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ghostussy · 1 year

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Forced Bliss

Copia x Insomniac, Chronic Pain reader

/ / /

First off, I am so sorry for the lack of content lately. Life has kicked me in the metaphorical dick about a million times this month. And on top of everything else, I’m dealing with arthritis and depression flare-ups thanks to the changing weather. Please, take this fic as a peace offering. <3

Also if anyone has any advice for managing arthritis throughout the night, it would be greatly appreciated! Mine keeps waking me up and I am tired lol

TW: Mentions of chronic pain, insomnia, high emotions/sobbing, breakdown

. . .

It was late at night when you went for a stroll in the Abbey; much too late for anyone to be awake, save for the ghouls. They were always up to something mischievous; sometimes it seemed as though they never slept. You could hear their faint shouts from down the hall, confirming that they were awake and causing trouble, as usual. The sounds of chaos provided a small comfort, serving as a small reminder that others resided in the building and that you were not alone.

Of course, it was too late for you to be walking throughout the cold Ministry halls as well, and you predicted that Sister Imperator would have your head if she discovered you. Still, you kept walking; you should be in bed, but you found yourself unable to sleep. The few moments of rest you had gotten were fitful, and plagued by nightmares. Of course, these nightmares were unlike the ones you had seen in movies; there was no thrashing, no calling out into the night; and certainly no one to comfort you. You had felt the panic set in slowly, strategically burning at the edges of your mind as you fought through your sleepy haze. Finally, you had woken up, gasping into your pillow. You had clumsily dove to your side table, frantically searching for the switch to your lamp and knocking over anything that got in your way. You felt yourself spill a glass of water, tossing papers, nudging your glasses and medications until they fell onto the floor. By the time you had finally managed to turn on the light, the table and the surrounding area was a mess. You had stared at it for a moment, the panic beginning to subside. Then, you eased yourself onto the floor and began to sob quietly.

After a few moments of this, the room that once provided a sanctuary to you felt suffocating. Now, here you were, walking aimlessly, trying desperately to clear your head.

As you crept down the dim hallways, you noticed how beautiful the Ministry was at night. The moon shone through the windows, casting a faint glow all around you. Altars sat alongside the walls, the still-burning candles illuminating dancing shadows down the hallway. You approached the window, looking outside into the courtyard. You looked up, gazing lovingly into the night sky. It was a clear night, and the stars peppered the sky, almost as if the universe had it’s own set of freckles.

You sat there for a while, longer that you’d intended; eyes transfixed on the sky, you were unaware of your surroundings.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a small cough from behind you.

Turning around, you were met with a very tired-looking Copia, dressed in his usual sweatsuit. His makeup had been washed off, and sleep was in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was soft and gruff, as though he had just been woken up from a deep sleep. “Hello there, cara. May I ask what you are doing out of bed so late?”

You stammered, panicking at having been caught. “O-oh, my deepest apologies, papa! I was simp, ah- simply going for a walk, is all. To, uh, clear my head.”

He continued to look at you with raised eyebrows, and you felt as though he was staring right through you in search of the truth.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted tiredly after a moment. While this wasn’t the only reason to be out of bed, it was still technically the truth.

His gaze softened as he looked at you. “Oh, ragazzo. You poor thing. You must be so tired, si? Come, please let me help you get back to sleep.”

“Oh, no, papa, don’t worry yourself. Please, go back to bed. I will return to my bedroom as well.” You faked a small yawn, hoping he would buy it.

He gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and you flinched at the sudden contact. “Little one, you are still shaking. Please, allow me to provide you some comfort.”

You pulled away, and he moved his arm so you could easily do so. “I’m not shaking. I’m okay, papa, really. Thank you for concerning yourself with me, but I am alright.”

He rubbed the side of his face with one hand before looking at you once more. “Y/n. I am an old man, and I am very tired. Let’s cut to the chase; one of my ghouls sold you out. I know that you haven’t been sleeping well, and that you are haunted by nightmares. I also know that tonight has been the worst so far. So please, come lie down with me.” He cupped your face with his ungloved hand. It was warm against your skin, and he rubbed the soft tip of his thumb in circles along your cheek. You melted into the touch, wishing for a moment to be held in his arms; after all, you knew that he would hold you safely and securely, allowing you to sleep soundly for once. After a few seconds, you pulled away, coming back to your senses.

“I-”

“Yes, you can, and you will,” he urged you gently. “Now, come lie down, and get some proper rest for once. That is an order from your papa.”

You sighed in defeat. “Okay.”

. . .

It wasn’t long before Copia had coaxed you into his bed, nestled deep underneath the covers against him. You lay with your head on his chest, arm draped over his stomach. It made you seem needy, clinging to him the way that you did- but you didn’t care. Weeks of poor sleep and nightmares made you desperate, leaving you constantly exhausted. You wondered if you should have fought him a little more, insisted that you were okay and gone back to your bedroom- but part of you was glad to finally be held.

It was dark in his bedroom, but you felt safe in his hold. The two of you laid like that for a while; you found yourself unable to fall asleep, and he refused to rest until you did. Despite being held so gently and being so exhausted, you simply couldn’t sleep. Your mind raced, thinking of anything and everything. What you had done that day, what you would be doing the next day, how you were pulling Copia away from his own precious sleep. You thought of your conversation earlier, how you could have slipped away instead of burdening him with your insomnia. You hoped that in the morning, he would not be too tired to carry out his duties.

After several moments of this, you heard him sigh before he placed a hand on your back. Gently, yet firmly, he rubbed his hand in circles, carefully massaging your tired muscles. He placed his other hand in your hair, combing through it gently and scratching at your scalp. You let out a gentle sigh, wrapping your arm tighter around him and nuzzling your face as close to him as you could get.

“C?”

“Yes, amore?”

Another quiet sigh escaped your lips as he worked into a sore spot. You completely lost your words, only responding with a quiet, “ohhh.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Ah, there we go,” he purred, “I am shutting off that overactive brain of yours. Surely it must be difficult to rest with so many thoughts, si? So please, allow me to assist.” You found his gentle, soothing touches to be overwhelming. Soon, it was all you could think of, and you could do little except lie there and melt into him. Before long, you found yourself fighting sleep, wishing to enjoy the moment longer. Your eyelids fluttered shut, then open, then shut, then open again. “Ah, caro bambino, please. Rest your eyes. I will still be here in the morning; both yours and my own duties are put on hold until you have slept, and slept well. This means that you may rest as long as you need to, child."

"'Kay..." you mumbled into his chest, barely awake. Within seconds, your breathing had evened out, and you had gone lax within his hold. You could feel the exhaustion at the back of your mind, clouding your thoughts as you peered up at him with half-lidded eyes; he looked down at you with adoration, smiling as your eyelids slid shut finally and sleep overcame you.

. . .

You awoke with a gentle start a few hours later, shaking slightly. You noticed it was still dark outside, and groaned in frustration. A familiar pain radiated through the hip you’d slept on, spreading through your leg and into your knee. Looking up, you noticed Copia, who was fast asleep; his face leaning against one of the many pillows he was propped against. His mouth was slightly ajar, soft snores escaping his lips. The shadows underneath his eyes were much clearer now that his face was relaxed completely; you felt terrible for keeping him awake earlier.

One of his hands rested on your back, the other still loosely tangled in your hair. Carefully, you removed yourself from his grasp, whimpering quietly as the pain in your hip increased greatly. He stirred, but didn’t wake as you sat on the edge of the bed. You waited a moment, feeling the pain begin to subside. Flexing your fingers, you could feel that your knuckles were swollen.

You rubbed a fist into your tired eyes. They burned with exhaustion, and you longed for sleep once more; however, you knew that you would most likely not be sleeping again tonight. Every night, it was the same pattern; you would retire early, struggling to sleep for hours; and when you finally found rest, you would awaken only a few hours later in pain. Once you’d awakened, you would be awake the rest of the night. It was a vicious cycle that left you constantly exhausted, and you had grown tired of it long ago.

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes. You quickly rubbed both fists in your eyes, determined not to allow them to fall. You were unsuccessful as your joints ached and your body screamed for sleep. Once they started, you could not stop the steady stream from falling down your cheeks. Once the floodgates had opened, you were suddenly choking back sobs, trying to stay quiet so that you wouldn’t wake the man sleeping close to you. Your whole body shook violently and you doubled over, resting your elbows on your knees and pressing your face into your hands. Your sobs came out forcefully, and you found yourself gasping quietly for air.

“Y/n...?”

Oh, no.

You sat up after hearing his voice. Though you had spoken to him many times, this time it felt... different. You longed once more to be held, for him to soothe you gently. Yet, you had already burdened him with so much. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask so much of him.

Another choked sob forced it’s way out of the back of your throat, and he quickly scrambled out of bed, making his way over to you. He knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his. “Oh, tesoro. What is the matter? Are you unwell? Are you not sleeping well? Please, tell me so that I may help you.”

You were unable to speak; this only worried him further. He reached up and brushed away your tears before pulling you into his embrace. He rubbed your back soothingly, whispering small phrases in a mix of Italian and Latin. You buried your face in his chest, sobbing into him. Weeks of pent-up frustration, sleepless nights, pain, and depression seemed to all come out of you all at once as you cried, tears staining his shirt. He paid this no mind, instead focusing on comforting you as much as he could. You clung to him tightly, as though you had been stranded in the middle of the ocean and he was the only piece of driftwood for miles. Sobs wracked your body, and you shook violently against his strong, steady hold. He truly was your lifeline.

Suddenly, you found your words.

“Cope... Copia...”

“Shh, darling, I’m here for you,” he whispered, “I’m right here, let it out. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

You gripped his shirt tighter. “I’m sorry- Lord, I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean it, I didn’t- I swear, I’m sorry-” He pulled you closer as you fell into hysterics once more.

“Hey now, none of that, okay? You’re going to be okay, alright? I promise, you will get through this. But I need you to tell me what’s wrong, okay?”

Your head bobbed slightly, and Copia wasn’t sure if you were nodding or on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. Probably both.

The sobs slowed, and you finally started to relax against him. “I’m sorry,” you started, sounding sincere.

“Shh, no more of that, now.” He brushed the hair from your face, and wiped away your remaining tears. “What can I do to help?”

“You’ve already done so much,” your voice was choked, desperate. Still, he pressed on.

“Y/n. I want you to look at me.” When you did so, he felt his heart shatter. The shadows underneath your eyes were a dark, deep shade of purple. He saw many emotions in your eyes, and your face was flushed, a slight red color flooding your tearstained cheeks. “I will always be here for you. I know you are suffering. I need you to tell me how I can alleviate your pain, alright?”

“I... I don’t know.”

“What hurts, child?”

“I just... I’m so tired, papa. And I’m sore from sleeping.”

“Oh, dear. Is it the arthritis?” You nodded in response.

“Okay, I can work with that. How about a quick bath? To sooth those painful joints, yes? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You leaned further into him, exhaustion evident within your movements. “Yeah...”

“Or would you like to rest instead?”

You hummed in response, not fully awake.

“I’m going to take that to mean that you would like to rest instead.” He cradled you in his arms, moving to place you on the bed. While you were still in his arms, you whimpered, still in pain. “Oh, dear...”

You opened your eyes, leaning up against him slightly. “Sorry. Must’ve drifted off.”

“That’s alright.” He set you back down on the bed. “I am going to get you some painkillers, and a heating pad. Then, in the morning, we will run you a hot bath. Does that sound good?”

“Hm...”

“Excellent.” He laid you back on the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before standing once more. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

You laid there for a few moments, fighting to stay awake until Copia returned. For once, you found evading sleep to be difficult; and you were grateful.

Not much time had passed when he returned with a bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen. He handed you three pills, which you took carefully; then he used his arms to support you as he placed a heating pad on your hip. When he crawled back into bed, you wasted no time cozying up next to him once more. Instead of laying your head on his chest, you opted to press yourself close to him as you possibly could; wrapping your arms around him, you curled up in the crook of his arm, tangling your legs together. He chuckled, loving every second of your sleep-deprived clinginess. He ran his hand through your hair once more, enveloping you in his loving embrace. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep once more, and stayed that way.

. . .

@lightbluuestars

#I'll do a part 2 later. It's 2 am for me and my sleep schedule is fucked #I tried to stay up late and get up early a few days ago to fix my schedule and it made things so much worse lol rip me #anyways this is very dramatic and self indulgent but my arthritis keeps waking me up so. here ya go I guess lol #copia x reader #papa copia #copia comfort #copia x chronic pain reader #copia #copia x reader insomnia #author is very tired it's been a long few days please forgive me for whatever this is #Hopefully I can manage writing on a regular basis soon #tw: medication #tw: chronic pain #tw: arthritis #tw: panic attack #tw: breakdown #If I missed any tags lmk

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treesusedtotalktome · 1 year

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#traumacore #tw: breakdown #ventcore #please dont repost

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 1 year

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Midoriya-sensei AU

Part 13: Kacchan

Part 12 | Ao3 | Part 14

Look... these past few manga chapters have really fucked with me and some parts of this fic and I'm super mad about it, but alas canon can go fuck itself. Also unreq tdbk lost the poll *sad trombone noise* Anymoo, happy Mido-sensei Monday [is actually tuesday now bc I fell asleep proof-reading] - I hope you enjoy ❤️ TWs for this chapter include: -PTSD -Breakdowns and dissociation -Self-loathing -Accidental injury

'Honey? What time are you going out?'

Upon hearing his mother's question, Izuku removed his headphones and turned to face her.

He was currently cluttering the dining table with his hero analysis notebooks, along with his laptop. Shoto had hired a new sidekick recently—who could adjust the temperature of anything they touched—so naturally, Izuku had spent the morning analysing the quirk in detail. He was heading to Himura Agency soon to visit Shoto, so he wanted to finish up so he could take his notebook with him.

'In about fifteen minutes.' He double-checked the time, confirming his response. 'Why?'

'Do you not want to start getting ready?' She tilted her head to the side with concern. 'I don't want you rushing.'

'I'm nearly done, it's okay.' He assured gently, albeit he could definitely understand where she was coming from. Once he got into his flow state, it was difficult emerging from the other side. 'I'm just gonna finish this page, and then I'll clean up. I've already got my bag ready, and I don't need to get changed.'

He patted his yellow backpack, situated under the table, and smiled. 'Satisfied?'

'Yeah, alright.' She huffed, good-naturedly. 'I just don't want you stressing. I know what you're like. Plus, last time, you rushed out so quickly that I had to clean the table for you.'

'That was one time!' He cried dramatically. 'And I said I was sorry! When will the suffering end?'

'Never.' His mother flashed him a serious expression, before her joking smile resurfaced. 'Anyway, I'm going to the library to return a book for one of my patients. Have fun!'

'You too! If you see Himura-san, tell her I said hi.' Izuku picked up his pen and resumed writing.

'Oh, Todoroki-san's mother?' She paused, stroking her chin, before seemingly realising something. 'Wait, the nice lady with the white hair is their mother? Why didn't you tell me sooner?'

'I assumed you'd figured it out by the fact that Shoto's agency is named after her?' Izuku answered slowly. 'And that she and Fuyumi look really similar.'

'You hush now!' She pouted, walking past him to go put her shoes on. 'I can't believe we could've been sharing embarrassing childhood stories together this whole time. I should go to the library more often. Better make up for lost time.'

'Wait, hang on-'

'Byeee!'

Izuku grumbled as the door shut behind his mother, but didn't dwell on it too much. In truth, he didn't mind what the two women spoke about—he was old enough now where he wasn't affected by people knowing about his All Might obsession, which was his mother's main go-to when it came to embarrassing him—he was just glad they had the opportunity to maybe become friends.

He continued his analysis for another five minutes, before using all of his self-restraint to call it a day and tidy everything away. Once packed up, he grabbed his bag, put on his red shoes, then left the apartment.

It was a decent walk to Himura Agency—around thirty-five minutes—but Izuku wouldn't begrudge a little exercise. The streets weren't particularly busy, a normal amount of bustle for a Sunday, so he weaved through the crowds with relative ease. Once the agency was in his sights, he felt a small smile grace his face, glad of the familiarity.

However, just as he was about to enter, his path was blocked by someone else leaving.

Izuku stepped to the side politely—using the time to quickly type out a message to Shoto, to let him know he was here—but the person continued to shadow over him. He pointedly didn't make eye contact, but frowned at the inconvenience. Why were they standing in the way?

'Deku.'

Instinctively, Izuku flinched so violently that he dropped his phone and jumped a couple of steps backwards.

That voice.

He finally looked up at the person he'd been patiently waiting to pass, only to find spiked blonde hair, familiar red eyes, and an orange and green hero suit that was featured on so many sports brands throughout Japan, he'd have to be living under a rock to miss it.

The hero Dynamight was a household name, after all, but it wasn't him who was addressing Izuku at that moment.

'K-Kach-chan?' The way his voice broke was humiliating, as was the way his body immediately began shaking. For years, he’d been conditioned to react a certain way under the scrutiny of his childhood bully; it made him sick to know their decade apart hadn't changed that in the slightest. ‘W-W-What are you doing here?’

A stupid question. There was a clear reason why the number five hero was just leaving the agency of the number two. ‘Ah, you don’t have to answer that. Of course, it’s obvious why you’re here. In fact, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, as that’s certainly more out of the ordinary. It’s just, I didn’t expect to see you as it’s been years and I’ll stop talking now. I’m sorry.’

Kacchan sighed. Izuku closed his eyes with a wince, anticipating a hit. However, it never came.

‘It has been a while.’

Hesitantly, he opened one eye to find Kacchan regarding him with a mixture of emotions; his eyes were squinted in his usual displeased manner, albeit the anger that had typically manifested when they were children was absent. Izuku wasn’t sure whether that made him more or less nervous.

The silence was agonising, yet he kept his lips sealed. He knew better than to start talking and risk suffering Kacchan’s wrath. Wistfully, he hoped Shoto would read his message and come out to meet him before anything could get out of hand.

Kacchan sighed again. ‘I was actually hoping to run into you at some point. I could’ve reached out sooner, but it would've been weird tracking you down.’

Izuku tilted his head to the side.

‘What?’

‘Don’t sound so shocked.’ As soon as he said it, it became evident that Kacchan knew that what he was ordering was unreasonable. He shook his head. ‘Look, we need to talk. Are you free now?’

Izuku’s head thudded and his stomach dropped with anxiety; he could feel adrenaline pulsing through his body. In the past, he'd learnt the hard way that going somewhere alone with Kacchan was never a good idea—not that he'd ever really had much of a choice in their teen years. Now, he was being given a choice, yet it still felt like an illusion: he knew Kacchan well enough to know that “no” wasn’t an option.

‘I’m just about to see Shoto-kun.’ He pointed towards the agency, hoping that an excuse would be met better than an outright rejection. ‘I don’t really want to keep him waiti-’

‘You know Half n Half?’ Kacchan frowned for the briefest of moments, before bending down to pick up Izuku's discarded phone. ‘Doesn’t matter. Look, it won’t take long. Come on.’

Before he could protest further, a large hand grabbed his tricep and guided him past the building and down the side alley. Izuku tried to level his breathing—in, two, three, four, and out, two, three, four—to prevent him hyperventilating and entering a panic attack. He couldn’t show any weakness right now; he had to be brave.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He can’t hurt you, he’s a hero now. He tried to reason, desperately trying to ignore the other voice that reminded him of everything Endeavour had done to his family whilst working as a hero; of everything that had happened when they were children in the name of Kacchan wanting to be a hero.

He yearningly eyed his phone, still grasped in Kacchan’s hand. There was no calling for help. He was stuck.

After they passed some bins, he was finally released. 'That'll do.'

Izuku's back faced the wall, and he stared up at his old bully. He never did grow much taller; he still had the same colour trainers, and a backpack containing hero analysis notebooks. And of course, he was still quirkless, whereas Kacchan still defined himself through his explosions. Sure, he wasn't as over-excited and sadistic as he used to be, and his face had matured, but that didn't change facts.

Izuku was afraid.

It felt reminiscent of their middle school days: backed into a corner with nowhere to run, while Kacchan threatened to use his quirk on him. The only differences now were that they were older and one of them had a hero licence; and while he was hesitant to admit it, Izuku was also a lot stronger than he had been back then. Briefly, he entertained the thought that maybe—maybe—he could take Kacchan in a fight…

If the latter didn't have a quirk at his disposal.

'You wanted to talk?' He prompted, hoping the other would take the hint and explain, instead of just staring at him. 'What is it?'

'I can't just come out and say it!' Kacchan snapped, albeit there was little bite in it. He rubbed his brow. 'I just… Give me a sec.'

Izuku didn't have much of a choice, so he stayed where he was—body poised and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice—as Kacchan gathered his words.

'I did a lot of thinking over the years, about the way I treated you.' He started, slowly. 'I fucked up. I was a piece of shit.'

Izuku said nothing; he frowned, confused.

Where is this going?

Kacchan let out a frustrated groan.

'I realise now—why I did everything that I did. It's just, you were obviously meant to be behind me... but in a lot of ways, it also felt like you were ahead of me too.' Kacchan paused. 'I didn't like it. I didn't want to see you, so I bullied you to get away from you; to feel superior. I was scared… scared of you. Not in a prissy way obviously, but I hated how… stupidly heroic you were. You'd put yourself in stupid situations to try and help people and it made me mad, because it was supposed to be me whose body moved without thinking. I wanted to protect you from yourself, put you back in your place before you went and killed yourself, but I was wrong for what I did.

'I got my way back then, you failed at becoming a hero, yet I failed in my own goal. I wanted to be on top—I still do—but in order to do that, I have to get better. I have to recognise my mistakes and atone.

'So, that being said. Dek- Izuku… I wanted to apologise.' Kacchan hung his head. 'For everything I did to you.'

Izuku's body shook, whilst his heart pounded against his chest—so violent it hurt; his nails dug into his palms from how hard he was clenching his fists. He didn't know what to think—which probably reflected in his dumbfounded expression—it just didn't make sense. All these years, he'd had nothing, then suddenly… this? Kacchan was… sorry?

'Ha. Good one, Kacchan.' He laughed hollowly, then quickly slipped past the blonde with the intention of leaving. If this was some kind of elaborate prank, then he wanted to get a head start before he became the punchline. 'You almost had me. Anyway, nice seeing you, but I really have to go.'

'I mean it.' Kacchan didn't shout, but his voice carried; firm. 'I'm sorry.'

Izuku stilled, throat swelling as he forced his emotions to remain at bay. At first, he wouldn't—couldn't—believe it, but now he was faced with reality: Kacchan was actually apologising.

He wanted to ignore him. He wanted to keep walking. He wanted to forget this ever happened.

He didn't do any of that.

'You're not serious?' Izuku murmured, lips feeling foreign, as he turned around to face him. 'Is this a joke?'

Kacchan met his eyes and growled.

'Do I look like I'm fucking joking?!'

Izuku's arms shot up to protect himself, but the threat never came.

'Shit.' Kacchan at least had the decency to look guilty. 'Calm down, I'm not gonna hit you, and I'm not joking. I mean it.'

Izuku slowly lowered his arms.

He was conflicted. He knew he should be happy with the apology—it should be cathartic and he should admire how much Kacchan had grown. The right thing to do would be to forgive him, but as compassionate as people thought him to be and as much as he tried to be kind, resentment sprouted from the pit of his stomach.

'Why?'

'Why?' Kacchan echoed, sounding physically pained. 'I just told you why! It was a whole speech!'

Izuku's pulse drummed against his temples; his jaw clenched. Distantly, he heard a vibration.

'Cut the bullshit.' The words were out of his mouth before he could comprehend them.

'Hah?!' Kacchan started to exclaim, then caught himself, lowering the volume. 'It's not bullshit.'

'It is. It's all excuses.' Izuku gripped his hair and shook his head, surprised by his own nerve. He wanted to tell his brain to shut up. He wanted to forget this interaction all together—what was he doing? 'If you're s-sorry, then just say it. Don't try to justify it.'

'But I need you to understand why.' Kacchan argued, like it was obvious. 'I was trying to-'

'You've had a long time to think about this, to try and rationalise it.' Izuku interrupted, eye twitching from barely-repressed anxiety. He couldn't get his voice to stop trembling. 'But at the end of the day, Kacchan, y-you bullied me because I was- am quirkless.'

This time, it wasn't him who flinched.

'That's… that's not…'

'Isn't it?' He smiled wobbly. 'It wasn’t because I was useless D-Deku who couldn't fight back?'

His throat closed up, betraying him. 'I was an easy target. You say wanted to protect me from myself? You were my worst nightmare, and we both know that if I had a quirk, you wouldn't have done what you did.'

He had so many scars, so much mental baggage that he was still unravelling with his therapist after several years. He might not look after himself as well as he should sometimes, but that was irrelevant right now; it was always the same insults being thrown at him.

Useless, quirkless Deku.

'You d-don't need to pretend you did it with honourable intentions.' He shook his head slowly. 'If you genuinely regret what you did, just tell me. I might not have much self-preservation… but I don't think I deserve excuses.'

He bit his lip, waiting for a reaction. Initially, Kacchan remained silent, staring at him. Izuku wasn't sure if he was thinking of a response or waiting for something. Again, he could hear an indiscernible vibration.

'Okay.' Kacchan finally responded. 'No excuses… I- I'm sorry.'

A beat passed, then another. Izuku wanted to feel something, yet his mind—despite the adrenaline going through his body—felt numb.

'I accept your apology.' He forced his mouth to move, keeping his resolve. 'Th-'

'Midoriya?'

His head whipped around so fast his neck clicked. Shoto was walking towards them, slightly rushed and phone in hand. The first aid supplies on his belt clicked together from the momentum, as did his boots against the concrete.

When he came to a stop in front of Izuku, those dichromatic eyes scanned him carefully. 'Are you okay?'

He nodded, not trusting this voice.

Shoto's shoulders slumped with relief, then looked past Izuku to see who he was with. His eyes immediately narrowed. 'Bakugou? What are you doing here?'

Kacchan scoffed.

'Dek- u- Izuku and I were just having a private conversation.' He answered brashly. 'None of your fucking business, Half n Half.'

Shoto stepped past Izuku, putting himself between him and the blonde. It was almost a defensive shield, which he had to admit, he was grateful for.

'Then why have you got Midoriya's phone?'

Izuku's eyes widened—the vibration sound he had been hearing on and off—Shoto had been ringing him this entire time?

'Because he dropped it.' Kacchan stepped forward, holding out the device, which Izuku hesitantly took. 'Fuck off with the interrogation, Todoroki. I thought you hated cops, so stop sounding like one.'

'I don't need to be a pig to worry about my friend.' Shoto quipped, before switching his gaze to Izuku. 'Midoriya, are you ready to go or should I give you another few minutes?'

The idea of spending another few minutes alone with Kacchan was enough to make him feel nauseous, but he also didn’t want to convey that in his answer.

Don’t cry. Be brave. Don’t show them how weak you are.

‘Yeah, I’m ready now.’ He spoke quietly. ‘We’re done now, right, Kacchan?’

Crimson eyes regarded him carefully, before he waved his hand dismissively.

‘Whatever. I’ve said everything I needed to say anyway. I’m going home.’ Kacchan strode past them, towards the main street. However, before he could disappear completely, he called back. 'I've changed, Izuku. I won't ask you to believe me, but just… watch me, and I'll prove it to you.'

Izuku didn't reply, other than a slight nod of acknowledgement, and Kacchan made his exit with a grunt. Now that they were left alone, he felt a new sense of numbness wash over him; his eyes glazed over; his muscles refused to move.

Panic consumed him briefly. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't feel in control of his own body, yet instead of fighting it, all he could do was succumb to the way his senses slowly shut down. His mind soon followed after, rescinding the last of his perceived independent thoughts.

Powerless. Useless Deku. Weak-

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Shoto was in front of him again, but Izuku couldn’t focus. It took several seconds of silence before his friend cursed. ‘Shit, okay. Let’s get you up to my office… Can you still hear me?'

He couldn’t speak, but he did manage a slight nod.

'That's good. Okay, one more question: are you comfortable with me carrying you?’

Izuku nodded again, eyes falling shut of their own accord. He wasn't sure why he was acting this way—his episodes usually manifested into hyperactivity—but he couldn't even begin to analyse his behaviour right now. All he could do was focus on Shoto's body as the hero guided him into a piggyback and lifted him up with a slight grunt.

His arms rested on Shoto’s shoulders, while the strong hands under his legs held him up. Izuku's chest pressed against his friend's back—he tried to concentrate on the temperature contrast, which manifested into him resting his forehead against the left crook of Shoto's neck.

The warmth felt safe.

Had he not been stuck in his head, Izuku would have definitely panicked over their proximity. Instead, his body welcomed the touch with open arms; it was grounding. It also helped that Shoto didn't stiffen or reject him. He encouraged Izuku.

'I won't drop you, but try to hold on.' He murmured gently. 'Ready?'

When Izuku nodded, Shoto bent his knees, then jumped into the air, using fire from his left foot to send them higher. It didn't take long before they landed on the agency balcony, and Shoto slid open the door to his office.

Izuku kept his face firmly pressed against his friend's neck, until he was gently coaxed to sit down on the tatami floor and shed his backpack from his shoulders. He felt significantly lighter without it—his body had gotten used to the weight—but he didn't let the uncanny feeling linger for long, before he returned to nothing.

'I'm still here.' Shoto assured him gently. 'Just give me one second.'

The world was bright when Izuku tried opening his eyes in response, and he winced. Before he could squeeze them shut and resign himself to darkness again, Shoto pulled the hanging curtain framing the balcony door half-shut, bathing them in a dimmer, manageable light.

Izuku exhaled—the closest he could come to conveying his thanks—then watched as Shoto moved around the room, looking in drawers, on shelves and even Izuku's own backpack. Eventually, when his friend approached him once more and knelt in front of him, his arms were full.

'I've got some things that I know help me when I have a catatonic breakdown.' He shuffled slightly. 'I know this probably isn't the same, but yeah. And I know it's rude, but I also got some stuff from your bag because you've mentioned before that you have comfort items in there. Try to let me know if you're uncomfortable with anything.'

Shoto waited a moment, before taking two large pillows, placing them behind Izuku and switching on a remote, which made them start vibrating softly—like a purring cat. He then picked up a fluffy cream blanket and wrapped it around Izuku's body like a cape, making sure to cover most of his front too.

Izuku found himself leaning back against the materials, which cushioned the wall behind him, as Shoto started playing rain sounds from a portable speaker. He then handed Izuku his favourite All Might-themed stress ball that he always carried with him.

It was practically a reflex, the way his hand closed around it and started squeezing.

‘Th-Thanks.’ He spoke, matching each syllable with his wrist movements. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. ‘Helps.’

‘I’m glad.’ His friend replied. ‘Do you want to stay like this for a while, or do you want to try some grounding exercises?’

Izuku was aware enough to recognise that he wanted to escape this feeling as quickly as he could, but realistically, he knew that he needed a little longer.

‘F-few minutes.’

‘Okay.’ Shoto slowly got to his feet. ‘I’ll just be at my desk doing some paperwork. I'm not on-call, so take as much time as you need… unless there's suddenly a national emergency.’

On a normal day, Izuku would've laughed.

For the next half an hour, the office was quiet, if not for Shoto's fingers on the keyboard and the tropical storm playing from the speakers. Izuku, for the most part, clung onto the mindlessness—not wanting to acknowledge what had happened nor what was currently happening—but soon, his internal monologue started to resurface; it never liked being quiet for long.

He supposed he'd have to face everything sooner or later.

‘Shoto?’

His friend looked up from his computer, then locked the screen and approached him once more. He sat down in front of Izuku, crossing his legs and tucking his hair behind his ears.

‘You ready to do some grounding exercises?’ He waited for Izuku’s nod, before continuing. ‘Okay, you probably know this one, but can you tell me five things you can see?’

He did know this exercise—he’d applied it to both himself and his students in the past—so the familiarity was comforting.

‘Y-you.’ He started with the obvious. ‘Bookcase… bonsai tree… computer… charred table.’

‘Good job, but don’t worry about the chabudai.’ Shoto’s cheeks darkened slightly. ‘Four things you can feel?’

Izuku had always been sensitive to touch, despite what his high pain tolerance might've implied, so he felt more confident with this one.

‘Stress ball, blanket, pillows… tatami.’

‘That was a lot quicker.’ Shoto furrowed his brow. ‘It’s good touch, right?’

‘Yeah.’ The corner of Izuku's lips quirked up for a moment in an attempt to be reassuring. 'Thank you.'

His friend nodded his head in acknowledgement.

'Three things you can hear?'

'Your voice.' He began, without giving it much thought. 'The rain noises… and my own voice.'

He was slowly starting to feel more like himself—his movements became fluid as he squeezed the stress ball, and his eyes were more focused than they had been. It wasn’t like being trapped in a bubble, it was more like a viscous liquid had been clouding his surroundings and was finally starting to evaporate.

'Two things you can smell?'

'Peppermint.' Courtesy of the teapot next to him. 'And you. The room smells like you.'

He desperately wished his filter would return before he could embarrass himself further. Luckily, Shoto didn’t seem to mind the comment.

‘That makes sense. After all, I’m the only one who works in this room.’ He paused for a few beats. 'Okay, last one: one thing you can taste? Don't worry if you can't think of anything. You've done really well.'

Usually, when Izuku was the one asking, he skipped that final sense. After all, most people would just reply with a confused “the inside of my mouth?”, but he supposed it was worth acknowledging.

'I…’ He paused as his taste buds identified iron. ‘I can… I can taste blood?'

Ignoring Shoto’s concerned look, Izuku poked his tongue around his mouth, until he found a freshly bitten wound. 'I must've started chewing the inside of my cheek at some point without realising… It happens a lot, I just don't usually register what I'm doing till after the damage is done, but it's nothing to worry about.'

His friend’s worry didn’t seem to dissipate upon hearing that, but after a few moments, he ultimately decided to let the issue slide.

‘That’s a conversation for another day.’ Izuku wasn’t sure which of them Shoto was promising that to. 'At least you're more vocal now. How do you feel?'

That was a loaded question. How was Izuku supposed to begin answering that?

Shoto seemed to read his thoughts. ‘That was a bad question. I’ll be more specific, what’s the first thing that comes to mind when I ask, “how do you feel”?’

‘Shit.’ Izuku snorted without mirth. However, that seemed to be the gateway for an elaboration. ‘I’ve never reacted this way before. It’s always been more erratic, not… yeah. I hated it. I couldn’t control my body.’

‘I can understand that.’ Shoto was earnest. ‘The first time it happened to me was during a training session with Endeavour when I was a child. The stress was too much, so my body shut down… only okaasan could get me out of it, but it took hours. I barely remember it, only that I was scared.’

‘That sounds awful.’ Izuku lowered his eyes.

‘Yeah, but my point isn’t to gain your sympathy, it’s to show that you’re not alone.’ Shoto paused. ‘You can talk to me… about anything.’

Izuku gnawed the inside of his cheek, before forcing himself to stop damaging the already wounded area.

He trusted Shoto—he really did—but he didn’t deserve to listen to Izuku’s turmoil; his friend had gone through so much worse that his own struggles paled in comparison. However, he remembered some of their earlier conversations, and how Shoto never flinched when he’d explained his failed dream of becoming a hero. He thought about all the times his friend had been open with him and accommodating when he spoke.

Izuku trusted Shoto… so maybe he should trust that he knew what he was signing up for.

‘I just… seeing him again after so long and with no warning.’ He began, trying to piece his words together. ‘I told myself to just get through the interaction, but I didn’t expect to spiral like this.’

‘I should’ve told you he was at the agency.’ Shoto pursed his lips, guilty. ‘It wasn’t scheduled in or anything, but when he showed up, I should’ve messaged you.’

‘It’s not your responsibility—you didn’t know I’d react that way. Plus, if I’m your friend then I guess I should’ve been prepared to run into him at some point.’ Izuku was quick to argue, but when he took a breath, he couldn’t help but sigh. ‘As you’re probably aware, we weren’t exactly best friends… Well, we used to be, before his quirk came in and I was diagnosed as quirkless.’

Shoto nodded deliberately, prompting Izuku to continue.

‘I used to follow him around a lot—he was familiar, and I didn’t really understand that I wasn’t wanted anymore—and soon, Kacchan started to make it more obvious that he didn’t want me around. He had a lot more friends—ones with cool quirks that would obey him—and I was… pushed around a lot.'

He intentionally omitted the specific details: verbal taunts and physical attacks. He didn't want to incriminate Kacchan more than he already had. After all, it was in the past now.

Izuku pressed his palms to his eyes. 'I just… I admired him so much—he had a great quirk and the bravery of a hero, and we both loved All Might—but… but I hated him.'

His voice turned into a whisper. 'I really did, and that somehow made everything worse because I really tried not to. Heroes aren’t meant to hate people… But I kept trying to placate him, hoping that he’d leave me be, but when it came to applying for high schools, I just couldn't simply make him happy.’

'He told you not to apply for UA, right?' Shoto asked, albeit it was obvious he knew the answer.

'Yeah.' Izuku replied anyway. 'Things got unbearable when I refused. The things he'd say, the things he'd do.' He swallowed thickly. 'It doesn't matter. When he got into UA and I didn't, that was it. Everyone laughed at me, because I never stood a chance in the first place. After we graduated, I never saw him again… until today.'

Ten years…

It had been so long, and as much as he tried to forget, he couldn't. He still had nightmares; he still flinched at loud, sharp noises; he still struggled with his self-worth.

He still had the scars.

His throat prickled, but he persevered, pulling back and staring at his hands instead of Shoto; he couldn’t bear to see his reaction just yet. 'He took me down that alley—I didn't want to, but I felt like I didn't have a choice—and I thought he was going to hurt me; follow through with one of his old threats- I shouldn't say that.'

He sighed, frustrated at himself. 'Anyway, instead… he apologised to me. Actually apologised. Like, it wasn’t a joke! I should've been happy. I should've forgiven him.'

Izuku dared not continue that sentence. Admitting it out loud would just solidify that he was a bad person.

'But you couldn't forgive him.'

Izuku broke.

For the first time today, tears built up, breaking the surface tension and running down his face without restraint. An accompanying sob escaped his lips and Izuku finally allowed himself to cry. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, like his reputation implied: he brought his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms to muffle his already quiet sounds—just like when he was little and tried not to draw attention to himself.

Part of his mind was screaming that even this was too much; he couldn't cry like this in front of anyone, not alone Todoroki Shoto. What would he think of him? How could Izuku show just how weak and pathetic he really was?

Yet those thoughts only led to more tears; more baggage to throw onto the already crushing pile.

He held his breath then, trying desperately to quell the crying, but it was futile. He only succeeded in making himself lightheaded and congested. His nose started to run and saliva built up in his mouth.

'I don't know how best to help you.' His friend admitted, just loud enough to be heard over Izuku's own thoughts. 'But I do know that it's okay to cry. I'm not judging you.'

How was he supposed to respond to that? Shoto was so kind; so understanding. He wasn't disgusted or disdainful.

But he should be….

'Would you-' Shoto hesitated. '-erm, like a hug… or something?'

Izuku's eyes immediately shot up to stare at him, exposing his gross face in all its glory.

'W-w-what?'

Shoto didn't seem put off by the snot and tears, albeit he did rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

'A hug, would you like one?' He clarified, confirming that Izuku had indeed heard him correctly. 'It's just… I'm not good with words, but I know physical contact can help alleviate pain. So I thought I'd offer.'

If this were a typical day, Izuku would turn bright red, stutter so much that he couldn't get his words out, and probably overthink to the point of exhaustion. However, this wasn't a typical day; while his face was blotchy and his mind was both overthinking and exhausted, he couldn't fathom his awkward crush right now.

In front of him was his friend—whom he adored in a way so unique—offering comfort, and Izuku was starving.

'Please.' He whispered, blinking as more tears stained his cheeks. He then wrapped his arms around his thighs and rested his forehead against his knees.

He could hear Shoto shuffle closer until they were side-by-side. After a moment, he shifted the blanket to accommodate them both, and slowly wrapped his arms around Izuku; one hand splayed out across his back, while the other reached around the front to cup the side of Izuku's head. Shoto then gently guided him to lean against his chest.

Izuku's entire body moved with him, putting all his weight against his friend, who willingly shouldered the burden with ease. In fact, he even rested his cheek atop his curls.

The relief was instantaneous: his body relaxed—basking in the positive touch—and a fresh sob escaped his lips. Shoto rubbed his shoulder with encouragement; repetitive, but soothing.

Izuku wasn't sure how much time they spent that way—quiet if not for his muffled sniffling—before his friend spoke again.

'I won't pretend to know what you've been through.' He murmured, each word careful. 'So feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I think, if you can't forgive him now, that's okay.'

Reactively, Izuku opened his mouth to counter, albeit Shoto beat him to it.

'And if you can't forgive him in a few months, a few years or never, that's okay too.'

Izuku's words died on his tongue and he swallowed heavily. It was like the entire concept was new: he never even considered a scenario where it was acceptable not to forgive Kacchan. After all, it was what the world preached—forgiveness was part of being a hero.

A sudden thought emerged.

'Have you forgiven Endeavour for everything?' He asked quietly. 'Not that you need to tell me.'

Shoto didn't answer straight away, contemplating the question first.

'No.' While the answer was firm, his tone sounded thoughtful. ‘And that’s okay too. It doesn't make me less of a hero.’

‘You don’t think you’re a bad person because of it?’ Izuku’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, almost jumping out of Shoto’s hold. ‘Not that I’m implying that you’re a bad person! You’re a very kind person and I think you’re amazing! Just… that was a pointless question.’

Shoto blinked once, lowering his arms.

‘He’s changed, which I accept and welcome, and we've moved on, but that doesn’t erase the past and the damage he's caused. I’ve forgiven myself, and that's enough for me.’ He scratched his cheek. ‘So, no. I don’t think I’m bad.’

Izuku nodded slowly. It made perfect sense—it was similar to his situation Kacchan—but convincing himself and rationalising his thoughts was still arduous.

‘I think I understand.’ He wiped away his tears, feeling more at ease. ‘Sorry for being like this.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ Shoto was adamant; unyielding. ‘I’m just glad I could help.’

His small smile ignited a fresh wave of emotion through Izuku—his usual flustered affection for Shoto returning in full force. Mentally, he kicked himself for pulling out of their hug sooner than necessary.

‘Y-you did. Thank you.’ He flashed his own wobbly smile. ‘You’re…’

Perfect, amazing, I think I’m fall-

‘A great friend.’ He finished, admiring Shoto’s reddening ears.

‘You too, Midoriya.’

Falling...

🔥🔥🔥

Me [1740]: Just fyi next time I see you I am going to personally ram my foot so far up your arse you’re shitting icicles for weeks

Bastard Gremlin [1742]: Fuck off Icyhot

Me [1743]: Like I knew you were an asshole but really?

Bastard Gremlin [1749]: Deku told you everything then

Me [1751]: Left out some finer details but yh

Me [1751]: Enough for me to piece together the rest

Bastard Gremlin [1752]: Why do you even care?

Bastard Gremlin [1752]: How do you even know him?

Me [1753]: He's my friend. That's all you need to know, so dont bother replying.

Shoto stared at the screen a moment longer. In truth, he wanted to say more, maybe even follow through with his initial message, but Midoriya would get upset, so Shoto reluctantly put his phone away. However, as soon as it was secured in his pocket, it buzzed again. Rolling his eyes, he took out the device, expecting a snarky retort.

Instead, he was met with a pleasant surprise.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1754]: Thank you for today, really

Me [1755]: You don't have to keep thanking me

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1756]: I know but I want to

Shoto's lips twitched with fond amusement.

'Texting Midoriya again?' Fuyumi commented dryly, not even looking up from the homework she was marking next to him. 'You're both insufferable.'

'You started it.'

Me [1758]: You can thank me by relaxing and going to bed at a normal time tonight

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1759]: I take it all back I hate u

Me [1759]: You love me 😇

Shoto paused then, cheeks heating up as he stared at his message. Why was he suddenly so warm? Why did anxiety pool in his stomach after he sent that message? Why was he getting more nervous the longer it took for a reply to come through?

He was just making friendly banter, like his old classmates taught him, yet it felt more significant when he was saying it to Midoriya.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1802]: I guesssssss 🙄

Shoto immediately felt himself relax; his stomach fluttering in a way that had started to become a common occurrence around his friend. He wasn’t sure if it was a bi-product of his quirk, now that he was using his fire more often, but it was strange that it was only when Midoriya was around.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1804]: Hey, I thought Id ask,you don’t have to or anything, but the HQA information session at the school is on tues and I was wondering, if you’re free, it’d be good to see you there? Even if you wore a disguise or something. Totally okay if not though!

Shoto tilted his head to the side, processing the message. He and Fuyumi had spoken about the session a lot over the past few weeks, but they'd given no indication that they wanted him there—why the change of heart?

'Fuyu-nee, Midoriya's inviting me to the HQA session.' He told his sister, not really sure what he was expecting her to say. 'Should I go?'

'I mean, you can if you want.' Fuyumi shrugged, albeit not dismissively. 'Whether it's supporting him or advocating your own knowledge, it might help. I certainly have no problem with it.'

Shoto nodded slowly in thanks, then turned back to his phone. He supposed in asking his sister, he was really just looking for validation, because of course, if Midoriya was inviting him to something, then he'd happily accept; he was just glad Fuyumi thought he was making the right choice.

Me [1807]: I'll be there :)

#tododeku #todoroki shoto #midoriya izuku #todoizu #izushou #todomido #dekutodo #midoriya sensei au #AgarJelly writes #teacher au #teacher midoriya izuku #quirkless midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #tw: self deprecation #tw: past bullying #tw: breakdown

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damagedward · 5 months

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ኗዐዐዕ ቻዐዪ ሃዐሁ

( ᴳᵒᵈ ᴵ ᵂⁱˢʰ ᵀʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᴰᵒ ᵀʰᵃᵗ )

A storyline based solo featuring @merlin-emrys-wyllt

⚠️ 𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 ⚠️

In case I missed any in tags this does involve unfaithfulness , unplanned child and similar themes so do not read on if these things can hurt you - care for you first 💟

She was breaking , this was tearing her apart , to see him with with her , the one he had saved . Suddenly he hadn’t had time for her , only for this new woman in need . Perhaps she wasn’t broken enough anymore for him , perhaps she’d been a phase , now it was over and what ? Had she truly gone and handed herself to him on a platter for this ?

She blames herself more than him , but more than both of them she blamed this other woman . Freya .

Of course she had magic , of course she was reveling in all that she had now that she had him .

All the work , the effort they’d done , for him and herself . Well she hoped they enjoyed it .

He’s avoided her for sometime now but it seems today that ends as she hears a knock at her door .

“Enter .” She calls from her place on the bed . When she sees just who it is she cannot help but laugh , it’s a cold laugh , a bitter one .

“Erm .. m’lady .”

“Such formalities ,” she scoffs , “are we back to that ? Did we not once share a bed and so much more ?” She’s gritting her teeth trying desperately not to cry , to let her emotions win out .

“Morgana —,” she cuts him off then , she doesn’t let him try to fix this .

“No . No Merlin . It’s fine , you know what good for you , good for you finding someone worthy of your time and efforts . I should’ve known it was all lies ,” she finds she enjoys the way he winces and how he looks hurt , good because if he only knew , the secret she held , what she’d been going to tell him the day she’d walked in to find him lip locked with the other .

She can’t unsee it but what’s worse , what will truly be ingrained in her mind forever is the look he’d had . How his cheeks had flushed a bright red , how he hadn’t been able to meet her gaze , how he’d tried so hard to look sorry , to look hurt as if he hadn’t known what he was doing in the moment .

How he’d stumbled over his words in an attempt to tell her what it looked like as if that hadn’t been blatantly obvious .

She’d not even let him try , she’d cut him off , she’d told him she was happy he’d found someone worth his time . And she’d left them . Left that girl to comfort him . Left that girl to take what had been the only true happiness in her life . What could she do anyhow ? She couldn’t tell anyone , she’d be beheaded in the rolling of justice , especially if they found out this , the secret she now couldn’t tell besides their entire relationship .

She had holed up in her room , she’d thrown everyone into suspicion by that . Even her Father had come to check on her . Of all people .

And now she laid in bed , wrapped in her serving girls arms for some semblance of comfort .

“I think I shall take a leave ..” she mumbles .

The other woman quirks a brow , “My Lady ?” She clearly wasn’t certain what she meant . She runs fingers through long dark curls , holding her tightly around the waist . She hadn’t been able to comfort her friend in so long like this .

“I should leave Camelot , staying will only result in my death ,” she swallows thickly , she couldn’t stay . How would she ever explain this current predicament any how ?

“Morgana - you cannot mean that ? What could you possibly have done that would result in that ?” Gwen asks softly , no judgment in her tone .

“I will hope to tell you one day , but it’s definitely not safe for me to do here .”

And with that they both fall silent . Time passes and Gwen makes to her home to check in and rest .

Meanwhile the emerald eyed beauty finds herself swiping tears from her eyes , wiping them from her cheeks as she begins to pack a small satchel of essentials . Some coin , none in gold as she didn’t wish to be noticed for her money lest it would draw her unnecessary attention .

She throws on a cloak and hood up turns to look at her chambers one last time , the bed one last time , before she slips out silently .

Disappearing into the Darkling Woods and off into the night on the back of her steed from her youth . Her only friend from now on . Or so she tells herself that .

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harveyb-wabbit92 · 2 years

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{Warden Ingo notices Y/n’s been acting very off all day, she has moments where she just zones out and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, He finally has enough and pulls her aside to talk to her privately.]

Ingo: Hey, you’ve got a minute, Y/n?

Y/n: Yeah, I’ve got a lot of minutes, And each one is worse that the one before.

Ingo:...

Y/n...

Ingo: *looking more concerned*

[Y/n’s fake smile falters; she starts crying.]

Ingo: It’s ok...your okay..

{Ingo calmly pulls her into hug and glares at and sends his Pokémon out to scare off anyone who tries to bother them.]

#S: mash #pokemon legends arceus #warden ingo #subway boss ingo x reader #fem reader #tw: breakdown #homesickness #tw: dissociating #submas

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hermioneismyrealname · 1 year

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One OK Rock and Fall out boy on full blast as I lose my head over what else I should. I'm starting to think my parents had a point of confiscating my books when I went back for the holidays...

I overwork myself according to them.

Meh. I'm using studying as a coping mechanism because I am so close to having a break down because I confessed to my friend that I felt let down by her but I also understand she had other shit to deal with so I feel like I can't be mad but I do.

Anyways. My 5 minutes of internet time is up.

#not breaking down #i hate this #emotions #tw: breakdown #im doing ok #let me believe i am doing ok

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doodle-pops · 2 years

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I started thinking again ( anything to procrastinate on packing/moving lol ) on the elves witnessing their s/o have a psychotic breakdown & like ohh shit I don’t think they’d be equipped to handle it. I say this cause I think of my own personal experiences with it & when I had my break downs like people who know of it aren’t still able to really handle it y’know. I feel like they’d love their s/o but the ones like maedhros for example may think it’s something to do with melkor & freakout 1/2)

I agree with the 'they thinking Morgoth got to their s/o". They probably believe that they're possessed maybe. Poor Maedhros is going to be the most terrified of them all, he'd think he was going to lose his lover. More pain and heartbreak for him.

I've had one or two breakdowns before, nothing serious, but I understand what you mean by the fright it brings. They tend to come out from nowhere and just attack, it takes everyone even ourselves off guard. I've heard of some people being out of reality with their breakdowns before, I hope you've never had to experience it to that extent - heard it's devastating for others at that stage.

#tw: breakdown #doodlepops responds

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myworldstilting · 2 years

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im all about that post-breakdown glow

#meme #memes #dank memes #depressed memes #funny #joke #tw: breakdown

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djcarnationsblog · 2 years

Note

James having a breakdown, and just being a ball of sad.

Alrighty then-

Also, this will technically act as a sequel to James and his sleep paralysis bullshit, soooo-

lols

...

This was a joke, this had to be a joke. Right?

He was so calm last time, what could have possibly happened to make him feel so high strung? Was it the laughter? The bodies littering his room corners? The shadows that melted and twisted in deranged, mangled appearances?

His eyes burned, and he curled in closer. His breathing so unsteady, the cackling rang through his head, even though his mind was fully conscious. He trembled and trembled, even when he willed his body to still, nothing worked. He just kept shaking.

Hiccups littered his breath; he could barely take in air to begin with. His hand practically clawed into his throat, that familiar burn and itch as he squeezed his eyes shut and wheezed. It hurt, his chest compressing, squeezing his lungs dry, heart drumming against his chest, static numbness in his head.

Except for that god forsaken laughing.

Why was he so uptight? Why was he crying? Why couldn't he get that laughter out of his head? Why was he fine then, and not now? Why couldn't his brain just shut down, just shut down, and leave him be for fuck's sake. It hurt, he didn't know what hurt anymore, but it hurt.

The urge to puke up his guts was unbearable, sweating profusely and ducking his head between his knees, trying to breathe, hoping to breathe. Just a bit of air, just a bit of air, he needed it, but he couldn't stop crying, hiccupping and gasping.

Why hurt now? Why not all the other times? What did he see in that paralysis again? Why couldn't he remember it!? That unstoppable loneliness consuming his being, sat there all alone. He couldn't even look up, afraid of the tricks his mind will play on him.

It hurt.

Make it stop.

He couldn't make it stop. It needed to stop but it wouldn't-

When would it end? When would the exhaustion finally creep up on him? Mind running miles per second, a dull throbbing in his chest that increased and decreased, increased and decreased. Anything to make it stop. Anything.

Anything Anything Anything Anything Anything Anything-

Just make it stop.

...

Whew, holy shit poor James, poor you-

Oh hey, I just realized I didn't use his name like, AT ALL XD

#DJC Drabbles #ibvs #james blackburn #tw: breakdown #and sleep paralysis #takin' baby steps back into the writing-

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in-love-with-writing-whump · 1 year

Text

Prompt

Whumpee and Caretaker had been through hell and back together countless times, and somewhere between rough beginnings and the present, they'd fallen in love. Whumpee spent years by their side, a stoic right hand who carried out the will of Caretaker, the virtuous leader of the group, making the tough calls, but not without guilt that they admitted to Whumpee behind closed doors. In turn, Whumpee would open up about their own past and concerns. They were each other’s person, matching halves.

Most didn't know about their relationship, not really anyway. There were rumors of course, but given Caretaker's rank, things were mostly kept quiet. A, Caretaker and Whumpee's friend, knew and often was the one spreading rumors, making jokes about how Caretaker and Whumpee embodied the "tall x smol" dynamic.

One day, Caretaker dies in a battle of some sort, and despite Whumpee's efforts, they can't stop them from bleeding to death. A watches with utter horror, openly bursting into tears as Whumpee closes Caretaker's eyes.

The rest of the group grieves quietly, busy tending to their wounds, not paying much mind as Whumpee and A take Caretaker's body to a nearby building where they can retrieve it later for burial.

For the first time ever, A sees Whumpee fall apart, kneeling before them, crying violently. They find themself at a loss for words, Whumpee's screams of agony the only sound in the building.

The only difference the rest of the group seemed to notice when they returned was that Whumpee's cloak/coat was a bit larger. Only A knew that it was Caretaker's name inscribed on the inside.

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tarnishedxknight · 9 months

Note

🌪 (to Noah)

What should have been quiet time alone in his quarters had quickly escalated into a sudden fit of rage, with Noah unable to control his emotions. Being alone in this place, with only his thoughts, had led his mind to very dark places...

What did Larsa think when he just... suddenly wasn't there? Had he thought Noah had died? That he was captured by someone? Imprisoned somewhere? And when he never turned up again, what then? Had he thought he abandoned him? Just like Basch abandoned me?

No. No! The thought... the very idea... that Larsa might have felt abandoned and betrayed by Noah did terrible, agonizing things to him. His heart sped up into a panic, his mouth went dry, and he broke out into a cold sweat.

And what had become of Basch? Noah would never know. He deserved to have the chance to tell Basch exactly what he thought of him, to rage at him for what he did to him and to their mother, to call him out for the coward he was, for the bad brother and poor son he was. Basch deserved to know how hated he was! He deserved to know how much he'd hurt Noah! He deserved to know...

...how much... how so very much... Noah loved him.

Fuck.

In a blind rage, Noah picked up the flat screen TV, ripping it right from the wall and throwing it to the ground with a loud crash. He then broke all the chairs in the room. Even the large plush one, he turned on end and hurled at the wall. He flipped his bed over and tore through the linens and pillows with his bare hands. He pulled down the bookshelf with a crash. He shattered the mirror in the bathroom with his fist. All the while yelling loudly like a man possesed... and not realizing that the sounds of his breakdown were reverberating through the walls o those outside...

#illbringthechaosmagic #alt muse: noah #{ unwilling avenger } ᵐᶜᵘ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ #tw: panic attack #tw: breakdown

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ghostussy · 1 year

Text

Solitude

Papa x depressed reader, offering soft comfort. you decide which

TW: Mentions of a mental breakdown, depression, that sort of thing.

. . .

heartbroken, depressed, drowning in schoolwork and seasonal depression is punching me in the dick. y’know how it is. enjoy!

He wasn’t sure what was wrong.

He noticed your pain in a little bit of everything; your tone of voice, the way you were soft spoken, your refusal to make eye contact. Each day, you rose late and retired early. You often brushed off meals, mumbling that you weren’t hungry. Why? Nothing had happened as of late that would cause you to be struck with such sudden sadness. Every time he asked you about it, you would shrug him off, insisting that you were fine.

Maybe you were unwell. Winter was coming, and the flu season loomed dangerously around the corner. Maybe you had caught a bug that had made its way throughout the ministry? If so, then he needed to know your needs so that he could plan accordingly. Did you need any medications? Ice packs, heating pads? He decided to stop by your quarters to check in on you; you had informed him that you were going to sleep early tonight, before dinner. This was nearly an hour ago.

When he arrived at the hall where your bedroom was located, he was shocked to see Aether and Swiss. “Hello, ghouls.”

Swiss looked at Papa. “Y/n is upset.”

“Oh, dear. Have you spoken to them?”

“No.”

“We can smell it,” spoke Aether, “it’s been going on for weeks, but tonight has been the worst so far.”

“Well, carry on then, ghouls. I will check in on them.”

The two ghouls exchanged a nervous glance, then turned and began to walk down the hallway together. Papa could hear them whispering.

He decided to ignore them and turned towards your door. He lay a clenched fist against the soft wood, preparing to knock. He stopped when he heard sobs. They were small and short; as if you were attempting to muffle them, though you were doing so poorly. Now he was concerned. He knocked a couple of times.

“Y/n?” he called through the door. “It is your Papa. Is everything alright?”

The sobs suddenly became choked, finally stopping after a few seconds. “Y/n?” He suspected you were trying to ignore him so he would not think you were in your room. Of course, he knew better; he cracked the door a bit. “I am going to come in,” he warned, “the ghouls have informed me that you are unwell.”

That got your attention. “O-oh, no Papa, I’m okay, really- you don’t need to come in, I’m okay.” Your voice was trembling. He ignored you and opened the door all the way, walking into your room.

“Your definition of ‘okay’ is very different from mine, child.”

Upon walking into the bedroom, he saw piles of clothes on the floor; empty cups littered the bedside table, and your vanity was a mess, being covered with random items. You were curled up on the bed, halfway covered with unkempt blankets, the few stuffed animals you owned lying on the floor. Your back was facing the door, your arms covering your face. He made his way to your bedside.

“Oh, amore... please, tell me what is wrong.” You felt the bed dip as he sat behind you, placing a hand on your side. “I would like to help you.” His voice was soft, gentle. It made you feel safe, like you could tell him anything; and you could, really, but you needn’t burden him with your troubles. Surely he had his own to worry about.

“It is nothing, Papa. It is just... a headache.” You cringed at the lie. It was overused, but hopefully he would take the bait. “You do not have to worry.”

“Oh, cara. Forgive me if I do not believe you. This is more than a simple headache, si? The ghouls tell me you have been unwell for weeks.”

You were silent.

He continued. “You do not have to tell me, mio bambino. It is alright. Perhaps we shall get you something to eat instead? Sister tells me you skipped your meals today.”

You wiped away a silent tear. “I’m not hungry.”

“Nonsense, child. Please, allow me to fetch you something.”

“No.”

Your harshness caught him off guard. Still, he sat with you, pondering ways to help. Obviously something was bothering you; though he knew not the reason. He ran his hand up and down your side, trying to offer some comfort. He could feel you tremble beneath his touch.

He heard another choked sob leave you. “Oh, tesoro...”

“Get out. Please,” you managed. “Please. Just go.”

“Absolutely not.”

You curled yourself into a ball, pulling away from him. He pulled his hand off of you, allowing you some space. Still, he did not leave, and you said nothing more to him.

He began to hum quietly. You recognized the tune. Shortly after, he began to sing.

“Call out in the middle of the night / for when else would I hear you? / Fall out in the cold starlight / I can save you if you do / You will never walk alone / you can always reach me / You will never ever walk alone / Call me little sunshine.”

You relaxed at the sound of his voice. He sounded so gentle, so genuine... and yet, you were here, being mean to him. Pushing away from him, telling him to leave when he only wanted to help... The thought of your actions made you want to vomit.

“Light up in the middle of the day / for how else would you see me? / Ease up from the hunter to the prey / and transform indefinitely,” He reached over, moving the blankets to find your hand. When he did, he held it gently in his own gloved hand, rubbing circles into your palm. “You will never walk alone / you can always reach me / you will never ever walk alone.”

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it. “Call me little sunshine.” He finished. Tears welled up in your eyes. He placed your hand back down and stood. “I will leave you, cara. Do let me know if you need anything.” He started towards the door. When he reached it, he heard you call out to him.

“Papa.” You sat up, and he caught his first look at your face; it was reddened, your cheeks stained with tears, eyes red and swollen. You looked dreadful. “Papa, I- I am so sorry,” You choked out a sob. “Come back, please, I’m sorry. Please don’t leave,” You begged. “I’m so sorry.” You scrambled to sit up, and he was by your side in an instant. “I’m sorry.” Desperation was evident in your voice.

“Hush, bambino, shh. Take a moment, collect your thoughts. Take a deep breath. In, and out. It’s alright. Take a deep breath for me.” He sat back down on the bed, this time right next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, enveloping you completely. “In and out. There we go.”

You relaxed into him more than you had intended, practically collapsing into his chest. Heavy sobs wracked your body, and you found it difficult to take the deep breaths he was encouraging you to. He took note of this. “It is alright, giovane, let it out. It is okay. You do not have to hold back,” he encouraged. He rubbed a hand on your back as you brought a hand up and gripped his ceremonial robe, trying to ground yourself. Tears fell freely from your eyes, staining the fabric. You felt as though you had lost your grip on reality completely; unable to focus, all you could think about was your unrelenting pain, and how nice it felt to be held during your moment of weakness. You knew that you would regret allowing yourself to act like this around your superior later; that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was pulling yourself together.

After several moments, your sobs began to slow. Your tears were running out, and the lack of energy and food was beginning to catch up with you. Still you lied against him while he rocked you back and forth, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You were so overwhelmed and exhausted in this moment, you allowed your eyes to drift closed for a moment. The sobs finally stopped, and you were able to breathe normally for once.

Eventually, he began to pull away, much to your dismay. Immediately you missed his warmth, longing once more to be held so gently. You sat up on your own this time, rubbing balled fists into your burning eyes; trying to muster the energy to do something, anything else, or to at least be able to crawl into bed to sleep the remaining bits of sorrow away. “My, cara mia- that was an beautiful display of emotion. Surely you must be getting sleepy, yes?” You nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence.

He stood, then leaned over you once more. He carefully brought you into his arms into a bridal carry. You didn’t resist; even if you wanted to, you had no energy left to do so. You dropped your face into his shoulder, tucking your arms on top of your stomach. “You will rest in my quarters tonight, where I can keep an eye on you. Then in the morning, we shall discuss this further.”

You hummed in response. It wasn’t like you were in any position to argue with him anyway.

You had already drifted off in his arms by the time he reached his bedroom door. A ghoul passing by in the hall opened the door for him, not so much as raising an eyebrow in question. He, too, had felt the pain emitting from you over the last few weeks.

Papa brought you to the bed and laid you on it, pulling the covers up over you. You didn’t respond, quiet snores leaving your mouth. He crawled underneath the covers as well, doing his best not to disturb you. He lay there for a moment, admiring your sleeping face before turning out the bedside lamp.

He hoped that in the morning, you would be willing to discuss what had caused your meltdown. He also knew that he would need to make sure you were well aware that you could come to him with anything, even if you felt it wasn’t important. Until then, the two of you would rest peacefully, side by side.

#tw: breakdown #tw: depression #tw: panic attack #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ghost x reader #papa x reader #drabbles

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