he was tired and had more important things to handle.

“I have work,” Alex said.

“Tomorrow then?” Michael suggested, still not dissuaded.

“I’m tired.”

Michael was silent for a few seconds, drawing it out as long as possible. It started to make Alex feel a little sick. He wanted to apologize and say he would come in the morning even though he didn’t want to. Before he could, though, Michael started talking again.

“Okay,” Michael agreed, “Okay, yeah, that’s fine. Get some rest and I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.”

Alex held his phone to his ear long after Michael hung up.

Kyle was standing by Alex’s new car when he got off of work.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked. He was too tired to deal with this right now. He just wanted to go home and crawl into bed and stay there for a few years.

Kyle held up Alex’s weekly pill box. He stared blankly at it, not really understanding how or why he had them. Kyle shook his head and held them out alongside a bottle of water.

“Michael called me, said something was up. You can imagine my surprise when I saw you picked around your antidepressants the last week,” he said. Alex stared at him and reluctantly accepted the offering. “You can’t just go off them, Alex.”

“I was doing fine,” Alex said, reluctantly fishing the pill out of the little compartment.

“Yeah, because you were taking them and because you were riding that high,” Kyle said. Alex shrugged, staring at the pill in his palm. Was it normal to stare at it and feel like failing? Tears burned in his eyes and he blinked them away. Kyle’s boots crunched against the ground as he stepped into Alex’s space. “It’s normal to have good days and bad days, okay? Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I thought I was better,” Alex said, shaking his head as a new wave of tears hit him, “I mean I’ve been doing my best to make myself happy, but nothing’s working. I don’t understand why I’m like this.”

“Alex,” Kyle said, his hand gently gripping Alex’s chin and making him look at him, “This shit isn’t a linear process. You are doing better. The way you’re feeling right now? Yeah, sure, it’s worse than you were a couple days ago, but is it worse than you were three weeks ago?”

“I don’t even remember three weeks ago.”

“That proves my point,” Kyle insisted, “Just take the pill and let’s go home, okay?”

Reluctantly, Alex did what he said and let Kyle pull him into a hug. It wasn’t as uplifting as the last hug Kyle gave him felt, but it was as strong and stable as always. Alex loved him for it.

They made an appointment to see a therapist on the way home.

Alex was content.

His eyes drifted from the blank ceiling over to the man in bed beside him. Kyle slept on his side with his mouth open and his arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. He took up most of the bed and Alex had woken up more than once because Kyle had unintentionally pushed him to the edge. Alex would kick him until he either moved or woke up with a whiny ‘why are you kicking me?’. It’d be funny if it wasn’t annoying.

This wasn’t a permanent arrangement, but it was one that, all sleeping habits aside, Alex appreciated. It took him a little while to accept that maybe having someone around him to be a rock before he could be his own was important. Alex had spent so much time thinking he needed to be self-sufficient that he hadn’t realized how important a good support system was. And Kyle was one hell of a support system.

On days when Alex felt good, he was there to remind him he still needed to take his medication and still needed to go to therapy because that’s how you stayed feeling good. Whenever he was feeling bad, Kyle would manage to find that perfect balance between babying him through it and getting him to cope on his own. It kept him from shutting down while still allowing him to process it. On days that were in the middle, Kyle was still just there and his friend. He liked it.

There was also just a lot of understanding that being content most days in life wasn’t a failure, it was the goal. No one could be happy every day. Content was okay. It was better than being numb. Anything was better than being numb.

Alex didn’t get out of bed until there was knocking at the door. He didn’t groan or have to battle with himself if he should just ignore it, he simply got up and went to the door. He didn’t have to think about it. Progress.

When he opened it, Michael Guerin was standing there with grocery bags.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked. He hid the fact that he was happy to see him. They weren’t together, but they were working on navigating what that could one day be like. Communication and dedicating time to each other were two of their most important things right now.

“I’m making you breakfast. Well, us and Kyle breakfast. Omelets and coffee,” Michael said, pushing his way through, “And guess what I brought?”

“What?” Alex asked, following him into the kitchen. Michael dug through one of the grocery bags before holding up a CD.

“Season 1 of The Donna Reed Show was in the discount bin for $3. Now you have your own copy,” Michael said, flashing a smile. Alex smiled right back, sitting down at the counter.

“Thank you,” he said.

“No problem,” Michael said, turning back to find a pan to start cooking with.

It wasn’t long before Kyle got up as well and Michael poured him a cup of coffee. It was nice having them both here. No animosity, no jealousy, they were just there for no reason. No reason other than that they wanted to. Because they liked being around him and they loved him. This was contentment. This was the goal. Michael at the stove and complaining at Kyle for putting too much shit into his coffee. It felt like home.

And, although he wasn’t in the best of moods, Alex smiled.

#alex manes fic #kylex brotp #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #kyle valenti #rnm fic #my fic #no hate to forrest #full hate to myself because i'm gonna be late for work becuase i wanted to finish this lol

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ao719 · 4 years

Text

Split

Split - Man or a Monster (Chapter 3)

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Title inspiration: Man or a Monster - Sam Tinnesz

Summary: A change in the King’s behavior becomes the catalyst to revealing secrets buried beneath the surface.

Warning: This series will contain sensitive and NSFW material. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+.

Catch Up Here

A/N: huge thanks to @dcbbw for reading snips, helping and making suggestions, and for prereading! Love youuu!

Tags: @bobasheebaby @leelee10898 @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @gardeningourmet @blackcoffee85 @gibbles82 @annekebbphotography @sweetest-marbear @wannabemc2 @indiacater @liamxs-world @smalltalk88 @damienswhore @classylady1234 @kazdog75-blog @lodberg @umccall71 @texaskitten30 @thequeenofcronuts @romanticatheart-posts @jared2612 @custaroonie @drakesensworld @perfectprofessorherokid @blznbaby @iplaydrake @be-still-my-aching-heart @moneyfordiamonds @the-soot-sprite @ladyangel70 @lynne1993 @kate-mckenzie @emichelle @zilch3 @princess-andromeda-nazario @mfackenthal @dcbbw @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @sirbeepsalot @emceesynonymroll @debramcg1106 @gnatbrain @thecordoniandiaries @janezillow @caroldxnvxrs @silverofdreams

Liam’s eyes squeezed tight with a muffled groan as he rolled over in his bed. The more awake his body became, the more aware he was of his cracking headache. Fuck, he thought, not again. The feeling meant he’d clearly drank the night before, but once again, he had no memory of doing so. After laying in bed for a few long moments, he raised his heavy eyelids half way only for them to fall shut. He raised them again and turned his head, Alexandria’s side of the bed once again empty, cold and untouched. He slowly let out a deep breath as he sat up, swinging his bare feet down onto the carpet.

Once on his feet, the room swayed, almost causing him to lose balance, and he reached out for the wall. He smacked his lips and his stomach turned in an unfriendly way. After finally making it to the bathroom, he moved to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face just to feel something refreshing. Liam glanced up, the mirror reflecting back his eyes, a lattice of pink over the white, and dark circles beneath them. He wondered in that moment what had happened; what he had said or done this time, dreading to find out.

Liam leaned against the counter staring back at his own reflection as he tried and failed to remember. He could feel the lump swelling in his throat and the sting behind his eyes as his anxiety rose, wondering why this kept happening to him. What is going on with me? He didn’t recognize the man in the mirror, a stranger to even himself.

Liam tried putting the pieces together, but he couldn’t, just like the times before. He knew he was supposed to meet with Alexandria the day before to discuss what had happened the other night because he couldn’t remember. He remembered her being upset that morning but agreeing to meet him in his study when she returned from the opening ceremony at the Children’s Hospital where she was asked to give a speech. He remembered messaging her good luck on his way to his late morning meeting.

He had met with Regina and Madeleine over brunch to discuss the upcoming tea ceremony on Alexandria’s behalf while she was at the hospital. He remembered Regina asking him if he had been feeling alright, saying that she noticed he seemed a bit off the last few times she saw him in passing. He assumed she must have caught him during one of his ... episodes. Madeleine then asked if he was coming down with something, stating that now was not the time for the King to fall ill with certain appearances he and Alexandria were expected to make. He insisted he was fine, both out of shame, and also not wanting to cause worry.

Liam had wanted to speak with Madeleine about what had happened in his study the other day. He wanted to know what the hell had prompted him to bring up the alliance talks during the council meeting that she had apparently spearheaded on his behalf according to what Alexandria had told him, knowing damn well he had told her no prior to the meeting, but he didn’t want to bring it up in front of Regina. He had asked Madeleine to meet with him after their brunch, telling her that it was important. He remembered walking back to his study from Regina’s quarters once their brunch was over and feeling slightly lightheaded, having a full on headache when he finally made it back. He scarcely remembered Madeleine coming to meet him, the memory so blurry he wondered if it had really happened at all. After that, he had nothing.

Liam couldn’t remember anything about the rest of that day. He couldn’t even remember coming back to his and Alexandria’s quarters that night. He had no recollection of whether or not he had met with Alexandria when she returned, but judging by the state in which he woke up, and considering he did remember her telling him she wouldn’t even entertain the idea of having a discussion with him if he had been drinking, he was assuming that didn’t happen. But he couldn’t remember even touching a drink the day before, knowing for certain that he hadn’t up to the point where his memory failed him.

When Liam finally stepped out of the bedroom after taking a hot shower and getting himself ready for his day, he warily made his way out towards the kitchen, unsure of what he was going to be met with, apprehension filling him about what may have happened this time. He cautiously rounded the corner into the kitchen to see Alexandria dressed and ready for her day, pouring herself a cup of coffee into a large mug. She turned around and froze when she saw Liam and he slowed his pace to a full stop.

Liam and Alexandria silently stared at one another; her expression guarded and unsure, his filled with trepidation. “Good morning,” he quietly spoke, reading her body language. I did something.

“Feeling ok this morning?” There was a small bite in her tone. No ‘hello’, no ‘good morning’.

“No, not really ... not at all,” he swallowed nervously, his eyes not moving off of her once. Despite the obvious anger she was carrying, he could see the hurt in her eyes as well. “Alex-” Liam paused when she shook her head.

“It happened again ... I already know, Liam. And I’m not going to stand here and plead for you to talk to me when you have a free moment today. The last two times I’ve done that, you’ve completely disrespected me and at this point I don’t really know what else I can or am supposed to do on my part if you won’t open up to me. So when you’re ready to finally talk ... you can come find me.”

Alexandria brushed by Liam and he turned watching her walk away. “Alex, please, I ... I don’t-”

“I hear you that you don’t remember, Liam,” she interrupted as she turned back to look at him, her eyes filled with sadness. “But I do. I remember the things you did and said ... and so do others.” With that, Alexandria turned and walked out of their quarters, leaving Liam more anxious than before. So do others? He didn’t know what she meant by that, and now he was more nervous about what he had done or said ... and to whom.

****

Liam slowly made his way to his study, Alexandria’s words to him replaying in his head as he continued to try and fail to remember. He was just stepping into a corridor when he glanced up, seeing Drake and Bastien speaking in hushed tones ahead of him. “Good morning,” he calmly spoke as he approached them. He was trying to push down his anxiety from his already stressful morning and managed to put on his masterful stoic facade.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Bastien slightly bowed.

Drake stared at Liam, his jaw tensing as he thought back to the words his so called friend spoke to him the night before. He was still hurt, but more angry than anything else. He tried to remember what Alexandria had told him, how Liam hasn’t been quite himself, but the things Liam said to him were way out of line and he wasn’t going to let him push the blame simply on being stressed. Without a word he turned and stalked off down the long hallway, both Bastien and Liam furrowing their brows in confusion as they glanced at one another.

Liam stepped away from Bastien, quickly walking after him. “Drake,” he called out, but Drake neither stopped nor slowed his pace. “Drake, wait!”

“What?” Drake snapped as he abruptly stopped and turned to face Liam, almost causing them to collide.

Liam came to a halt. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Ok ...” Liam’s brows knitted. “Then why do you seem so pissed off?”

He really doesn’t remember, Drake thought, remembering what Alexandria had told him about Liam being forgetful. But he couldn’t make himself care as the things he said to him the night before became louder in his mind. “Forget it ... oh wait, you’ve already done that.”

“What?” Liam looked at him, genuinely confused.

Drake tensed his jaw, knowing he needed to stop before he said something he shouldn’t, unlike Liam. “Again, forget it. I have to get to the stables.”

“Maybe we can get together this weekend?” Liam questioned.

“Doubt it,” Drake replied as he turned and began to walk away. “I’ll probably be too busy drinking myself into an early grave, considering it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

Liam stood slightly stunned as he watched Drake disappear down the hall. Then he thought back to Alexandria’s words that morning: I remember the things you did and said ... and so do others. Liam hung his head as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, knowing for certain that he had said or done something to Drake.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Bastien asked, now standing a short distance behind Liam.

Liam let out a long sigh. “No ... nothing is alright.” He turned back the way he came, headed to see his wife.

****

Alexandria sat at her desk trying to focus on the work in front of her, but her mind was on Liam. She could feel a tension headache already brewing, opening her drawer and pulling out a bottle of aspirin, trying to nip it in the bud before it became worse. She swallowed the pills down with some water and let out a breath before she glanced down at the information about the tea party that Regina had given her the evening before.

Alexandria had just settled herself at her desk when there was an urgent knocking on her door. Before she could call for them to enter, the door flung open and Liam appeared. “What did I do last night?” His voice was agitated, laced with fear. She could see the worry in his expression as he shut the door behind him. “I just saw Drake and he wouldn’t even talk to me!” He ran his palms down his face as his breath shuddered. “That … that’s what you meant … when you said, ‘and so do other’s’, isn’t it?”

Alexandria let out a heavy sigh as she pushed her chair away from her desk and folded her arms across her chest, studying Liam carefully as she tried to determine which version of him was standing before her. She debated what to say to whoever was standing before her. Last night, long after Liam had stumbled his way inside their quarters, collapsed into bed, and passed out, Drake stopped by to check on her and make sure she was alright. He was upset, confused, and embarrassed. After some convincing on her end, Alexandria got Drake to open up to her. Over snifters of whiskey, Drake told Alexandria what Liam had said to him after the Queen had left them earlier. Drake told her everything, including Liam taunting him for his past feelings for her and insinuating that Drake still held them.

Alexandria chose not to make a big deal of that revelation. First, it wasn’t the most pressing or important matter at hand. Second, it was evident that it was a sensitive matter still for Drake, and while his romantic feelings for her had faded, it was clear his embarrassment over them had not. She wasn’t going to make him feel more awkward than he clearly already did. What did bother her was the fact Liam had crossed yet another line; she didn’t blame Drake for being upset with him.

“Sit,” Alexandria calmly, yet sternly spoke as she motioned her head to the empty seat across from her. Liam held her gaze as he moved and lowered himself into the chair. “Yesterday, when I arrived back from the ceremony I went to meet you, as we had discussed. You weren't in your study. Bastien told me that you had left for a meeting with Madeleine.” Alexandria watched the confusion fill Liam’s features, knowing he didn't recall it. “Later on, you came here to my study. I was speaking with Drake … and to be one hundred percent truthful with you, I was venting to him about what has been going on with you.” Liam closed his eyes, running his hand down his face. “I was upset when he came by, Liam, it’s not like I could tell him nothing was wrong and have him believe me. When you showed up you … you weren’t yourself … again. You told me Regina needed to speak with me and I left you and Drake. You said … awful things to him, Liam.” Liam looked at her in stunned silence. “You taunted him, you accused him of having feelings for me, and then you handed him a bottle of whiskey and basically told him to drink himself to death because it was the only thing he was good at.” Alexandria watched Liam’s hand ball into a fist over his mouth as his eyes welled with tears.

Liam didn’t remember having this conversation. He didn’t even remember seeing Drake the day before. And he would never speak that way to Drake, not if he was in the right mind anyway. There was no part of him sitting there at that moment that would even think Drake had feelings for Alexandria, nor had he ever thought that way. He had no idea where the words for that vile conversation had even come from. Liam would never think, much less speak the words Alexandria said he did. But apparently … he had.

“I …” he paused as he looked up, meeting his wife’s gaze. How many more times could he look at her and continue to use I don’t remember as an excuse? But it was all he could say, because it was the truth. “I don’t remember … I don’t remember you coming back … I don’t remember speaking to either you or Drake!”

“Liam …” Alexandria shook her head as she let out a breath. “We have to talk about this. What do you remember from yesterday?”

“I had brunch with Regina and Madeleine on your behalf regarding the tea ceremony …”

Alexandria furrowed her brows. “Ok …” she tried to keep her tone calm, “I’m not trying to point fingers, because we don’t know what’s happening, and it’s a pretty big accusation to make, but … each time we’ve spoken about what’s been going on with you recently … Madeleine and alcohol seem to be recurring factors.”

“Alex, I meet with Madeleine all the time. She’s the royal communications director. Meeting with her everyday, multiple times a day, is nothing new or out of the ordinary since she took the position as your public relations officer during the Unity Tour.”

“Yes … during the Unity Tour … when this all started the first time.”

Liam looked up meeting her gaze. “I was with both her and Regina yesterday for brunch. I had absolutely nothing to drink during that time except a glass of water. And still…” he trailed off, not wanting to admit it, but he knew he needed to. “When I left the brunch … I felt dizzy and lightheaded and by the time I made it back to my study I had a splitting headache. There was no alcohol involved.”

“And after that headache … that’s where your memory goes blank?” Liam nodded somberly. “Ok … so maybe these headaches are the cause. You’ve surely had a lot of them recently.”

“It … it’s just stress, love. They’re only tension headaches.”

“Liam, this seems to go far beyond just simple stress. There is nothing happening in our lives to cause you that much stress … at least that I’m aware of,” she eyed him for a moment, but he said nothing. “And a headache shouldn’t make you lose the ability to remember. And they shouldn’t make you …” she trailed off looking down at her hands twisting together in her lap. “They shouldn’t make you abruptly change your personality … the way you act, the way you treat and talk to people.”

Before Liam could respond, a knock came through Alexandria’s door. She called for them to enter and Bastien poked his head inside. “Your video conference with Francesco is set to go.”

Liam let out a sigh as he nodded. “Thank you, Bastien.” He rose from his chair, looking at Alexandria who was staring up at him expectantly.

A part of her wanted to clear her schedule for the entire day. That way she could stay by Liam’s side and see what goes on and make sure they spoke later on. But she knew he would protest. She had duties and responsibilities and he wouldn’t hear, despite what she thought, that he was one of them. Her gut was telling her to say the hell with it and do it anyway, but she was afraid of adding onto his frustrations. One more chance, she thought.

She rose from her chair and walked over to him, his hands settling on her waist as she reached up and cupped his face. “We need to talk, Liam. About everything. We still haven’t talked about the other day …”

“I know, love.”

“And you need to speak with Drake.”

“I will …” He leaned down pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, keeping his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against hers when they parted. “I’m sorry … Alex, I’m so sorry. I don’t … I don’t know …” he trailed off, clearly frustrated with himself.

“Sir, they’re ready,” Bastien’s voice called from the hallway. His jaw slightly tensed at the second interruption. He kissed Alexandria once more, whispering in her ear a promise that they would talk that evening before he turned, walking out of her study. Liam seemed willing to talk, just like the times before, but she was left standing there, wondering and worrying about which Liam she would meet later.

****

Alexandria finished with a few meetings of her own before heading back to her study. She had done the best she could throughout the morning and afternoon to check in with Liam and how he was doing. She messaged him a few times in between her meetings, getting responses that sounded like her Liam, putting her qualms at ease somewhat.

Alexandria flipped through paperwork on her desk when she heard a knock on the doorframe of her office. She glanced up to see Drake in the doorway, holding two plates of pizza. “Thought you could use something to eat.”

She smiled thankfully at him, not realizing she had missed lunch. “Thank you.”

She stood and grabbed two glasses of water before meeting him over in the sitting area of her study. “How are you holding up?” Drake asked before taking a bite out of his slice of pizza.

“I’m ok. Liam seemed … himself this morning. As much of himself as he can be, I guess. What about you? He said he was going to talk to you …”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy down in the stables. I haven’t seen him since this morning. I was still irritated …”

Alexandria let out a sigh as she looked over at Drake. “I know you’re upset, and I don’t blame you, at all. But when I talked to him this morning ... he didn’t remember, Drake. The look on his face … he was horrified when I told him what he had said to you.”

“I know … I’ll talk to him when he comes to me.” They sat silent for a while as they ate. Drake glanced over at her after finishing his pizza, leaning his back against the sofa. “So … have you thought about what you’re going to do about all of this if talking to him isn’t enough?”

“A little. I’m supposed to meet him later on this evening. I’m going to suggest he see a doctor. He’s been complaining of these headaches and getting lightheaded and dizzy. Maybe there’s some underlying cause.”

“Do you want me to come with you when you talk to him?”

“No,” she offered a grateful smile, able to see the concern in his expression, “thank you though. I just don’t want him to feel cornered. I know he’s scared and worried. But you know how he is … he feels like he needs to be able to fix everything, or at least have an answer.”

“He’s always been that way. He’s so eager to help everyone else, but when it comes to helping himself …” Drake trailed off and Alexandria nodded in understanding.

“I’m hoping … based on our conversation this morning, that he will be more than open to the idea of seeing the doctor. But, if I need help convincing him further, I’ll have you give it a go.”

“I’m only a call away.”

****

Liam was in his study waiting for his next meeting. He was seated at his desk; his chin rested on the heel of his palm as he stared out the window. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Alexandria told him he said to Drake the night before. Since leaving her study that morning, it was all he could think about, distracting him during his meetings and phone conferences throughout the day. He was still trying and failing to piece together the missing blocks of his day yesterday.

His fingers drummed against the mahogany surface of his desk as he fisted his free hand against his lips.

I feel like I’m going crazy.

Hearing that he was doing and saying horrible things, but being unable to recall any of them was making him feel as though he was losing his mind.

Do they really believe me when I tell them I can’t remember?

Alexandria’s clear frustration with him that morning made him begin to think otherwise.

But why can’t I remember? What the hell is wrong with me?

With a loud huff, Liam abruptly stood from his chair; he wobbled a little, suddenly feeling a wave of agitation wash over him. That seemed to be happening more frequently now as well, and it was something he had been keeping from Alexandria, at least when he could.

In addition to the lightheadedness; headaches; and memory loss, he often found himself feeling frustrated or angry, sometimes for no reason at all. All of this had been going on for longer than Alexandria was aware of. She was under the assumption this started the day of the council meeting when Liam had surprisingly agreed to discuss alliance options. The truth was that it had been affecting him for at least two weeks prior. The day of the meeting was just when it all seemed to peak, and he began to lose complete control over the situation, not that he really had any to begin with.

Liam didn’t like to ask for help. He was the one who should help others; his role and title gave him that ability. He was a ruler and a husband. And in his mind, he should be more than capable of taking care of his country, people, and his wife. But how could he be expected to help others if he needed help? How could others rely on him if he was the one in need? And everything happening to him now was hindering his ability and causing him to feel even more stressed and frustrated with himself. He didn’t need nor want people coddling him. He was a goddamn King after all.

Liam was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on his door. He called for them to enter and saw Bastien step into his study. “Your next meeting is here, sir.”

****

After a long day, once she had finished with all of her work, Alexandria cleaned up her desk and headed out of her study to go meet with Liam. She was feeling hopeful as she made her way to his study. She had checked in with him most of the morning and afternoon up until Drake had come to bring her lunch and Liam had seemed ok. She was making dinner plans for them in her head, wondering what he would be in the mood for, hoping they could go back to their quarters and just talk everything out over a quiet meal.

When she made it to his study, she gently rapped her knuckles to the door. His deep baritone rang through from the other side, calling for her to enter. When she stepped inside, her heart twinged and a wave of disappointment hit her when she saw Liam sitting at his desk with a glass of scotch in his hand. When he looked up at her giving her that smirk, a feeling of nervousness settled over her. She knew he wasn’t himself. “Liam …”

“My Queen.”

Alexandria left the door slightly ajar as she slowly stepped further inside and up to his desk. “I thought you said ... we agreed we were going to talk tonight …”

“Why can’t we still talk?” He asked before lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sip.

“Liam, I’ve told you I do not want to have this discussion with you when you’ve been drinking.”

“It’s just to settle me, love. I’ve had a very long day.” He spoke in a honeyed voice, something about it leaving Alexandria slightly on edge. Liam rose from his chair and made his way around his desk with his eyes locked on his wife. “Plus …” His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her flush to him, “I have a lot more than talking in mind for us tonight, my Queen,” he smirked before he leaned down, capturing her lips in his in a hard kiss.

Alexandria gently pushed him back, breaking the kiss. “Liam …” she let out an exasperated breath as she shook her head. “I … I can’t talk to you when you’re like this! You promised me we would talk! We need to talk!” She was at her wits ends.

Liam casually leaned back against his desk with a slight look of irritation from her turning down his advances as he crossed one ankle over the other. He gave a soft shrug of his shoulders as he looked down into his glass, swirling its contents before taking another large sip. “So … talk.”

Alexandria stared at him for a moment, feeling annoyed. “Liam-”

“No, you want to talk. Talk, Alex. Say whatever you feel you need to say.” His expression was disinterested as he waved his one hand at her dismissively, his other raising his glass to his lips to sip his scotch.

Alexandria looked at Liam cautiously, not knowing how her next words were going to set with him, whether he was even going to give a damn or not, but she didn’t care. It needed to be said. “Liam ... I think you should see a doctor ...” She studied his expression after saying it, watching it go from neutral to smug as he let out a wry laugh. “I’m serious, Liam. Something isn’t right.”

“Are you saying I’m not right, love?” His brow quirked as an amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “That is not very nice.” He pressed his palm to his chest, feigning offense at her words.

Liam’s blatant disregard for her concern caused her to get even more frustrated. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she spat. But her words only caused his smirk to grow as he let out a soft chuckle, Liam finding her worry to be comical. “The way you are forgetting things, the way you’ve been drinking lately,” she motioned to the glass in his hands. “The way you seem to be flipping some sort of internal switch in the blink of an eye and becoming this completely different person ... I think you need to see a doctor. I want you to see a doctor.”

“I’ll pass,” he scoffed. “I don’t need to see a doctor, Alex. I assure you I am perfectly fine.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. “The answer is no.”

“But, Liam-”

“I said no!” His voice was gruff and stern as he pushed himself off the desk and eyed her coolly. “It would be wise for you to remember that you do not tell me what I should or should not do. And when I say no, I only say it once.”

Alexandria’s jaw tensed as she watched Liam begin to lift his glass of scotch to his lips again. Without thinking, her frustration getting the better of her, she reached out smacking the glass from his hand. The glass fell and the amber liquid splashed across the floor before soaking into the area rug. She watched Liam’s eyes darken and narrow on her before he suddenly reached out grabbing her by the upper arm and yanked her to him.

Alexandria let out a small whimper as she looked up meeting his steely gaze. “L-Liam, you’re hurting me.”

“Did we or did we not have the discussion where I reminded you that you will learn to respect your King? Because I’m pretty certain that we did.” His jaw tensed and his grip on her arm tightened as she tried to twist herself free.

“Let go of me,” she ordered.

Liam gave a tug on her arm forcing her to turn and face away from him. “Pick it up,” he growled, referring to the empty glass.

Alexandria yanked her arm free from his grasp and took a few steps, bending down to pick up the glass. When she rose back up and turned, Liam’s head was cocked to the side with an amorous smirk, Alexandria knowing that his eyes had been settled on her bent over form just seconds before. She let out a sharp breath and walked to his desk, slamming the glass down on the hard surface, so forceful that it chipped the rim. She turned and stormed out of his study, slamming his door shut behind her.

****

Later that night, Alexandria was curled beneath the blankets, lying in the center of the bed in the guest room of her and Liam’s quarters. The door was locked. Hot tears rolled from the corner of her eyes and over the bridge of her nose before falling onto the pillow as her breath hitched.

He hasn’t been himself. He hasn’t been himself. The words continued to play on repeat in her mind as she closed her eyes. That was the only explanation she could come up with for what had happened earlier. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought up the topic of him seeing a doctor when she knew what state he was in the moment she walked into his study. She knew how he would respond. Maybe she should have just dropped it the second he said no and she sensed his aggravation. But she chose to do it anyway, despite the obvious signs of how the conversation would end. She did it out of frustration and desperation. Desperation to have her husband — her Liam back.

She heard the door to their quarters open and her eyes moved to the clock on the nightstand. It was well after midnight. She swallowed hard as she watched the dim hallway light coming in through the crack beneath the guest room door. She watched his shadow stumble by on his way to their room. She could hear the faint sound of shuffling and grunts, assuming he was changing, before it went silent.

Alexandria found it easier for her eyes to flutter shut now that she knew that Liam was home and safe. And all the while she had been laying in bed, waiting to hear him come home, her mind and heart had been stirring. She was conflicted, but not conflicted enough to a point where she was going to talk herself out of the ultimatum she was going to give him in the morning.

****

Liam let out a heavy breath as his eyes slowly began to flutter open. Once again, that cracking headache throbbed in his head, giving him that all too familiar dreadful feeling as questions and worry filled his mind. Under his breath he unleashed a flurry of curse words to scold himself as he slowly sat up in bed. It had happened again.

Liam groggily stumbled out of the bedroom after brushing his teeth and splashing some water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up more. He slowly made his way down the hallway and when he entered the kitchen, he saw Alexandria standing at the counter in her t-shirt and shorts. Her eyes flickered up from her coffee mug to meet his gaze; her expression was neutral, but her stance and eyes indicated she was nervous.

“Good morning,” Liam spoke as he approached her, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Alexandra pulled slightly away from his kiss. “Good morning.” With a puzzled expression and a growing sense of dread, Liam stepped behind her to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Alexandria moved quickly around to the other side of the counter, not wanting Liam behind her. After yesterday’s incident, she needed to be able to see Liam at all times. She hated feeling this way around him, but Liam’s mood swings had suddenly instilled this fear in her, leaving her to wonder what to expect each time she saw him. She wanted to talk about the day before, wondering when needing to tell her husband about his actions and behaviors had become their new normal, but she was frightened. Her fear at his reaction to her suggestion that Liam see a doctor lingered; the way he grabbed her and spoke to her replayed in her mind.

Liam turned with his mug in his hand, waiting for the inevitable conversation to start; he knew from his splitting headache and Alexandria’s expression something happened yesterday. Something was wrong. Something he had no recollection of. Again. He stared at her expectantly, but her eyes drifted down to her cup and she said nothing. He had noticed that her eyes looked heavy and puffy, as if she had hardly slept and had been crying at some point. And the look on her face, as if she were afraid to be in the same room as him, caused his anxiety to start to heighten; he wondered what happened. What did I do?

Then he saw it.

Peeking out beneath the sleeve of her t-shirt, he saw the edge of a purplish-blue blemish on her skin. Liam’s brows furrowed as he set his coffee down and rushed to his wife’s side. He noticed her flinch when he gently took her wrist in one hand; with the other, he pushed up the fabric of her sleeve. His eyes widened in horror upon seeing a bruise that appeared to have been caused by fingers curling too tightly around her arm; Liam dropped her wrist as if her soft skin burned him. His breath became heavy and ragged as his gaze met hers; he felt tears burn his eyes when she nervously looked up at him.

“A-Alex ...” he stuttered, blinking away tears of fear and confusion, “please ... tell me that’s not ... that I ... I didn’t do that to you ...” Alexandria briefly searched his face before looking away from Liam. She said nothing but swallowed thickly. He saw the difficulty she had swallowing her words, or was it her tears? Liam had his answer.

That bruise was from him.

He felt sick to his stomach as he took a step back away from her, covering his mouth with his hand. His eyes grew wide with panic and disbelief. “No … no, no,” he whispered in a cracked voice.

What the hell is happening to me? What the fuck am I doing to my wife?

Alexandria could see the dismay mixed with shock in his expression, knowing he had no recollection of the night before. Again. “What ... what happened? What ... what did I do to you?” He asked through a broken voice as his tears began to fall and his body trembled. Alexandria refused to look at him, Liam watching as her brows rounded and she closed her eyes, fighting back her own emotions. “Please, love ... I don’t ... I don’t remember. I swear I don’t! What ... what did I do?”

After a moment Alexandria took a breath. “I mentioned to you ... that you should see a doctor about what’s been going on. You told me no. I tried to ... urge you otherwise. You had a drink ... and I smacked it out of your hand out of frustration. You ... you grabbed hold of my arm ...” Her voice trailed off as she unconsciously rubbed her marked skin. She turned to fully face Liam. Her tone was low and controlled, but her voice was breaking. “I can’t do this anymore, Liam. I refuse to.” She swallowed hard, shifting her body in an attempt to appear slightly more confident even though inwardly she felt like she was falling apart. “Either you agree to see a doctor … or you sign divorce papers.”

Liam let out a shuddered breath as his eyes darted between her face and the bruise. He took a step towards her and when she instinctively stepped back, he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Oh god, I ... I’m sorry, Alex,” he cried. “I-I’m so sorry.” He continued to whisper the words through his tears, unable to grasp hold of the fact that he had done that to her. He felt her hands on his shoulders and he rested his head against her stomach as he wrapped his arms around her legs, continuing to repeat his apology through broken sobs. He tilted his head up to see her own tears falling as she looked down at him and she cupped his face gently in her hands, a pleading look in her sad eyes. “I can’t lose you ... I can’t. I’ll do it. I promise. Make the appointment. I ... I’ll see the doctor.”

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justabstractthings · 4 years

Text

Pink Delphiniums | Midoriya x F!Reader

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x Female!Reader

Quirk: Nature-control type. You can control nature around you and can grow plants out of your body, but it requires you to use your blood.

Warnings: Angst to Fluff. Cutting. Blood.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello everyone! I wrote this for @bnhaclaimedmysoul BNHA Spring Time Event! It was a lot of fun being able to meet new people! Give it up for them for setting up such a thoughtful and fun event!

Without further ado, this is dedicate to my new friend @sunkissedneptune !!! I almost gave myself away a few times 👀But it was a lot of fun writing Midoriya for the first time and I really hope you enjoy it! Also...

🌺🌺🌺BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! 🌺🌺🌺

It was an ordinary day like any other.

Well… not really.

It was your birthday! Today was your special day and you’ve planned on spending the whole day with your boyfriend. Saying that you were excited for your birthday was an understatement.

This was your special day and nothing was going to ruin it for you.

But life never made things easy for you.

That’s because your boyfriend happened to be Midoriya Izuku, a magnet for disasters and chaos. Big or small. Intentional or accident. Villain or Bakugo. It seemed that your boyfriend was always in the middle of a fight (or disagreement).

But you wouldn’t change a thing about him.

You admired his spirit and his tenacity to make other people smile. While you knew about the secret behind his quirk, you watched as he trained day in and day out in order to use the gift he was given to save lives. He always sought out the truth and put others before him. His personality drew others toward him. That’s how he caught your attention in the first place.

Now here you were.

On your birthday.

Sitting outside a little cafe that was right across from a park.

Waiting for your boyfriend to meet you for your special day.

And he was 30 minutes late.

You checked your phone for the 50th time. Still no text or calls. You felt the slow creep of anxiety running up your spine. This wasn’t like Midoriya. Even if he was running late, Midoriya would make sure to let you know.

With a deep sigh, you decided that a walk around the park would help calm your nerves. It was still a beautiful day and it was still your birthday. You weren’t going to spend your birthday worrying and moping around.

As you were crossing the street, you heard a shrill scream. You looked towards the sound and saw a large man standing over a group of school girls. “Stay away!” one of the girls cried.

He stood a good five feet taller compared to the girls with hard scales surrounding his whole body. You noticed a large tail swishing menacingly behind him. His sinister smile showcased sharp rows of teeth. When you saw his equally sharp claws reach for one of the girls, you shouted, “Get away from them!”

With quick reflexes, you grabbed your knife out of your purse and sliced your palm open. Blood ran down your hand, but the pain quickly disappeared as vines grew out in place of the blood. The distraction gave you the opportunity to have your vines wrap tightly around the villain. With a heavy cry, you threw the villain away from the girls towards the large iron fence that surrounded the park.

“Call for help!” you ordered as you watched the crocodile-humanoid slowly rising.

Your throat constricted as you tried to gulp down the fear rising from your stomach. There were no other pro-heroes around the area. Even with your hero license, you couldn’t do this alone. Crocodile man was too large and too powerful for you to subdue without backup. Something in the back of your head told you to run, hide, anything but fight.

But you weren’t going to let a villain get away.

As you slowly walked towards the crocodile man, you sliced your other palm and splattered blood on the grass by your feet. You felt the soothing connection with the plants around you with the help of your quirk. The branches swayed to your will. The grass grew under your feet. Rose thorns multiplied as they slithered around your form.

Not really how you planned on spending your birthday. But what can you do? All you needed to do was last long enough for the pro heroes to arrive.

Happy birthday to you.

With a loud growl, the crocodile man ran towards you at full speed. You threw your left hand in front of you as a tree branch snapped against the villain’s chest. With a flick of your wrist, sharp blades of grass flew straight to the villain. Crocodile man roared and turned his back to you. He used his back as a shield while the grass bounced off without leaving so much as a scratch.

The villain used his tail to swipe the grass away. Before you knew it, the villain had his arm cocked right in front of your face. With a gasp, you shielded your face with your arms. In turn, tree branches created a form of a shield in front of you. Unfortunately, the villain punched right through the branch shield and landed a solid hit against your arms

Your body flew through the air and landed against a solid trunk. The impact pushed the air out of your lungs as you gasped in pain. Thankfully, the moss growing on the tree grew in size and cushioned some of the impact. Some.

You bit your lip as tears began streaming down your face. Everything hurt. Intense throbbing pain enveloped your back. Sharp pain stabbed against your chest with each breath you took. Your body screamed for you to run away.

The villain walked towards your form as you struggled to stand up. “Stay out business, little girl. Wanted good time. Settle with you.” His sinister smile sent a shiver up your smile.

Your vision began to blur and your head throbbed with each beat of your heart. You were losing too much blood. You cursed as you felt the connection start to dwindle. You just needed to last a bit longer. Just enough for the pro-heroes to show up.

“Not today, jackass.” With a swipe of your knife, blood gushed onto the grass. You pushed through throbbing headache as you raised both arms.

Thorn vines shot out of the ground and wrapped around the villain’s wrists, torso, and ankles. While the vines didn’t cut through the villain’s hard scaled, they held against his insistent pulling until he couldn’t raise his arms. Millions of leaves started surrounding the crocodile man like a tornado. He shouted in frustration as more and more surrounded him until he disappeared behind the leaf tornado.

You did it.

You captured a villain.

All by yourself.

Happy Birthday to you.

As a relieved smile began forming on your bruised face, a sharp pain shot through your head. Next thing you knew, you were lying face down on the grass. You felt the sickening sever of your connection with nature. All at once, the leaves and vines subduing the villain wilted away.

The crocodile man grinned at his freedom and focus his yellow reptile eyes on your vulnerable form. In a few steps, he was standing in front of you. You gasped in pain as the villain squeezed your throat and lifted you to his face. With what little strength you had left, you clawed against his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you fought against the villain. You felt mind slowly losing consciousness. No, you had to stay awake. The heroes are coming. He’s coming. He’ll save you. He’ll be here any minute.

“Weak little girl,” the villain taunted.

‘I’m sorry, Izuku.’

“Y/N!”

The grip on your throat suddenly disappeared and you inhaled a quick deep breath. Before you lost consciousness, you saw a blur of green and felt his warm arms wrap around your body.

You smiled. He’s here.

❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁

For the first time in his life, Midoriya was silent.

Your birthday was supposed to be a happy celebration. He had everything planned out. It was going to be perfect. However, everything took a nosedive when he found out there was a villain attack by the cafe he promised he would meet you at.

When he arrived, his vision bled red as he watched the crocodile humanoid lifting your struggling body off the ground. In a blink of an eye, Midoriya appeared beside the villain and landed a strong blow against his face. He gently pulled you against his chest just as you lost consciousness.

Thankfully, other pro heroes arrived on time. While the pro heroes fought against the villain, Midoriya quickly took you to the nearest hospital. His heart pounded against his chest as he watched your battered body being taken away from him. He numbly waited outside the room for hours.

For the first time in his life, Midoriya was silent.

This was all his fault. He should have texted or called you that he was running late. He should have been there to protect you. He should have been there.

What kind of hero couldn’t protect one person?

Pathetic.

When the doctors left your room, they explained that you suffered from severe blood loss due to the overuse of your quirk.

Weak.

They told Midoriya that he saved her in time.

Unworthy.

It’s been a week since your birthday. The day Midoriya almost lost you. The image of you dangling against the villain’s grip haunted Midoriya every day and night. It didn’t matter if he was sleeping or not. All he could see was your bloody and bruised body.

Midoriya made his way to your hospital room. He faithfully visited every day; and every day, he would bring the same gift, hoping that it would somehow give you enough strength and hope. He knew that it was your favorite and he researched enough websites to know what it meant.

He stood outside your hospital room as he gripped the gift tightly between his hands. He took a deep breath and pushed your door open. But the sight he saw caused his breath to hitch.

There you were. As beautiful as the day he saw you for the first time.

And you were awake. Awake and smiling brightly at him. Even with bandages wrapped around your arms and dressed in a white hospital gown, you were breathtaking.

“Hello, Izuku.”

Before the gift hit the floor, Midoriya has you enveloped in a tight hug. You ignored the dull ache as you let Midoriya’s presence soothe you. You felt water soak up your hospital gown as Midoriya cried waterfalls. You could hear him profusely apologizing against your neck. You smiled as you rubbed small circles against Midoriya’s back and whispered assurances that you were okay. Eventually, his cries quieted down to soft sniffles.

You held Midoriya a little longer as you looked around the room. Your smile widened.

“Pink Delphiniums.”

You pushed Midoriya away from you as you looked into his watery green eyes. Green eyes that you loved so much. “You remembered.”

Midoriya nodded shyly as he grabbed the flowers that fell on the floor. “They’re your favorite. You also talk about them and how they would grow in a meadow by your backyard,” Midoriya explained. “Pink Delphiniums symbolize youth and renewal, but they’re also meant to-”

“Protect.” You finished for him as you saw him looking down at his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” His shoulders began to shake as another burst of tears began streaming down his face.

You grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at you. “Hey, don’t be sorry. I’m fine now.”

“But you got hurt! You lost a lot of blood and broke multiple bones! Not to mention the concussion.”

“And where did I learn that from?” You scoffed, recounting the number of times you stayed by his side as his bones healed from severe injuries. “I’m fine, Izuku. You saved me, remember? You’re my hero.”

You saw the permanent frown and scrunched brow etched onto Midoriya’s face. No matter how much you reassure him, you knew your boyfriend would worry about you endlessly. That’s just how he is.

And you wouldn’t change a thing.

Midoriya sighed and softly grabbed your hand, scared of breaking you even further. “I-I know I’m not as smart as Bakugo. I’m not as brave as Kirishima. And I’m not as strong as Todoroki. But I promise to keep you safe. I promise to protect you. I promise to keep that smile on your beautiful face.”

Before you could reply, Midoriya had his lips pressed against yours. You felt you butterflies in your stomach and your heart race. Electricity ran from your lips to the tips of your toes. Unfortunately, you didn’t react fast enough before Midoriya pulled away.

When he realized what he had done, Midoriya resembled a tomato. He stuttered apologies and other things you couldn’t understand when he talked too fast.

You rolled your eyes as Midoriya kept muttering to himself. This wasn’t going to stop until you did something. You grabbed his shirt and pulled his closer to you. He finally stopped when you pressed your lips against his own, reciprocating the feelings and promises he made earlier.

When you separated, Midoriya was still red, but at least he stopped.

“So, why were you late for my birthday?” you asked.

This time Midoriya gulped in fear. He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “W-well, I was finishing up from last-minute things for your birthday.” He looked at you with an apologetic grin on his face. You stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He sighed and revealed his surprise. “I planned for us to spend the whole day together. I figured we could bake a cake for your birthday. In the afternoon, we would have a picnic in the small meadow behind your house. Then if you were okay with it, we would go camping and spend the night staring at the stars. Then, in the morning, we would wake up early to watch the flowers bloom. I know it’s not much, but I wanted to do something special for you. Maybe I should have planned something smaller. I wasn’t even sure if that’s what you wanted to do for your birthday. I know it’s cheesy and stupi-”

“Izuku, shut up.” Midoriya clamped his mouth shut as you pulled him into a tight hug. You inhaled his calming scent as you felt his arms wrap around your waist. You hummed as you tightened your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder. As you looked at the multiple pink delphiniums decorated around your room, you knew.

“I love you.”

#bnha spring time #bnha #spring #midoriya izuku #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya imagines #midoriya fic #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #tw: cutting #tw: blood #just abstract things #my writing

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years

Text

Crawl Before You Walk

Part 3

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Warnings: domestic violence, angst, child abuse, death

A/N: this is a hard chapter

Throughout the rest of the day Jake is the perfect gentleman. He walks me to my classes and waits for me after. He even carries my books for me.

“See,” Gemma points out approvingly. “That’s the type of relationship you need." I just grin, feeling like the happiest girl in the world.

“Can I give you a ride home?” he asks at the end of the day as I grab my book bag from my locker.

“Sure. If you want to.” I see Gemma meeting up with her brother down the hall and wave. Sbe waves back, but Harry averts his eyes. Whatever then.

We pull up outside my house and he parks. I sit there for a moment. I haven’t been home in a while and I’m not ready for what I’m about to walk into. Jake must have noticed the change in my demeanor because he places a hand on my shoulder.

“You okay?” I nod.

“Yeah….Thanks for the ride.” He leans over and pecks my lips. I reluctantly get out of the car and slowly make my way up to the old apartment we’ve lived in my whole life.

It’s a duplex, but the other half of the house has been vacant for years. No one can stand living next to my parents and people got tired of calling the cops all the time. I can’t blame them for that. I take the key I’ve placed beneath the mat and unlock the door. Anxiety floods me as I step through, the stench of neglect filling my nose. I see my father in the kitchen. He slams the refrigerator shut, cracking a beer. He’s dirty, unshaven and looks like he hasn’t changed his clothes in days. He sees me immediately and narrows his eyes. He stomps around the island in the center of our kitchen and barrels towards me. I back up.

“Where the hell have you been?” my dad corners me as soon as I close the door, specks of spit hitting my face as he towers over me. I look down and away from him, he hates it when I look him in the eye, I am not his equal.

“With the Styles family dad. I was staying with them,” he shoves past me, raising the bottle to his lips.

“What was that?” I hear my mother shriek.

“Your slut daughter was over at those boys’s house again.” I quickly walk to my room, trying to ignore my mother as she berates me and yells about how if I get knocked up she isn’t taking care of the baby. I lock the door and press my back to it. Sighing, I sink to my knees and wrap my arms around them.

“Who are you?” The officer asks Harry, I see him from the police cruiser I’m sitting in. My father’s already gone, my mother is on her way to the hospital and I am a ten year old sitting in a police car. I haven’t bathed in three days and my stomach is growling profusely.

“I’m Harry. Her friend. My mom sent me to get her.” he hands the officer a note, the officer reads it over before stepping out of the way.

“She’s over there.” I wipe my face, praying he doesn’t notice I’ve been crying. My father is scary and you never know what or when he’s going to go off

Y/N?” Harry is eleven. He reaches out and gently grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet. I follow him willingly and he helps steady me on the handlebars of his bike.

“You two be careful,” the officer calls after us as we ride off into the night.

I cover my ears as the screaming intensifies. I’m hyperventilating, I can’t breathe. I hear things being thrown, the sound of flesh meeting flesh and my mother’s screams. Tears fall from my cheeks as I listen to them fight. I can’t take the fighting anymore. I get up and put my coat on and grab my shoes, deciding to go out for a while.

“Damnit Angela!” I hear my dad shout, and then I jump, dropping my shoes to the floor as I hear the sound of a lone gun shot ring out. I’m frozen to the spot. There’s another shot. And then one more.

I hear my father moving around, I flinch as I hear the sound of him reloading the gun, an old one, that belonged to my grandpa. It was his most prized possession. My mind tells me to run, but fear grips me tightly as I hear the sound of his footsteps coming towards my room. My heart is pounding in my chest.

“Y/N!” he screams through the door. He kicks it in, wood splinters go everywhere. I still can’t move, my eyes wide and filled with tears. Remorse crosses his face, but only for a moment, before he’s seized again with his drunk demons. “I’m sorry.” he aims at me.

And fires.

“I wish I lived here.” I say to Gemma. We’re in her room playing with barbies. I am six, she is nine.

“You can if you want to. My mom and dad love you.” I smile at that thought. Living with her and her family, nobody screaming and fighting, always feeling safe and comfortable. What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of life.

A knock on the door makes us both turn our heads. Gemma's mom stands in the doorway, she looks uneasy, as if she’s wrestling with herself about something. I smile at her. I hope she isn’t mad at me.

“Y/N...Honey. Your mom is here to get you.” the smile falls from my face. I don’t want to leave. But Ms. Styles walks over and gently takes my hand. I wish she was my mom. And leads me from Gemma's room.

“See you at school Y/N.”

“See you.”

I wake up on the floor. My whole body is aching. I grown, reaching for my stomach. I am mortified to find a hole there. “Jesus Christ.” I sob in pain as I try to sit up. I grab the edge of my bed and pull myself up into a sitting position. I take a deep breath and look up.

My father lies in my doorway. His chest isn’t moving. I don’t know where my mother is. But I know what happened. I want to cry. I should cry. But I don’t feel like it. I just stare at his body. It’s over. I think. It’s finally fucking over. Then something else occurs to me. I’m bleeding, badly. And my parents are dead.

I struggle to my feet, staggering against the wall, my shoes left behind, my coat half hanging off of my body. Fear fills me as I step around my father’s lifeless corpse and into the hallway. I see my mom, she looks like she’s passed out, slumped over in her chair. The kitchen and the living room are destroyed. Broken glass cuts my feet, but I have to keep going. I have to get out of here.

I make it to the front door and throw it open, not bothering to close it behind me. There’s nothing there anymore. No reason to shut it. No more fighting. No more screaming.

I walk, my feet are cold, blood dripping through my fingers, five blocks, towards the Styles household. I keep my eyes open and focused on what’s in front of me. I don’t want to think about what I’ve left behind. Not when I don’t even know how I feel about it yet. Regardless of how they treated me….They were my mom and dad….And I loved them. I really fucking did, as twisted as that sounds.

I struggle up the steps to their house. It’s getting harder to put one foot in front of the other, black spots dance in front of my eyes. I don’t have the energy to press the code. I knock. Softly. I lean my forehead against the door, letting the cold wood cool my head, and maybe help me get rid of this headache. I knock over and over and over again, hoping someone hears me.

Gemma's P.O.V

I stop, looking at the front door curiously. I wait and listen, then I hear it again. Knocking, soft and repetitive. I look at my watch. It’s late, one in the morning. Everyone is asleep, we have school in the morning. Cautiously I walk towards the door and flick the porch light on.

“Who is it?” I call out as quietly as I can. The knocking continues, uneasiness settles over me, but something tells me to open the door. That I need to open the door. Now.

Your P.O.V.

The porch light comes on. I hear Gemma call through the door, asking who it is. I don’t answer, I’m tired. I need to lie down. I slump to my knees, my head falling to my chest. I knock. One more time. Hoping she won’t turn me away, I can feel myself slipping back into unconsciousness.

Just let go. I can hear a voice say in my head. Just let go. The door swings open and I fall forward. Before the darkness overtakes me, I can hear Gemma scream.

“What do you want to be when you grow up Y/N?” Harry asks me. We’re at the lake. This is the first time I’ve ever gone fishing in my life. I’m not very good, but Harryis a good teacher. I am thirteen, he is fourteen.

“I know what I don’t want to be,” I say. I bring my pepsi to my lips and take a long sip. It’s very refreshing as it is nearly 100 degrees on this beautiful summer day. Harry waits patiently for me to continue. “Drunk and angry like my parents.” I look over at him with a sad smile. He nods in agreement.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

“Me too.”

“I wish there was something I could do.” He said this to me a lot. His sister did too. They hated it when my mother came to pick me up, nearly having to drag me out of their house every time. “I always feel so helpless,” his fishing rod jerks, he begins to reel it in. Our conversation is forgotten for a moment as he pulls up a catfish. “Look at this!” he shouts excitedly. I think it’s gross.

“Throw it back,” I say with recoil. He dangles the fish close to my face. I laugh. “Come on.” he pulls the fish off the hook.

“Sorry fishy.” he says before gently placing it back in the lake. I look away unsure if he had killed it while he was taking the hook out.

“Did it swim away?” I ask. He pauses for a moment before shrugging.

“Yeah. It got away.” He picks up the cooler that sat between us and his pepsi. “Let’s go home. I’m hungry and mom’s making Gemma's favorite tonight.”

Third Person P.O.V

Everyone is exhausted. Gemma'’s scream had everyone out of the beds and in the hall in seconds.

“Y/N!” Gemma cries out, falling to the floor beside a scarf pressed against Y/N's wound. The grey fabric darkens with blood.

“Harrt.” his eyes flicker to his mother, she has tears in her eyes. “Harry call the police now.” Harry nods, darting from the hallway and into the kitchen, confusion and guilt filling him as he dials the number.

“Hello? We need an ambulance….my friend’s been shot.” He quickly gives the operator the address and rushes back into the hall. His father is holding his mother, who’s sobbing, a look of absolute heartbreak on her face. Gemma's shaking Y/N, trying to wake her. Y/N’s lips are turning purple, the rise and fall of her chest is slowing. Harry bites his lip and punches the wall in anger, startling his mother and earning a glare from his father.

He walks down the hall and begins to pace, placing his hands behind his head, tears roll down his cheeks. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t know what happened. All he knows is if he hadn’t lead her on and then rejected her, if he hadn’t given in to the secret thoughts he’d had about her, she would have been here. At his house sleeping. Not lying unconscious bleeding all over their hall floor.

Gemma rides in the ambulance with Y/N. Harry and his parents follow behind. Y/N is rushed into emergency surgery. No one suggests going home and coming back later. Y/N is like a daughter and a sister. They will stay with her. They will be there.

“How is she?” Anne asks the doctor. A police officer stands beside him. The doctor shakes his head.

“She lost a lot of blood….Would you be willing to donate? Are you type A?” Harry walks up, placing a hand on his mother's shoulder.

“I’m type A. I’ll do it.” The doctor nods appreciatively.

“I’ll tell the nurse and bring you in, in about five minutes.” he walks away. The police officer clears his throat, snagging Harry's and his mother’s attention.

“I’ve gone over your statements. You seem like good people. Taking this girl in….We went to her parents house as you suggested….” he hesitates, not wanting to tell them what happened. It’s one of the worst crimes he’s seen in years.

“What happened?” Harry jumps, he didn’t notice his father walking up behind him. Gemma is dozing in one of the chairs.

“It appears to be a murder suicide….Both parents are dead.” Anne gasps, covering her mouth with her hand, his father wraps an arm around her, holding her tightly. Harry feels sick to his stomach. “The place was completely destroyed….The girl...Y/N...He door was kicked in.”

“Oh my God.” his father says in disbelief. “That crazy bastard finally did it.”

The doctor finally returns, he motions for Harry to follow him. Harry sits down and rolls up his sleeve. His eyes are burning, he’s exhausted, but he’s going to do this. He’d do anything for Y/N. He loves her. Maybe he fucked up, maybe he encouraged her, but never in a million years had he come close to losing her. His best friend.

“Ready?” The nurse asks. Harry nods, closing his eyes as the needle pierces skin.

“You can get Hepatitis.” Gemma says rolling her eyes. Harry laughs, shaking his head.

“No you can’t. And besides, you’re my sister. We have the same blood.” Gemma points at Y/N, who stands there with her finger out, a bright drop of blood on the end.

“She doesn’t though.”

“That’s kinda the whole point Gem. We’re making her one of us.” Harry pokes his finger and hands the small tac to Gemma, who does the same.

“Okay. We’ll be blood brothers,” Harry says excitedly. The push their pointer fingers together, smearing each other’s finger with their blood. They’ll always be together now.

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