#a panic attack in the bathroom and then woke up with a migraine the next day so i called off. and btw this same manager | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

hey Steph, really adore your blog. I saw your ask about s3 and s4 John and his anger. do you have any pics that deal with that? I think his anger is caused by his jealousy. he loves Sherlock and is deeply insecure about S's love for him. I'd love to find some fics that actually deal with all of that. thank you. x

Hey Nonny!!

I DO!!! Been waiting for another ask to finally get this list up and out! Hope you find something you enjoy on this one! <3

ANGRY / CRANKY JOHN

See also:

Jealous John b/c of Other People

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Texting, Humour, Fluff, POV John, Cranky John) – A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.

And, Usually, He's the One Who GIVES Me a Headache by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,315 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV John, Cranky John, Headaches, Head Massage) – A migraine is never fun.

Hallucinations can't open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose.

The 3x John Carried Sherlock, and Once ViceVersa by ShinkonoKokoro (K+, 1,673 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friendship, Three and One, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Worried Sherlock, John Gets Shot) – It happens more than he suspects.

Baskerville After Dark by Ttime42 (T, 1,921 w., 1 Ch. || THoB, Friendship, Humor, Bed Sharing, Missing Scenes, Cranky John, Cuddles) – John and Sherlock have to share a bed at Baskerville. Gen, but can be preslash.

Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) – “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

Nothing Left Untouched by ForeverShippingJohnlock (K+, 2,617 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Romance, Bed Sharing, Oblivious Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Grumpy John, Fluff and Cuddles) – Sherlock rearranges the flat. So what if John's bedroom is now a research library. It's not like John needs a bedroom, he can share with Sherlock. They're friends and John has obviously slept in close quarters with men before and it's not like Sherlock sleeps much anyway. It'll be fine.

Those Days by StillWaters1 (T, 2,663 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD / Sensory Attacks, Caring Sherlock) – If Sherlock had danger nights, then these were John's danger days.

Extraordinary by ardenteurophile (T, 2,739 w., 7 Ch. || Angst, Pining, Romance, Second Person POV Sherlock, Pre-Slash) – Sherlock tries to understand his preoccupation with one Doctor John Watson - the one case he can never solve.

BBCSH 'The Comfort of Company' by tigersilver (T, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF/Mary, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Bed Sharing, Grumpy John, Touching, Clingy/Handsy Sherlock, Cranky Sherlock, Fluff and Light Angst) – It's a trope that John and Sherlock end up sharing in the same bed eventually and I admit I do adore it unconditionally, along with all it infers as to the lowering of defenses and the heightening of trust. I put forth for your consideration that the notion persists because those who think about these things realize these two men are each in dire need of some good company.

Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series

Bathroom Accessories by Evenlodes_Friend (E, 3,324 w., 1 Ch. || Sex Toys, Butt Plug, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Horny Sherlock, John’s Patience Wears Thin, Humour, Bottomlock) – John discovers that Sherlock has been playing with some very adult toys in the bath.

After the Bombs by VampirePam (T, 3,337 w., 2 Ch. || THoB AU, Drugs, John’s PTSD, Panic Attack, Nightmares, Caring Sherlock, Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – In which the drugs Sherlock used to dose John trigger a severe episode of PTSD. When terrors old and new cause John to fall apart, Sherlock must rectify his mistake and pick up the pieces.

Breakfast, acronyms and brotherhood by Rose de Sharon (K+, 4,074 w., 1 Ch. || TBB Fic, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Fluff) – Set after The Blind Banker: my take of Sherlock and John's conversation over breakfast. S/J friendship, bromance, no slash.

Afghanistan in Baskerville by Amaya Ramiel (K+, 4,357 w., 1 Ch. || THoB Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drugged John, PTSD / Panic Attack, Hallucinations, Worried Sherlock, John’s Past, Friendship) – What if John hadn't seen the hound when Sherlock trapped him in the lab? What if instead, his very real nightmares of the war had materialized all around him? Trapped and drugged, John can't tell what's real and what's not. How will Sherlock react?

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart (T, 4,743 w., 1 Ch. || PTSD, Character Study, Rescue, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Trauma, Danger, Drama, Kidnapping/Captivity) – The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side.

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

This Year by DiscordantWords (T, 6,283 w., 2 Ch. || TEH Divergence / No Mary, New Year’s Eve, John’s A Mess, Jealous John, Awkward Conversations, Trapped in a Closet, Estranged After Return, John POV, Semi-Reunion, Angry John, First Kiss, Reconciliation, Clueless Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Last year, Sherlock Holmes showed up at the Landmark with a fake moustache and a bad French accent and threw John's entire life into disarray with two words: "Not dead." This year, there are more surprises in store.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

BANG by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 7,016 w., 3 Ch. || Post-TGG AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Worried / Scared Sherlock, Alternating POV, Whump, Hospital Recovery, Open Ending) – 'I should warn you,' Sherlock says, his voice steady and his eyes fixed on Moriarty. 'You are sadly misinformed.' And he fires. Prequel to M Is For Moriarty

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5, 798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) – When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalize Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w., 8 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn't count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

To Mend Icarus by AlessNox (T, 28,347 w., 14 Ch. || Post-TRF / Pre-S3 Divergence, BAMF John, Anger, Fighting, Sex, Bed Sharing, Stalking, Case Fic, John’s Past, Introspection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crime, Mythology, Darkness) – After a case lands John Watson in court, he tells Sherlock that he is leaving. Not understanding why, Sherlock decides that the only way to learn the truth is to investigate his flatmate, Dr. John Watson. Sherlock finds that coming back is not enough to fix all of the damage that he caused by leaving. A post Reichenbach, post reunion re-discovery fic.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU || Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) – A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock, John Separated From His Child) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #angry john #cranky john #my fic recs #long post

137 notes · View notes

queenofsquids · 3 years

Text

Too much information below, regarding migraine/personal health.

My neurologist prescribed me three escalating levels of medications. Currently on the second level and desperately hoping it works. I've not yet ever had to use the "rescue" level, which is a suppository to knock you out, and hopefully when you wake up the migraine is over. All I want is to never have to use that, thanks. I mean, I'm grateful to have the option, and next time I'm puking my guts out from the pain and migraine, I'm sure I will opt to use it. Just. Pls no.

I have fairly moderate anxiety, which I have mostly adapted coping mechanisms for. When I was in my early 20's, I had panic attacks. But after a very helpful stint on Xanax, I stopped having them except for a very rare occasion. I mean I'm ~40 years old and I can count on maybe two hands the times I've had one since 25ish.

Last week I woke up suddenly at 3am with a pounding migraine, sprinted to the bathroom feeling the need to vom, was generally shaking like a leaf and disoriented with no clue what was going on because that hasn't happened before. I managed to get down meds and they didn't come back up, before getting blindsided by a panic attack. Definitely one of my worst moments.

I am pretty sure panic attacks get easier to deal with as you get older. I definitely have a presence of mind that it's an attack and I'm not actually dying now that I've lived through a bunch of them, you know? As soon as I realize what's going on, I do breathing control (I talk or sing) and get through it. I just didn't realize what was going on for longer than usual that night because it was the middle of the damn night and migraine/nausea/brain fog. What the hell body!

And that night was in the middle of a six day stretch of headaches. I'm still recovering from that, and another headache today is making me real bad mad for reals.

I feel as if I can't get anything done in between headaches. I'm always surprised when I read my own blog and realize I am still crafting stuff despite it. That's kinda nice.

13 notes · View notes

treksickfic · 3 years

Text

The City on the Edge of Forever

I’m so excited to share this with you, anonymous requester! After you sent in your prompt, I had another anonymous reader get in touch with me to let me know they’d already written a story that matched your wishes exactly.

The author of this story is French, not a native English speaker, and they’ve written a beautifully touching story that expands on the TOS episode, City on the Edge of Forever. I am posting it here on my blog, with their permission, because they do not wish to have an account nor have their identity attached to the story. This writer has already become dear to me and I’m honored that they trusted me with their writing. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s a long story, nearly 3,000 words, so RIP to your dash if you’re on mobile. I didn’t want to post it on AO3 or anywhere else except my blog, which feels safer.

Trigger warning for panic attack and trigger warning for some mild emeto, if you’re sensitive to that. It’s not very graphic.

“James Kirk, I demand an explanation!”

Scotty, Uhura, the teleportation technicians, and the security guards were completely dumbfounded by the doctor's explosion. They watched the captain stagger off, livid, as if he had been punched in the stomach. He disappeared without a word, with long stiff steps, from the room.

“Jim!” yelled McCoy.

“Not now, doctor.” Spock's cold, dry voice stopped him.

Spock squeezed McCoy’s arm firmly and Scott was sure to read in his black eyes a burst of fury. McCoy noticed it too, because despite the storm of his own eyes, he remained silent.

“Everyone, at your posts,” declared the Vulcan. “Scott, you are in charge for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Scotty nodded, refraining from asking any questions.

As soon as they had come through the Time Gate, seconds after they left, it seemed, but many weeks later for them, he had seen that they were not fine at all. The captain was pale, deaf to their questions, obviously struggling with the tears that filled his eyes. The doctor was just as white, his face contracted with a terrible anger. As for Spock, he kept his eyes fixed on Jim, his usual indifference altered by deep and obvious concern.

What the hell had happened?

This is precisely the question McCoy yelled at Spock, pulling himself brutally out of his grip as they entered his office, safe from prying ears:

“Damn it, Spock!”

“If you calm down, doctor, maybe I could explain.”

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? Shit, Spock! How do you want me to calm down?”

“Breathing. Deep, and slowly. Start by sitting down.”

“Don't fuck with me!”

“The Vulcans don't fuck with people. Now, please calm down.”

Jim killed someone without thought. There's no way I can calm down. Shit!”

Spock gritted his teeth and an aura of icy disappointment emanated from him:

“Jim killed someone without thought...do you get along, doctor? You've been aboard this ship for over a year. You even pretend to be the captain's friend. How can you accuse him of this without thinking for two seconds?”

“I saw it ! He prevented me from—"

“--and your poor little mind preferred to give in to this abject emotion rather than try to find a logical explanation. Jim, the most compassionate man we know…would he have acted like this for no reason?”

These words had the effect of a cold shower on McCoy. He shook his head, gradually coming to himself. He hadn't actually thought for a single moment, mired in a nauseating fury that he hadn't even tried to control. Shame replaced anger and he sagged in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

The past few weeks had been a total blur. He had woken up in a room with antique furniture, with an adorable woman at his bedside: Edith Keeler. It had taken him some time to realize that she was neither a hallucination nor a very good actress, but that he was indeed in a different era. Back in the 1930s. And he had barely had time to figure it out and come out of the bedroom to find answers before Jim and Spock, overjoyed, fell on him.

The next second Edith was dead. And it was Kirk's fault., He had kept him from coming to her aid. It had been too much emotion, too quickly and too soon. He had not managed to digest it, even less to understand anything other than what he had seen:

Jim had killed Edith.

But now that Spock had brought him back to reality, it all seemed absurd. And he noticed certain details: His friend's trembling when he held him; the tears in his green eyes when he leaned against the wall; Spock's unusually soft words when he had defended Jim, "he knows doctor, he knows."

How could he have seen nothing? Holding back a moan, he confronted Spock's stern face again:

“Explain it to me.”

“I'll do it quickly. In the timeline of our current story, Edith Keeler dies in 1930. In the one you walked through, paranoid after the cordrazine syringe accident, her ideals of peace and openness reach Roosevelt's ears and America becomes a peaceful country. That prevents its involvement in the second world war. Germany wins and dominates the world. Our time, therefore, does not exist.”

“Oh.”

“By the time you got there, after roughly locating your destination, we got to know Edith. A very charming woman, particularly intelligent.”

“And, Jim—"

“Was deeply in love with her. But for the good of a whole world and not solely himself, he let her die and prevented you from committing irreparable damage.”

“My god.”

McCoy put his head in his hands, overcome with excruciating guilt. Spock watched him, suppressing the harsh words that itched on his lips. The man had realized his mistake. It was useless to add more in the current state. He sighed for a long time, feeling unpleasantly empathetic towards Jim. He admired the way the man had managed to silence all of his instincts to save everyone:

“You should go see him, doctor. I think leaving him alone right now is not the best solution. Especially since he slept and ate very little while we were on earth, and even less after he realized that Edith had to die. He was ill several times during the night. He needs help.”

“Perhaps it is better ... Chapel—”

“No, Leonard,” Spock said, as kindly as he could. “He needs you.”

McCoy let out a deep sigh. He felt silly, and unforgivable. But for the sake of his friend, and indirectly, the sake of the crew, he knew Spock was right. Grabbing his medical equipment, he left in the direction of the captain's quarters.

*****

Jim rested his forehead against the cool edge of the toilet. The doctor's words were circling in his mind, adding further weight to his overwhelming grief. He felt sick, his stomach as tight as his chest. A discomfort that had become familiar over the past few days. The intense nausea that rolled and rolled, threatening at every moment to overflow was a most unpleasant physical manifestation of his stress.

Despite his efforts to conserve food that was already scarce in their daily life in 1930, there were times when he couldn't do anything about it. Nightmares woke him in an agonizing sweat, on the verge of ruining the atrocious coarse cover of their flop.

He managed each time to sneak into the bathroom before returning the meager pittance with spasms he tried to silence. He also appreciated the discretion of Spock, who had the delicacy of pretending to sleep when Jim returned to his bed several minutes later, breathless and exhausted. But now that he was alone, aboard the Enterprise, he had no reason to contain himself, and did not fight the gagging that came out violently, like revenge for being held back so long. His stomach, however empty, kept revolting, replacing his sobs with endless contractions.

He had barely activated the door to his quarters when they had started, and he had yielded to the spasms with some relief. As unpleasant as vomiting was, his whole body tense and sore as he curled up over the toilet, at least it kept him from thinking about it. Being sick kept his mind on constant alert, focusing his attention on the spasms, gasps, bile, burning and kept the fear away. Unbearable, interminable, but ... secondary.

He coughed cautiously, catching his breath, feeling even sicker from the pungent smell that hung around him…the smell as horrible as the way he felt. This place of suffering and abandonment suited him.

He leaned over awkwardly when the bile passed his throat for the umpteenth time and spilled out in a long convulsion. He grabbed his stomach and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the mess coloring the water again. The dizziness began to build, the light becoming unbearable as a migraine took hold of his temples, seeping through to his sinuses. He shivered, trying to reach for the chase to vent some of his weakness, when a hand rested on his forehead. Incredibly cool, it brought such comfort that he could not suppress a fragile sigh.

Tenderly the hand placed a damp cloth on the back of his neck and then finally came to cover his eyes. There was the terribly aggressive sound of the toilet flushing, then a voice whispering for the light to drop to 20%.

That voice ...

His comfort immediately ceased, replaced by anguish. He coughed sharply, spitting out more bile in an effort to shake off the impending grief. He could do nothing against the intense tremors that made him gasp, nor the panicked sob that burst through the vomiting.

“Shhh, Jim.” The voice was a broken whisper. “Shhh, everything is fine.”

Kirk wanted to yell at him to go away, to leave him, not to hurt him anymore. Irrationally afraid of the anger that had rained over him earlier at the prospect of having to face reality. Instead he could only moan, shaken by a horrible, nauseating cough.

Feeling Jim shake and panic under his fingers, McCoy was crushed by an intense wave of guilt. He had seen Jim gripped with grief, stress, drunkenness, anger... but never so completely. It was the first time he seemed ... broken ... and it was largely his fault.

The abnormal heat radiating from his skin indicated a high fever and explained his lack of self control. McCoy took a syringe out of his bag and spoke in a very soft voice so as not to hurt his friend's headaches.

“Jim, I'm going to inject you with a painkiller, it'll help you relax.”

He had no other answer than a small hiccup and a burst of bile.

Nervous vomiting, McCoy noticed. It was serious. He was going to have to play it safe to get the captain to calm down enough to free himself from his sadness and he hoped the hypo would act quickly. He thrust the syringe into his biceps and took advantage of the slight respite that followed to quickly run the medical tricorder over Jim’s upper body.

The latter told him what he already knew: extreme stress, high fever, deficiencies in iron and magnesium, low blood pressure...nothing to indicate a gastric bug apart from weakness due to deficiencies, which reinforced his theory of psychogenic nausea.

McCoy was relieved to find that the sedative had done its work: Jim was shaking less and seemed more lucid.

“Bones...what--?”

Bones. So he didn't blame him. This man's empathy would kill him eventually, the doctor thought. He put a protective arm around the Jim’s shoulders and another under his chest to support him. He could feel the angry stomach muscles that continued to struggle and tighten. He gave a sad little smile.

“We are going to talk about all this. But first, we are going to get out of this horrible room. You need to lie down.”

“Um, that's not safe,” Jim grimaced with a little hiccup.

“I'll take a bucket, but I want you to lie down. Doctor's orders.”

“If it's an o-order,” he stammered, in a slight attempt at humor.

Jim allowed himself to be helped without opening his eyes, too ill to protest, and too weak to fend for himself. Bones almost carried him to his bed.

Once lying down, McCoy carefully removed Jim’s boots and socks, pulled up a wonderfully warm blanket and put a cloth on his forehead. Then Jim heard the familiar whirr of the tricorder passing once more over his body and finally the sound of several mixes. Careful fingers rested on his right temple.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“Urgh, Bones, I'll throw up if I open them.”

“There is a bucket, don't hold back. I need you to look at me.”

Jim groaned but obeyed. The light, even though very dim, made him moan in pain. It penetrated his head like a blade and triggered, as announced, a violent nausea.

McCoy held him very gently as he threw up a thin trickle of bilious saliva. He fell completely exhausted on the pillow once the attack was over. The doctor muttered something unintelligible and wiped his face.

“I should send you to the infirmary, Jim. You have serious deficiencies and that added to the stress...this is a perfect combination for a migraine in due form. I'll put you on an IV to regulate your sugar levels and give you a strong pain reliever. It should help you feel better.”

Once everything was in place, a tactical, hesitant silence settled between them. Jim could feel his presence, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than a chair, and the warm, warm hand pressed to his shoulder. The exhaustion and sadness rose in power now that the disease could no longer build its walls around his mind. He saw Edith again. Edith and her sweetness, her love, her joy, her magnificent ideas.

"She's fair ... but not at the right time," Spock had said, trying to make her listen to reason when he...he told her that she had to...die. He had desperately looked for another way but...but—

He clenched his teeth, overtaken by the intensity of the pain. By the gesture. He had even been unable to look at her body. He had not turned around, refusing to see what he had just done, struck head-on by the horror and disgust emanating from the doctor.

He swallowed, feeling the tremors start again, the despair skyrocketing. McCoy, hearing the gasps in his friend's tight breath, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“I ... I loved her...Bones—"

A tear gathered in the corner of his eye and he sniffled, trying to pull himself together:

“Jim,” McCoy whispered, his own emotions rising. “I ... I don't even know how to apologize.”

“You have nothing to excuse. You are right. I ... killed her.”

“No. You saved our world. You did what you had to.”

“Oh, you spoke to Spock,” Jim whispered with a bitter smile.

“Yes.”

Despite the darkness, McCoy could see the paleness growing and the captain's face tightening with the effort to hold back the sobs. He searched for a moment for words he could say to alleviate the pain. Not finding them, he shook his head.

Jim tried to speak, with difficulty. “I shouldn't—”

“You have the right to be sad. You just lost the one you love in an act of unimaginable courage. Jim, I'm an overly impulsive old fool, I can't even imagine what you've been through and I sincerely ask forgiveness for this unjustified anger.”

“Please, Bones—"

“No, let me finish. Thank you for your understanding, but you don't have to. I acted like an idiot.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“That's no excuse. I know you and should have taken a step back.”

“What is done is done.”

“Jim, what I'm trying to say is that you must not let my emotionally spoken words get to you. You didn't deserve it.”

“I...I searched and searched...and searched again. I couldn't get away from her even when I knew that—”

“You were in love.”

“No, Bones. I'm in love. A selfish person who regrets choices that he shouldn't regret.”

“You are human, and you are suffering. Let it go.”

Another tear rolled down, then another, and finally it was a torrent that poured into the pillow. The captain put a hand over his mouth to silence the gasps of despair and the overwhelming agony of loss. Bones gripped his shoulder, patting it in a comforting gesture. He watched Jim sob like a child, breathing laboriously through exhaustion and mourning. Then he gradually calmed down until he fell into a deep sleep.

The doctor sighed and wiped away his own tears that had started at the same time as his friend's, and that he had not tried to stop. He readjusted the IVs and scanned Jim’s body for the third time. His fever was still high from a mild viral infection after several weeks in the cold and fatigue undernourishment. Jim would be off for a few days and stay in bed.

When he left the room, the doctor was not surprised to find Spock standing and waiting with arched eyebrows.

“How is he?”

“Exhausted and cold, but fine.”

“Has he been able to express his sorrow?”

“I guess, yes.” McCoy smiled, thinking of his friend's relaxed face as he left the room.

“And were you able to express yours?”

The doctor jumped slightly, not at all prepared for this question, much less for Spock to say it. He was sometimes pleasantly surprised by the well-hidden sensitivity of his Vulcan friend. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it.

“You are about to cry.”

“Damned be your insight, Mister Spock,” the doctor growled, a little annoyed.

“Humans all must cry at one time or another to get better, doctor. I do not understand why you put a manly bulwark in front of this natural mechanism.”

Bones laughed. “Wouldn't you find it embarrassing for me to break down in tears right now in your arms?”

He expected Spock to answer him, "Vulcans don't know the gene, doctor." Instead he replied, in his usual relaxed and serene tone, “If that makes you feel better, no.”

Such compassion was so strange that it almost seemed out of place. Leonard burst out into a frank laugh that turned without realizing it into a flood of tears. Tears of his own sadness this time, not empathy or guilt. Sadness he didn't think he had. Maybe he was also a little in love with Edith after all. And that the Vulcan understood it well before him.

Spock, moreover, did not pretend to leave, contenting himself to stay by his side until McCoy’s tears turned back into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” the first officer asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Mister Spock, because I’m thinking of the absurd spectacle we would have made if someone had been there. The ship's doctor weeping like a baby in front of a motionless Vulcan and their captain's closed door.”

Spock coughed and McCoy would swear to anyone who wanted to hear it that he was blushing.

“Well, you're not a hopeless case,” he said with a smirk, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Spock.”

Then he turned on his heel towards the infirmary without hearing the relieved sigh of his alien friend.

#star trek sickfic #sickfic #TOS sickfic #sick kirk #panicked kirk #emotional hurt/comfort #physical hurt/comfort #emeto #tw emeto #tw panic attack

11 notes · View notes

allthingsfangirl101 · 4 years

Text

Seeing Right Through You–Stiles Stilinski

Requested by babyimbi_bi_bi

Trigger Warning: angst, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, depression, attempted suicide

You never know how much someone is struggling until it's too late. Well, my friends don't know that I've been fighting anxiety and depression since middle school.

It started after a group of girls cornered me in the locker room. After that, they started cornering me a lot more. They'd make fun of my clothes, my hair, and anything about me that didn't fit in with them.

I thought about telling Stiles and Scott, but I knew how they'd react. They would threaten to hurt the girls or get Stiles's dad involved. So, I didn't tell them. I didn't tell them about my first anxiety attack in the girls' locker room that day. I didn't tell them about every anxiety attack after. I didn't tell them about the days that I just didn't feel anything and almost did something so I could.

Every time I have an anxiety attack, I excuse myself. I go to the bathroom, sit through my attack on my own, and compose myself before rejoining the group. And they never knew the wiser. So much for all that werewolf senses shit.

We were currently sitting in the library talking about our latest supernatural problem. I wasn't paying attention because I was trying to stop an anxiety attack.

"Y/N?" Stiles whispered as he reached over and touched my arm.

"I'm fine," I barely got out. I could feel his eyes on me, but I ignored it. I took a few breaths but knew I wouldn't be able to shake this one. I stood up and quickly left the library, ignoring my friends' questioning looks.

When I got to the bathroom, I locked myself in a stall and leaned my forehead against the cold stall door. My hands shook as it got harder and harder to breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in on me and then opening back up just in time to close again.

I sucked in a breath, leaned against the stall, and covered my mouth when I heard the bathroom door open.

"Y/N? Sweetie, are you in here?" Lydia called out.

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat to hopefully sound normal.

"Okay, well, we're heading towards Scott's house. Want us to wait?"

"No," I said quickly. "I'll meet you guys there."

"Okay. Oh! I brought your bag. It's by the sink."

"Thanks."

"See ya."

I let out a shaky breathe when I heard the door closed. I sat on the toilet seat and put my face in my hands as my whole body shook. It took me a few minutes to get my breathing back to normal. Once I could actually breathe, I lifted my head out of my hands and took a few more calming breaths.

I stood up and opened the stall door. I walked over to the sink and turned on the water. Once it was warm, I splashed some onto my face. I grabbed a paper towel and dried off. I threw it away and grabbed my phone from my bag. I opened our pack message and quickly texted them.

To: 🐺 THE Pack 🐺

Me: Hey, guys. I'm not feeling very well so I'm gonna head home instead of coming over and risk getting you all sick. I'll see you tomorrow.

* * * * *

After I sent the text yesterday, I turned off my phone and drove straight home. I spent the entire night in my bed, watching a show I've seen a thousand times on Netflix.

You know what they say; the reason people who suffer from anxiety rewatch tv shows is because they know what's going to happen, and that creates a sense of safety and comfort.

I woke up the next morning and decided to finally turn my phone back on. I sighed when I saw several texts from the pack and about 25 individual texts from Stiles. Instead of answering them, I tossed my phone onto my bed and took a shower.

I walked into school with my head down, not in the mood to really talk to anyone.

"Hey, girly." Lydia smiled as she met me at my locker. "Whoa. . . You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," I stuttered. "Just umm. . . I've been having a lot of migraines lately and. . . And they make me lightheaded."

"Oh," she said softly as she gently moved a piece of hair I must have missed when I pulled my hair back this morning. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"Why would you take her home?" Stiles asked as he and Scott joined us.

"No reason," I tried to say quickly. Lydia sighed as she interrupted me.

"Y/N's been having migraines lately," she explained. "And they make her sick.

"What?" Stiles panicked as he stepped closer to me. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? You do look kind of pale. Let me drive you home."

"I'm fine," I snapped as I took a step away from my friends. "I've dealt with them before, so. . . Can we just go to class?"

The three looked at each other nervously. Stiles and Scott were about to say something, but Lydia interrupted them. "I think that's a great idea. You and I have English first period."

The guys tried to object, but Lydia sent them her "motherly glare" she's grown famous for. "We'll meet you two in Mr. Harris's class."

* * * * *

The whole day the pack continually checked on me, asking if I needed them to take me home. I constantly caught Stiles watching me, acting as if he wanted to say something.

The last class of the day just ended and Scott and Stiles were going to practice while Lydia and I were heading to her house to study.

"Y/N, wait." Stiles stopped me before I could head to my car. He led me over to the lockers, away from Scott and Lydia.

"What's up?"

"I know you're lying," he cut me off.

"What?" I stuttered.

"Come on, Y/N," he sighed. "I know you. And I know when another person is hiding when they have an anxiety attack."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I stuttered as I tried to walk away.

"Y/N," Stiles said looking at me knowingly. "I know you have anxiety. I know you're fighting depression too."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Y/N, I know how you've been feeling lately and I. . ."

"How could you possibly know?" I asked, cutting him off. Stiles's eyes softened when he saw my emotions finally coming through.

I looked down at my shoes, my eyes filling with water. I took a deep breath and the tears immediately stopped. I slowly looked back up at Stiles with a fake smile on my face.

"Y/N, just talk to me." Stiles sighed, trying to grab my hand. I immediately pulled it out of his grasp and took a step back, fixing the strap of my bag.

"Tell Lydia my migraine got worse and I can't make it to her house to study tonight," I said as I quickly turned on my heel and left.

* * * * *

When I got home, I couldn't turn my brain off. I couldn't catch my breath. And I couldn't stop my whole body from shaking. I paced around my room, unable to stop my anxiety attack.

Somehow, Stiles knew what was going on. I've never said anything and I've always been careful about showing symptoms. So how could he know? Is there something about the way that I look that makes it obvious?

Now that he knows, will he tell the pack? If he does, what will they do? Will they try to help or will they ignore it? Will what they do help me or make it worse? Will them ignoring it make it worse or better?

What if they are completely done with me? What if they don't want to be my friends anymore? What if I lose them because I'm not mentally stable?

Before I knew what I was doing, I walked into my bathroom.

* * * * *

Stiles's POV

When Y/N ignored my fifth call and eleventh text message, I decided to go over to her house. My eyebrows furrowed when I saw that her parent's cars were gone, only her car was in front of their house.

I knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. The longer it took her to answer, the worse the feeling in my stomach got. "Y/N," I called out. "Come on. Open up. We need to talk about this. Please?"

I sighed as there was no sound or movement coming from inside the house. I was surprised when I found that their front door was unlocked.

"I thought Y/N always locked the door as soon as she got home from school," I mumbled as I walked in. I looked around, furrowing my eyebrows when nothing looked out of place or off.

"Y/N?" I yelled, waiting for her to respond. "I know you're home. Your car's in the driveway."

I jogged up the stairs, immediately going to her room. I walked inside and looked around, my heart sinking when there was no sign of her.

"Y/N? Where the hell are you?" I mumbled under my breath.

I sucked in a breath when I saw something in her bathroom. "Y/N!" I yelled as I ran towards her. I fell to my knees and gently pulled her into my chest.

"Y/N?" I asked, my voice breaking as I tried to get my best friend to wake up. "Wake up, please. Come on, Y/N."

I shakily reached for my phone, as I held Y/N close to my chest.

"911, what's your emergency?"

* * * * *

I sat in the waiting room, my bouncing knee practically shaking the whole floor. I looked around, finally noticing that her parents still haven't shown up and we've been here two hours.

"Stiles?"

I looked up to see Scott running towards me. I stood up and wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. "What's going on?" Scott asked. "Is Y/N okay?"

"I don't know," I stuttered. "She's been hiding her anxiety and depression from us, Scott."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "I've seen the signs. Some of what happens to her, has happened to me. I've tried to talk to her about it but she just blew me off and said she was fine. I've called her a hundred times and sent her a thousand texts. She hadn't responded to any of them so I decided to go to her house. When I got there, the door was unlocked."

"That's weird," Scott mumbled as he glanced down the hallway towards Y/N's room. "She always locks the door the second she gets home. She's like religious about it."

"Exactly. Her house looked completely normal but I couldn't find her. I went up to her room and. . . I found her passed out on her bathroom floor. . . Next to an empty pill bottle."

"Holy shit," Scott mumbled. We sat down, neither one of us saying anything. A few minutes later, we noticed Scott's mom walking towards us. I jumped up, Scott instantly jumping up too.

"How is she?" I asked before she could even start to explain.

"She's fine," she sighed, a small chuckle leaving her lips. "We're actually very lucky that you found her when you did."

"That's great," Scott said, laughing in relief.

"I just don't understand why she would do this?" I asked under my breath.

"Well," Melissa cleared her throat. "Why don't you ask her? She's awake."

* * * * *

I stood outside Y/N's hospital room, hesitating to go inside. I wasn't sure if I was ready to see whatever state she was in. I took a deep breath before walking in. When I finally opened the door, Y/N slowly looked at me.

"Stiles?" She whispered. "What are you. . . What are you doing here?"

"I umm," I stuttered. "I went to your house when you didn't answer your phone and I. . . I found you. . . I found you passed out on your bathroom floor."

"Oh," she said under her breath. She looked away from me and down at her hands, beginning to play with the edge of the blanket draped over her.

When Y/N didn't say anything else, I sighed and walked over to the chair in the corner. I grabbed it and placed it closer to her bed.

"Y/N," I said gently, breaking the silence. "I've seen through your "I'm fine" act you've been so heavily depending on the past couple of months. I've seen through every brave face, every hidden second of pain. I've seen every time you've walked out on the pack because you were hiding an anxiety attack or depression episode. I know what's been going on and you have to talk to me about it."

"Why?" Y/N asked, barely audible.

"Because you're one of my best friends," I sighed, my frustration building.

"Stiles," she stuttered.

"No," I cut her off, not meaning to come off as harshly as I did. I sighed as I scooted closer to her. "Y/N," I said softer. "You don't have to hide this from the pack. Especially not from me."

"But I. . ." She stuttered, not finishing her thought. I hesitated before reaching over and grabbing her hand in mine. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

"Y/N, I know how hard depression and anxiety are. I know how it feels like you're drowning and can't quite seem to catch your breath. I know that every time you're having an anxiety attack, you go to the bathroom to go through it alone. Right?"

I held my breath as I waited for her to respond. The tears in her eyes finally started streaming down her cheeks as she nodded.

"How did you know?" She asked under her breath.

"Because that's what I do," I smiled as I reached up and caught a tear with my thumb, my hand lingering on her cheek. "I push it down until I can get alone. But you don't have to do that anymore, Y/N. You've got a pack who would do anything to take care of you and a best friend who knows exactly what you've been through."

Y/N finally let out the sob that she has been holding in. I jumped up and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my chest. I held her as she cried, her whole body shaking in my arms.

"I'm sorry," she said over and over again.

"You don't have to be," I reached up and ran my fingers through her hair. "I'm just happy you're okay. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, Y/N."

Y/N pulled out of my arms and looked down at our hands, intertwining our fingers. "I'm sorry, Stiles," she whispered. "I should've told you sooner, I just. . . I should've known my best friend would understand more than most."

"It's more than that," I said slowly as I gathered more courage.

"What do you mean?" Y/N said, tilting her head slightly.

I took a deep breath as I gathered as much courage as I could. When I had enough, I blurted it out. "I love you, Y/N."

"I know," she smiled a little as she looked away.

"No," I cut her off. "No, you don't know."

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. I sat back down and scooted the chair closer to Y/N's bed. I reached over, grabbing her hand in both of mine.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N," I said gently as I studied her face. "I have been since we were in middle school."

"Really?" Y/N asked quietly. I laughed as I nodded and reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Really," I chuckled. "You're more than just my best friend, Y/N. You're my dream girl, the girl I've had my eyes on and never looked anywhere else, the girl I've dreamed about finally being with for years. I'm completely, overly, madly in love with you, Y/F/N Y/L/N."

I held my breath as I waited for her to respond. She looked at me, blinking a couple of times. I was just about to apologize an awkwardly leave the room when Y/N grabbed my face and pulled me towards her. I fell onto the edge of the bed as she pressed her lips to mine.

It didn't even take me half a second to start kissing her back. I felt her smile into the kiss as our lips moved in sync. I broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against hers as we caught our breath.

"I love you too, Stiles," she whispered, breaking the silence. I leaned back to look at her with a goofily big smile on my face.

"Really?" I asked, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She chuckled as she bit her bottom lip.

"Really."

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfic #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine

41 notes · View notes

crazybagelbitch · 4 years

Note

Harriet universe 🥺🥺 kinda a part three but can be a different day/night? Maddie, still being awkward, wakes up screaming from a nightmare and wakes up Howie, Harriet (and Hen if she’s still there) in the process. Chim (already not feeling good for obvious reasons) tries to alleviate some of the tension between them. 🥺

When he wakes up, he still feels the remnants of his headache from earlier. Mercifully, it’s more of a dull ache than the throbbing and stabbing sensations from earlier. His stomach still feels upset, though he’s not sure if that’s the lingering effects of the migraine or the fact that his girlfriend has woken up in bed next to him screaming.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m right--”

He makes the mistake of reaching out to touch her. It’s a rookie mistake, really, one he never would have made if he wasn’t so exhausted and stressed to the point of not being all there mentally. He can’t blame Maddie, not in the slightest, when her hand goes flying to his face.

He should know better than to touch her before her mind is back in the room. He does know better, he just wasn’t thinking and now his nose is leaking blood down his shirt.

“Sorry, sorry, shouldn’t have touched you,” he winces, scrambling to turn on the light, which allows her to get a good look at him. The man in her bed, a man she feels safe with. A man that is currently bleeding because of her.

“H-Howie I-I...” she whimpers, gasping in a way that makes Chimney’s chest hurt, “I h-hit you? I-I-’m so--”

“Daddy? Maddie?”

Of fucking course. As if things couldn’t even be more of an actual cluster fuck. He can’t blame Harriet, either, he knows that. Maddie woke up screaming bloody murder, it’s no surprise that the noise woke Harriet, and from the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, Hen, too.

“It’s o-okay, Hare-Bear,” he tries to assure her, but it’s weak and his own overwhelm is clear as day. That, and the fact that his three year old daughter is seeing his top soaked with blood. Her own wailing starts instantaneously.

Hen, wise and brilliant Hen, only needs one look at the scene in front of her to astutely surmise exactly what has occurred.

“Go. I’ll stay with Maddie. Sort out Harriet and-- it doesn’t look broken, but put some pressure on it so it stops bleeding.”

“I-I’ll be back, Maddie,” he stammers out, stumbling a bit as he goes to pick up his daughter, “it’s okay.”

Chimney’s chest tightens and his heart rate is ramping up, and he’s not even wishing to ward off the panic attack, he knows it’s going to happen. He’s just hoping to delay it until both Harriet and Maddie are calmed down and back to sleep, when both girls that he loves so much don’t need him to hold it together.

“D-daddy,” Harriet whimpers, clutching at his shirt and getting blood on her perfect little hands, “Bleeding. Maddie o-okay? Scared? M’scared, too.”

“Shh, shh, it’s all okay, Harriet,” he murmurs as soothingly as he can, setting her down on the bed before taking off his shirt and balling it up to use as a makeshift issue for his nose, “you know how you get bad dreams sometimes? We all do. Maddie just had a bad dream and... and I was clumsy and fell when it woke me up.”

He decides that that’s the better answer than the truth for a toddler to understand without stressing her out more than she already is.

“Blood. D-daddy’s hurt.”

“Daddy will be okay, please don’t worry about me,” he hums, pulling Harriet into his lap with his free arm, “it’s all okay, Hare-Bear.”

“D-daddy. Maddie,” she sobs, burying her head in his chest.

“Shh, shh. It’s all okay, I promise.”

It’s really not, but again, she’s three.

“C-can I kiss it better?”

“In a minute, when it stops bleeding,” he nods, trying not to cry as Harriet is already trying to climb herself up to kiss his cheek.

She really is the sweetest kid he’s ever met, and he doesn’t just think that because she’s his kid. And right now, in the moment, he feels so undeserving of her adoration. Both Maddie and Harriet are crying and he can’t help but feel like he’s failing them, like he’s not doing his part to guide them through the trauma.

He knows he can’t just magically make what Maddie went through with Doug go away, he knows that, but hearing her scream.. he could be doing better. He should be doing the better.

“I love you, Harriet,” he whispers, hoping she can’t hear the way his voice cracks over her own crying, “I love you so much. The most special girl in the whole wide world.”

“Daddy. D-daddy special, too.”

He hates himself even more for feeling relieved that his daughter cries herself back to sleep.

At least his nose has stopped bleeding. He makes quick stop in the bathroom to clean himself up a bit with a wet washcloth before cautiously plodding back into the bedroom, where Hen is keeping a watchful eye on Maddie as the other woman trembles and whimpers.

“She’s b-back to sleep?”

“She’s back to sleep. It’s okay, Maddie. It was an accident. Didn’t mean to.”

“H-hurt you,” she weeps, “hurt you.”

“It was an accident, just an accident,” he repeats, going over to sit on the edge of his bed, still not sure if it’s wise to touch her yet, “it happens, Maddie. I should have known better than to touch you right away.”

“N-no. No. H-hurt you... shouldn’t h-have to know better, w-what I always thought with him.”

Him. He knows exactly who she’s referencing. She accidentally hit him in a moment of panic, when she didn’t even know they were safe in the bedroom and now she’s comparing herself to her ex-husband who tried to kill them both and he can’t, he just can’t.

He hates himself impossibly more, knowing he’s failing her again when his breath hitches and his whole body feels like it’s on fire, the panic overtaking him.

“I-I’m so sorry, s-so...” he trails off, choking a bit on his own breath, “n-need a minute.”

He slams the bathroom door shut a moment later, turning the lock with shaky hands before sinking down onto the floor.

He’s pathetic.

3 notes · View notes

pi-cat000 · 6 years

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 4)

Summary: Arthur falls off a cliff and lands in the past. Hellbent spoilers.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Part 5: here

The ghost doesn’t care for his struggles, holding him easily in one clenched fist. The area around him burns an angry purple, heavy and suffocating. There’s no doubt to what the ghost intends to do, and Arthur freezes up lest he hastens his demise with a misplaced kick. Below are rows of jagged stone, glowing lavender-grey. The scenery is painfully familiar. Visions of The Cave briefly pull him from one distressing state into another. For a moment the ghost disappears and is replaced with sickly green. Something is sliding into this mind, picking him apart. Couldn’t breathe. Green. Ahead of him Lewis walks, disappearing into churning shadows. He reaches out, but it’s too late. Lewis is gone.

His left hand sparks, sending small shocks through his shoulder. He’s back with the ghost and the cliff, frozen against gravity. His arm is gone and its mechanical replacement is a mess. Still, the sparking pain gives him enough awareness to move it up to hopelessly cling to the ghost’s arm.

Their eyes meet, and even with blurry vision, he knows there is nothing but fury and rage.

A burst of angry purple.

“Lewis?”

The world is fuzzy and he’s falling. Lewis’s glare follows his decent, face unmoving in his hate. He slams onto the twisted spikes, chest breaking open.

And he’s…

He’s lying on his back, staring up at an off-white ceiling speckled with mildew. The fluorescent light flickers once, and he blinks spots from his vision. There’s a hurricane, whipping his memories around, making it hard to focus. Even lying against the cold ceramic tiles, he’s feeling hot and stuffy. Where’s Lewis? What happened to the cliff? For a second he is terrified and sick to the stomach. It tugs him down, threatening to swallow him up. He waits, focusing on the smell of damp towels and occasional water drips, and the moment passes. Carefully, he lifts his left hand and stares, wiggling his flesh fingers around. The bathroom, his bathroom at Lance’s place, is quiet.

Right…time travel…He’s two years in the past.

“Ha,” he exhales. What is his life?

Arthur starts on his breathing: in on four, hold for seven, then eight out. Slowly, he feels out his natural rhythm, and everything around him begins to feel more real. So much for no more freak-outs. He pulls himself upright and explores along his head. No bumps or scrapes so he must have been able to control his decent or had sat down at some point. He doesn’t remember. The blurry vision is probably a side effect of shallow breathing. Not enough oxygen to the brain and stuff. It’s been a while since he’s had a full-on dissociative blackout violent enough that he’s been unable to manually pull himself free with controlled breathing and meditative exercises. A sign that the Lewis Situation has affected him more than he would have liked.

Usually, when he has these sort of troubles, he would talk to Vivi, and maybe Lance if he’s really desperate. Not exactly an option here. Not right now anyway. Arthur leans forward, rubbing his eyes with the base of his palm. He’s still shaky, head swimming, but the fear is tapering off, winding back to its more manageable cousin, anxiety.

Next, he stands, moving slowly to test his balance. Somewhat light-headed, he twists the sink’s tap, running water to splash on his face. As he does, he catches sight of his reflection for the first time since waking up. Their eyes connect, and it’s like meeting a weirdly identical doppelganger.

Two years isn’t a long time. Not long enough to really make any significant changes to appearance. Not at his age. Yet, the person that watches him from the mirror is a world younger. People say that stress ages you, and -now examining his reflection- he’s inclined to believe them. There are no dark circles under this person’s eyes, his face is full, and he’s practically glowing. All indicative of a balanced diet and plenty of sleep. It's strangely unsettling, and he immediately hates it. Hates the younger him for having everything and still managing to be unhappy. For taking everything for granted.

What did younger Arthur have to be upset about? The minuscule chance that Vivi and Lewis would ditch him for some inane reason which had probably made sense at the time? A fear of becoming the ‘dreaded’ third wheel? Forget that noise. He’d settle for not being hated/maimed, watching his friends be happy together and not whatever broken things they’d turned into. Even if the watching occurred at a distance, he would be happy. ‘At a distance’ might even be optimal because the one thing he now knows for sure is this: He is NOT the younger Arthur. He turns abruptly away and exits the bathroom, running a hand over his face as he goes.

And he almost slams into Vivi who’s standing right outside. It nearly sends him straight back into a panic.

“Arthur,” Vivi stumbles back, hand raised as if just about to knock, “Don’t open doors like that. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Hehe,” he breathes out, glancing around. Neither Mystery or Lewis are in the hallway. It’s just him and Vivi. Slowly, he relaxes enough and responds with relief boarding on amusement, “I scared you? You almost gave me a heart attack. Maybe next time don’t stand so close to doors you know might open at any second.”

Vivi snorts, then fixes him with a more concerned expression, “Well, you were in there for a while. I came to check up on you. Was kind of worried you’d drowned in the toilet or something.”

“Uh, thanks Viv, but, as you can see, I have not drowned,”

“So you say…” Vivi rubs her chin, taking in his damp face and hair.

Then one of Vivi’s hands is on his forehead and the other on her own, comparing their body temperatures. He tries to keep his breathing at a normal tempo. It’s still slightly faster than usual, not helped by Vivi’s jump scare.

“You feel a bit clammy, but not overly hot. So that’s good I guess.” Vivi is now staring him right in the eye, face scrunched in consideration.

“I did splash water on my face…”

She leans in close, moving her hand from his forehead to pull at his cheek. So Vivi had noticed something was off. Lewis had probably picked up on his odd behaviour as well. Great. Vivi moves the second hand up to squeeze his cheeks together like she’s trying to reorganise his face. It’s kind of awkward.

“I’m fine,” he tries, batting her hands away, attempting to gauge just how worried Vivi is before saying anything too incriminating.

“You sure? You seem a bit… peaky,”

“Yeah, I mean,” he rubs the back of his head, “I woke up with a migraine this morning. It’s been kind-of distracting and causing a bit of nausea.” Arthur snaps into ‘excuse mode’ with disgusting ease, quickly running through possible causes for his odd behaviour. He taps his head and put on the old ‘everything’s good smile.’

“It’s not bad enough to put off the painting though. You guys were looking forward to that,” It wouldn’t have fooled the other Vivi, future Vivi, who had developed an almost supernatural ‘Arthur bullshit detector,’ as she called it.

“Oh... Is that what’s wrong. You should have said something. It’s not like we’re on a strict timeline so we could have rescheduled,” this Vivi nods in acknowledgement, humming thoughtfully, “maybe you should stay away from the hard labour. Just for today, I mean. Me and Lewis can do the painting if you’re not feeling too good.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” he relaxed back a bit, “I’ll just take it easy,” and maybe avoid Lewis for a little longer because he was so many levels away from ready that he might as well be floating in outer space.

“Actually, I have a new project I’m working on so I’ll probably be spending some time upstairs,” he adds to give himself another excuse.

“Owo, new project,” Vivi lights up, energy returning, “what’s this one about. Are you finally making that ghost detection devise? It is, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s the ghost detection device… Wait,” Vivi puts her hands on her hips, glaring, “is this why you have a headache, because you were up all night.”

His next smile is genuine because Vivi always makes him smile, even when he feels guilty for lying.

“Haha, yeah,” He runs his fingers through his hair, “you got me.”

“I knew it,” Vivi puffs, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. He manages to contain the automatic flinch.

“I told you, water and sleep. It’s the best way to keep headaches away especially in the summer. You have you been drinking water?” The last sentence is said in a way that is almost threatening.

Arthur actually laughs at that one, “Yes, I’ve been drinking water.”

Well, younger Arthur has been drinking water. Probably.

“Obviously, not enough if you're nauseous. Come on, I think I actually have peppermint tablets in my wallet that’ll help,”

He acquiesces to Vivi pulling him in the direction of the kitchen, grateful she’s not about to push him for details. Gone are the days when Vivi would pester him until she was 100% sure he was okay and not downplaying anything. They’re left behind in a never-to-be-lived future with his, most likely, dead body. If he had any say in it those days would never come again.

Right now he’s running on empty, but, as soon as he has space to plan, he would get all this sorted. Or as sorted as he could manage. The bar to success is pretty low, so his chances are good. He’s just been given the motherload of second chances, and he's not about to screw it up, anxiety, panic attacks, and dissociative amnesia notwithstanding. He’s going to protect Vivi and Lewis from that messed up future no matter what.

For now, he needs to focus on getting through the rest of the day.

...

Note: So part 4=Arthur deals with shit and has a small identity crisis. Also, Vivi trying to figure things out, having noticed something is off but unable to pinpoint what. I’m hoping to be able to write a part 5 in the next week.

#mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #hellbent #arthur kingsmen #Vivi #fanfiction #fanfic

378 notes · View notes

imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years

Note

Bucky finds Tony's anxiety pills on accident ? (he didn't know about Tony's anxiety or depression)

Warning: Some rude shit is said to Tony (in the past!) for taking antidepressants. Skip the paragraph of italics if you want, it won't really affect much, I don’t think.

A/N: I use all the medications except Xanax, and Tony’s pain experience with migraines is exactly like my last mega-migraine. Minus a Bucky to ferry me pills and rub my neck, I had to bribe my sister to get me pills. *insert sad face*

In For a Penny

Tony burrowed into his blankets and managed to give a thumbs up to JARVIS when the windows went dark without him asking. The pain in his head was excruciating. It felt like someone was simultaneously gripping his head in a vice and randomly stabbing it with a dull knife if he moved his neck or head at all. And weirdly, it felt like his skull was too big for his skin. All in all, it was awful. The dark helped a little. The light felt like a million little needles in his eyes, and he was grateful for his very advanced technology to make his bedroom be as dark as a tomb.

Still, the lack of a million little needles in his eyes didn't help much.

He drifted in and out of a light doze, knowing his pain pills - the ones in his bathroom cabinet - would probably help kill the migraine, but not willing to brave movement. The sleeping wasn't going to help, but he lived in eternal hope that one day he would go to sleep, unmedicated, with a migraine and wake up without one.

He didn't know what time it was when the door opened and closed quietly. A few moments after that, the bed dipped. Fingers carded his hair, and he whined piteously as the fingers moved lower to rub his neck at pressure points.

“Migraine, honey?” Bucky kept his voice low, but more out of his need than Tony’s need. Tony was light sensitive, not very sound sensitive. A low audiobook played in the background. A man stuck on Mars was MacGyvering his way around a dust storm at the moment.

Tony gave a vaguely affirmative sound, one that Bucky only understood was so because of many migraines.

“Did you take anything?”

Negative sounds.

“Want some?”

“Mmmmhmmmm.”

“Okay honey.” Bucky rubbed Tony’s neck one last time before standing.

(Watch out for the break!)

Bucky walked into the bathroom to get the pain pills that he hoped would help Tony feel better. Opening the cabinet, he frowned. There seemed to be more prescription bottles then normal.

Carefully, he pulled them all out and read the labels. Topamax, yup he knew that one. Meloxicam and Baclofen, nope, not going to cut it for this migraine, Tony had waited too long for them to be any good.

The next two were new. Well, he hadn't seen them before, at any rate.

Xanax. What was that for? Bucky shook his head, and set it aside. Now wasn't the time to ask Tony when he was in pain.

The next bottle said Lexapro. He thought he vaguely remembered a commercial about that one, but he was more concerned about finding the- ah, there it was. Imitrex. It would most likely work. Shaking one pill into his hand and filling a glass with water, he took both back to Tony.

Tony carefully sat up enough to take the pill before immediately burrowing back down into his pile of pillows and blankets. Thank god for Bucky, otherwise he'd have to face the vision blackening, head pounding walk to the bathroom to get the pills himself and quite frankly, he wasn't up to that.

“Busy?” He managed to ask. He didn't want to ask Bucky to stay, it seemed selfish.

In reply, Bucky stretched out on the bed and began massaging his neck. “Nah. Try to relax, sugar.”

In spite of the pain, just having Bucky near was enough for his body to melt into the bed. “Thanks,” he slurred. Since he hasn't eaten in awhile, the pain pill was working quickly in the sense of making him very sleepy and a little nauseous. He slid into sleep.

When he woke again, Bucky was curled around him, his toes stuck under the blanket pile, and his hand stilled on his neck. He checked his phone to see the time. It was four am. While there was lingering pain, he felt much better. Enough to be willing the move around some more. He carefully wiggled around until he could cover Bucky with the blankets, and then with a sigh, fell back asleep. The migraine had wiped him out, and he was more than willing to sleep again.

The next morning, Tony woke Bucky with a smattering of kisses all over his face. “Good morning cupcake!” he said cheerfully.

Bucky groaned, not a morning person. Neither was Tony, normally, but with all the sleep he had gotten, he was pretty awake.

Plus: “Oh come on, I have coffee!” He dropped another kiss on Bucky’s lips before holding a mug by his face so Bucky could smell the coffee.

Sighing, Bucky shoved himself into a sitting position. “Guess you feel better,” he managed after gulping down most of the mug.

“Sure do, buttercup,” Tony agreed. Leaning against Bucky’s shoulder, he shoved at it until he was curled up under it. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

They sat in silence for a while as Bucky drank coffee, waking up.

“Honey?”

Tony looked up at Bucky. “Yeah?”

“What's lexapro for?”

Tony froze.

“You're so happy though!” “So you're crazy?” “Ugh, just get over it.” “So many people have it worse than you.” “Just go outside.” “Have you tried exercising?” “Those don't work.” “What do you have to be sad about?” “Attention whore.” “You should try natural remedies.” “That's the easy way out.” “You're just giving up.” “You're just looking for sympathy.”

A dozen - a hundred - different voices with a hundred different vile things ran through his head.

“Honey?” Bucky sounded concerned, turning so he could see Tony better.

Tony felt his chest tighten. He didn't want to talk about this. He could hear his breathing shorten.

“Tony!” Now he sounded worried, and was a lot closer than he remembered. “Breathe, baby.”

Breathing, he could do that. Concentrating, he forced air in and out of his lungs.

“Slower,” Bucky demanded.

Obligingly, he slowed his breathing.

When the world came back into focus, he blanched. He really never wanted to have even a minor panic attack in front of anyone, especially not Bucky. “Fuck,” he said, covering his eyes. “Let's pretend that never happened.”

“Let's not,” Bucky replied immediately. “That was terrifying, I thought you were dying. I almost called for medical.”

Tony winced. He supposed he should probably tell Bucky something. It was only fair. He struggled to sit up but Bucky blocked him. With little grace, he flopped back down and glared at the other man.

“No, you're lying down until you get some color back in your face.”

Sighing, Tony stayed where he was.

“What was that.”

It wasn't a question.

“A panic attack,” Tony admitted. “Not a big one.” He swallowed. “Can I have some water? I'll stay where I am,” he added, when he saw Bucky hesitate.

Bucky returned with water within a minute.

He gratefully took the water and drank the whole glass.

“I get them sometimes,” he continued.

“Why now?” Bucky asked.

Hesitating, Tony thought over his words. “Well... you asked about the lexapro,” he finally said.

Bucky’s face crumpled. “I caused it?”

“Not really!” Tony rushed to say. He managed to push himself to a sitting position while Bucky was distracted. Taking Bucky’s hand, he added. “It just reminded me of.... unpleasant memories.”

Now Bucky looked confused.

Tony sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. “It's an antidepressant,” he explained. “It's used for both anxiety and depression,” he added.

If anything, he looked even more confused. “Depression is where the brain doesn't produce the enough of certain chemicals. Sometimes it's short-term, and sometimes it's long-term. Anxiety is a little more complicated, but basically, randomly, you get really anxious for no reason except your brain is a dick and you have no choice in it.”

“Oh. Then,” Bucky paused. “Why the panic attack?”

Tony’s breath caught, but he forced himself to breathe normally. “Just people being assholes. Some people don't believe in antidepressants, or that I could have depression or an anxiety disorder.”

Bucky frowned. “That's stupid.”

A knot in Tony’s chest relaxed. “Yeah, it is.”

Bucky brushed a kiss over Tony’s cheek. “Can I beat those people up?”

A startled laugh made its way out of Tony. “No,” he said firmly.

Bucky pouted.

“No!”

Sighing, Bucky laid back down, and tugged Tony with him. “In that case, snuggle with me. Gotta make that up to me somehow.”

Laughing, Tony laid back down and curled up with Bucky. “Love you,” he whispered, kissing Bucky.

“Love you more, honey,” Bucky murmured, halfway back into sleep.

“Love you most.”

“Go to sleep, genius.”

Tony did.

~Marie

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #tony has migraines and depression and anxiety the poor thing #i don't get anxiety attacks so #*throws hands up in the air*#who knows if it's good portrayal sorry #prompts #mariesbookbloog #Anonymous

319 notes · View notes

nazetel · 7 years

Text

Today was dreadful in every possible meaning of the word. I honestly don't know how I survived but I am thankful to my mom and boyfriend, they saved me.

The night before I had severe anxiety. I'm not sure why or where it came from but it made me feel like something was very very wrong. I just didn't know WHAT. I spent the whole night cuddling up to my boyfriend trying to kill the feelings of panic.

The next morning him and I were supposed to go to get my blood samples in the hospital. All the way to the doctor I felt either too warm or too cold, nauseated, dizzy and my chest hurt.

When we got to the hospital I was vomiting and unable to walk straight. He walked me to the nurse and my result was bad so I needed a vein sample. I was feeling so sick I needed to lean on him so I wouldn't fall and lose consciousness.

He walked me to the bathroom then and got me to drink water, as it might have been dehydration and then he brought me to the hospital restaurant and bought me lots of food. We sat together, ate and drank our drinks and I proceeded to call my doctor.

My boyfriend wants to change from his doctor to mine because his isn't taking him seriously. I mean, he constantly has severely swollen feet, a massive rash and constant migraines. So I called, made an appointment for me and asked if they had places left and if it would be OK for my boyfriend to see the doctor as he's feeling unwell and we're FAR from his doctor.

The receptionist said they had some spaces but we need to ask my doctor if she wants to take him in.

When the appointment came around, I first off told her about my symptoms and my inability to eat due to bulimia for the past few months. She didn't know what's wrong and told me to eat vitamin D. That's fine. I then asked if we could get our vaccines, to which she said she can only give me. That's ok. She ended up declining because I have a high fever everyday.

So we moved onto my boyfriends case and even she agreed that his feet look horrible and that he needs help. She prescribed him some cream. I asked her if she would take him on and for some reason she became VERY pissed off about that.

I told her that I have some urine sample from bf and if she could check it. She says yeah so I ran for it to the car. Meanwhile she was complaining about me to my boyfriend. Saying how I'm a timewaster etc. He's a very anxious person so this fucking WRECKED him. I came back, his urine was clear but me? I couldn't see anymore. My eyesight was blurred. Fully. I couldn't breathe properly either.

When it was time to leave I accidentally grabbed her coat instead of mine because they're the same and she LOST HER SHIT.

Then I lost consciousness. All I remember was me hyperventilating, crying, shaking and begging my boyfriend to take me home.

At home I lay in bed sweating and feverish, crying and shaking and my mom on one side of me, boyfriend on the other. They gave me valium and I managed to fall asleep. I slept from twelve in the afternoon to four in the morning. Boyfriend was already gone home when I woke up.

My chest hurts, from crying and the attack and I feel so exhausted. So horrible.

#borderline personality disorder #personal #mine #marfan syndrome #spoonie #panic attack #marfansyndrome

1 note · View note

winterschild999 · 7 years

Text

Broken

PROMPTS - Hey amrita! I really looooove your writings♥️. Hope you know that already. I was wondering if you could write a fluff/angst with the prompts 8. “Are you gonna kiss me or what?” 40. “You know you love me" and 72. "Shut up, I can’t hear my own thoughts". THANK YOU! You're awesome! ♥

@mytrueself You are awesome . I hope you like it .

WORDS - 1.8 K

WARNINGS-Angst , cheating , crying. sorry

If you aren’t comfortable with these please don’t read it.

A/N - Send me prompts guys . I want to write them .

PROMPT LIST

Taw @supersoldierslover thank you .And sorry .

#8 - Are you gonna kiss me or what

#40 - You know you love me

#72 - Shut up , I can’t hear my own thoughts

Not very often but once in a while you get migraines so bad that you couldn’t go back to sleep . All night you’d be awake , just staring at the ceiling , turning here and there , hoping that at least in one sleeping position the ache decreases . It was always in the night , right about an hour after dinner that you’d get them. Bucky would be peacefully sleeping next you and that is why you never woke him up . Ever since you have been together his sleep has substantially increased and his nightmares decreased .

It was 4:30 in the morning and you were wide awake . You turned your head to the right only to find the bed empty . It was always like this . A few months into your relationship he started going to the gym early mornings . When asked he said it was peaceful since no one was present at that time .

You decided laying on bed and hoping the ache would go away was of no use so you got and headed to the bathroom .

Dark circles hooded your eyes as you looked into the mirror . You washed your face and combed your hair quickly and decided to head to the gym , hoping to find Bucky there.

In baggy sweatpants and grey tank top you walked through the eerily silent hallways of the tower . The high glass walls, showcasing the world around you , still calm from the fog , the day yet to start .

It was peaceful . You started remembering the early days you were here . You came about a year after Bucky joined the avengers . You were very shy . Just adding very few words into discussion . Always feeling left out and that you didn’t fit in . But after becoming friends with Wands you realised that wasn’t always a bad thing . You didn’t need to fit in. You can be yourself . And that’s when you started seeing everyone for who they are . Everyone with different powers . But still one family .

You saw them as they actually were and not as the world outside the tower saw them as . But it was with Bucky with whom you mingled the most . He understood you because he was also like you before . He helped you break out of your shell . He told you about the days he was insecure and he would just lock himself far away from everyone . He’d tell you that he changed and learnt to accept his past to make his future better .

He took your insecurities and made them your strength . You could never trust anyone in hopes that they would leave you at the end of the day like all you family did . But Bucky taught you that not everyone is the same . And you wouldn’t know unless you gave them a chance . And that’s exactly what you did . You gave him a chance . He changed you. He made you love yourself . He made you believe that you were lovable . That you deserved love and happiness .

One year after your relationship you knew that you were capable of and deserved love . You were happy with the man that was the reason behind your happiness .

You walked down the stairs and went to the gym floor , where Nat’s and Clint’s room is also located . Not that Clint was here .Most of the time he’s be near his family . And that made you happy . It felt like maybe one day , amidst all this chaos you will also have a chance at family . A normal life . A normal life and a family with Bucky . The thought itself made you smile like an idiot .

As you walked into the doors of the gym Bucky was nowhere to be found . You checked the showers and he wasn’t there either . You were a little confused . Maybe he went back up through the lift and you didn’t see him .

As you were walking back you heard a voice that was most familiar to you. The voice that whispered sweet things into your ear when you were having a panic attack . The voice that whispered I love you into your ear every night before sleeping. The voice that made you weak to the knees . The voice that moaned your name as they were buried deep inside you gaining pleasure from yours .

It was Bucky . You followed the sound and found yourself standing in front of Nat’s room .

You were just about to enter the room and you saw that the door was slightly ajar . Just enough for you to be able to see the two bodies standing close to each other .

“We need to tell her Nat . I can’t keep doing this . She needs to know .”, you hear Bucky say .

What was he talking about? Was he talking about you ? What can’t he keep doing?

Deep inside you there sparked a sense of insecurity . Pain. What if it was what you were thinking?

No. Bucky won’t don’t that . He can’t do that . He said he loved me.

“I know Bucky . But we will tell her when the time comes . Where is the harm as long as she doesn’t know?” She pulls him by his shirt close to her .

“Are you gonna kiss me or what now?”, she says looking at Bucky’s face and then his lips .

His lips crash into hers , as their bodies move in harmony . Moans leaving each others lips.

However much you wanted to run and cry forever you found yourself glued to the floor . It wasn’t real . It can’t be . Bucky would never betray you. Right?

You didn’t want to accept the truth that was right in front of your eyes . You found yourself hoping that this was just a bad dream that you would be awoken from by Bucky hugging you tightly .

How you wished that this was all just a fragment of your imagination that originated from the deep roots of your sole being , insecurities .

You always thought you’d lose Bucky to Nat because of their past. But time and again Bucky assured you that he was only yours . And that no one would steal him away from you .

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard Bucky speaking again .

“Mmmmm , God you are so convincing sometimes . I hate you for that . I can never stand my ground .”

Nat laughed at that .

“You know you love me Barnes .” She said as he pulled his shirt from above his head .

“Hmmm , I do . I do love you .”

You didn’t think you hard could break anymore . But those words just shattered your heart into smithereens . The same words that sounded like music to your ears when uttered by Bucky now sounded like a broken record . The words that once were your medicine was now poison that slowly killed you . Words that made you feel warm and happy inside now only brought up disgust .

You stood there looking down at the floor lost in your thoughts . You didn’t realise that the door was now open and both of them were staring at you with guilt written all over their faces .

Your legs stumbled back as you couldn’t hold your weight anymore and Bucky reached forward to grab you but you put up your hand . At least he had the decency to look hurt .

You walked back until you felt the wall against your back and slow slid down to the floor .

You brought your knees to your chest and sat there .

You held Bucky’s shaking body close to you every time he had a nightmare .

And now his body was held close to Nat every time he seeked pleasure from her .

You comforted him , running your hands through his hair , rubbing his back . trying to stop him from his harsh breaths after a violet episode from his past .

Now he seeked comfort from someone else, Nat’s hands running through his hair , rubbing his back , trying to stop his harsh breaths after sex .

The man who once said you were more than enough for him , and that didn’t need anyone else to make him happy now seeked happiness in Nat .

Bucky taught you that everyone isn’t the same . But look what happened . He told you to give people a chance and so you did . You gave him a chance . And look what happened .

At the end of the day you were back at square one . The man that build you up is also the one that destroyed you . All you insecurities crept right back in . And now it felt it will forever be etched in your soul and mind .

They were speaking to you but it all seems mute . Only their mouths were moving but no sound came . You couldn’t think . You felt suffocated . You felt lost . You felt vulnerable . You didn’t know what to think .

“Y/N , let me explain.....” “Yes , let us explain Y/N . Bucky and I...” “I did love you...I just...” “There was some past between us . You should unde....” “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way .” “Yes . We were going to tell you but....” “Y/N ...listen baby...” “SHUT UP . I CAN’T HEAR MY OWN THOUGHTS .” You screamed . It wasn’t as loud as you thought it was going to be . Your voice came out hoarse .

You slowly raised your finger and pointed at both of them .

“You will never talk to me . Never try to even come close to me . I want you out of my room . Everything that we ever had is destroyed forever.”

You wiped the tears on your face with the back of your hand and go back to your room and sit in the tub of your bathroom . You let the tears flow .

Today you learnt that you couldn’t be loved and that you could trust no one .

You lost a friend , and you lost your love . But most importantly , today , you lost yourself .

Until the day someone would pick up your pieces and fix you for good , you were lost .

TAGS - If you wanted to be added shoot me an ask .

@hellomissmabel @marvelatthepeople @topkay @elwin-smaragd @elwenia @marveloussssworld @emilyevanston @tol-sam @justareader @mjcumberbatch @crazybutconfidentaf @yknott81 @winterboobaer @chipilerendi @badassbaker @mcfuccfairy @panickedpandaposts @learisa @magellan-88 @superantonija @hopelessgarbage @aingealcethlenn @melconnor2007 @the-witching-hours12-3 @buckyappreciationsociety @psychicwitchphilosopher @cassandras-musings

#bucky x reader #bucky x barnes #natasha x bucky #natbucky #winterwidow #cheating #sad angst #betrayal #angst #sorry #my writing #saaad #crying

396 notes · View notes

valhallansim · 7 years

Photo

In honour of both Mental Health Month (US) and Mental Health Awareness week (UK), I decided to give back to both my lovely followers and the Simblr community as a whole by sharing parts of my own story surrounding mental health issues. I hope some insight into my struggles, dark thoughts and pain can help someone else through their hardships, even if it is just a little bit.

Content warnings for suicide mentions, mentions of abuse, PTSD, depression, alcohol, anxiety, panic attacks, other mental health-related issues and death of a parent.

In hindsight, now that I am a 24 year old adult, a lot of things about my life make sense. Not in a good way, I’m sad to say, but they do. I cried a lot as a baby. As a toddler, I would be months ahead of my peers, have conversations with adults, but be extremely sensitive to the point where I would dissolve into complete hysterics if I wasn’t given proper time to recharge. Throughout my whole school career, including high school, I was always sick at least one day out of five. Headaches, migraines, cramping, terrible anxiety that kept me up at night.

The first psychiatrist I saw was when I was 12. I lived in a complicated household where I was the only one that was being abused, as the oldest of three children. My dad would hit me for reasons that are still unclear to this day, sometimes so bad that on a few seperate occassions blood was drawn or I was locked up in the bathroom with a throbbing, blue arm. It was strange, since my dad was a very nice man. He loved me, and my siblings, and my mother, and his friends, and his co-workers. He would snap, sometimes, seemingly out of nowhere. We will never know why and how, and why I was the only one taking the beatings, but it happened. I was suicidal to the point where I would grab all of the sharp kitchen knives and hide them in my room. I tried drowning myself in the bath tub, or tried to calculate if I were to die if I jumped out of my bedroom window. I remember feeling so terribly empty that I would hide underneath my desk in my room, and cry for hours. I was diagnosed with depression, sent home, and that was that for years.

Then my dad died when I was 17, a month before I would turn 18. It went so ridiculously fast that I would have dreams about him returning home, even if I knew that he was dead. He was ill for hardly 4 weeks before he passed away, and I couldn’t feel. It put a whole lot of perspective into my life. I was about to graduate that same year, and go to university. I didn’t want to. Art has always been a passion for me. I was numb, but I knew I wanted to go to art school.

I didn’t even make it to the start of the first year before I was sent off to a psychiatrist again. I was angry, sad, but most of all angry - I felt misunderstood by my family, and I would have fights with my mother and sister so bad that I tried to suffocate myself with blankets once in my room. I was diagnosed with dysthymia, a condition that can be described as ‘chronic depression’. Therapy helped a bit, and I started art school.

Art school was tough. Especially the first year, where I wanted to perform well so badly that I never missed a day of class, which is highly unusual for me. The second year started, and I could tell something was horribly wrong right away. I would sit on the train to school, and hear sirens. I would see flashes, get migraines, hear screaming or loud buzzing in my ears. I would come home hysterically crying to my mother, wishing the extreme panic would go away. It was too much, but I didn’t listen to my own body. I would take some pain killers, tough it out, and walk to the train station all the same the next day. Looking back, I lost complete control over myself and who I was, as if held at gunpoint by a giant monster named panic. I remember being so anxious about getting on that train, getting to school, doing what I had to do, that I thought I could outrun a train that was coming. The beams had already closed and both the lights and bells were sounding, signaling the train was coming at a high speed. ‘I can make it’, I thought, and I didn’t really care. I had to be on time to catch my own train. I slipped underneath the beams, and without looking I tried to cross the railway. Someone yelled at me to stop. I startled so bad that I stopped walking, and the train passed by maybe only a few paces away from me. I was shaken for the rest of the day, and by the time I came home, I realised what had happened and I cried. Scared to tell anyone, scared that my head could get so far ahead without me and do something so dangerous.

Things didn’t start looking up for me. I had to take time off from school. I missed a lot of classes and disappointed a lot of classmates who I was working with in groups. I tried to do whatever I could, but I couldn’t make myself go to school every single day, no matter how hard I tried. It felt like I was tied to the floor of my house, as if shackles prevented me from going anywhere I wanted. I felt so tired - even to this day, I feel tired, as if my arms and legs are too heavy for my body. I was given medication. It took me a long time to get used to the pills, and even after that, when things became a little bit better, things were still not looking great. I did a lot of tests, and another diagnosis was made. PDNOS, cluster A & C. The diagnosis itself didn’t change much, but it put a whole lot into perspective.

I had to drop out of school. I felt worthless, disgusting, and absolutely useless. One day, I got a blackout so bad that I was gone for an hour. I ‘woke up’ on my bed, not knowing what had happened. My mom told me how she had crowded up against me from behind in the kitchen, trying to be funny with me by joking around. I remember a wave of panic hitting me, but that is all. The nightmares became worse and worse, my teeth grinding so hard in my sleep that I would wake the whole house. I was diagnosed with PTSD.

That was a little over a year ago. To this day, I am still coming to terms with all these different diagnoses, figuring out how I can live a life worth living with them. Together with therapy, counselling and medication, I’m trying to shape my life into something that is do-able for me. Money is always an issue, and so are the worries for my future and what I need to do to get ‘somewhere’. Suicidal thoughts are still there, but with people to talk to and a psychiatrist to help me, I feel confident in staying alive. It is not only my mental health that is keeping me from studying and finishing my degree, a lot of physical aspects (kyphosis, migraines, cluster headaches) certainly do their part as well. Every day, I try to get out there and do something that contributes to my future. I am lucky to have a house where I am welcome to stay for as long as I need to, a loving family, and a talent and interest in art and writing that I could pursue as a freelance career.

What is especially important for me, is to know that things like these take time. Feeling useless and scolding myself for not being where I want to be, does not help at all. Getting better, seeking help and getting where you want to be takes a lot of time. Some people just do it a tiny bit faster. In my therapy sessions I have learnt that the worst thing for me to do is to hate myself for who I am and what it is that holds me back. Scolding myself and berating myself to do better and be better and to suck it up, are only going to make it worse. Be kinder to yourself, my therapist says. Be kinder to yourself, everyone around me says.

Be kinder to yourself.

I say, to you, even if I still find it hard to apply those words to my own life. It is something to live by, though. Be kind to yourself. Seek help if you need to. Reach out to a friend. Know that there are people out there willing to help.

Thank you for reading. I hope you are doing well, now and in the future, and that my story might help some of you, even if only a little bit. ♥

#valhallan talks #valmha #okay to reblog if you want to #kisse sto you

110 notes · View notes

maybeotherplaces-blog · 7 years

Text

My Daughter is Falling Apart

I could tell she was having a bad day from the moment I woke up, simply because she hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. She’s only ten and still in that annoying stage where she likes to wake up at ungodly hours of the morning and make as much noise as possible until we get up too. She hasn’t discovered the beauty of “sleeping in” yet. Neither has her sister. Still, they had school this morning and her little sister was already half dressed before I even wandered into her room to see if she was awake.

By the time the little one was completely done getting dressed, brushing her teeth, putting her shoes on, brushing her hair, my ten year old had finally gotten up and used the bathroom and grabbed her clothes that I put out for them the night before on school days to make the morning process easier on us all.

I watched her sitting on the floor, staring at the clothes as if she hated them and I knew what was coming. So as gently as possible, I reminded her that it was seven o’clock and I had already given her extra time to relax; she needed to start getting ready. Her voice was in that higher pitch that it’s been in more often lately, not quite whining, but straining enough that my stress levels rise because I know whatever comes next is going to be difficult. She was in no mood for dressing, for being awake. I helped her sister finish getting ready while she dressed because I know from experience that if I try to help her she’ll only become more frustrated.

She started complaining about her teeth. She said they hurt. She began to cry. I’ve only heard complaints of teeth a few times, and they never lasted very long so it never amounted to anything. I suggested that when she brushed her teeth, to do it as gently as possible. She began to cry.

She wanted to brush her own hair, and my suspicions were confirmed. She was in a lot of pain. Even with her allodynia, she usually wants me to brush her hair. The only time she wants to do it herself is when she thinks I’ll hurt her, which after almost two years of learning to brush her hair for her as painlessly as possible, I don’t do unless she’s having a really bad flare. I know that on these days she would rather just go to school with a birds nest on her head. Half the stroke of a brush and she was in tears. It had snagged on a knot and pulled.

“It’s alright,” I said to her. What else can I say to her? “It happens to me all the time. Every time I brush my hair it snags. Sometimes it helps if I hold my hair while I brush it.” I watched her stare at the wall across the room while she s..l..o..w..l..y brushed from top to bottom.

Fifteen minutes later we were finally at shoes, and she sat on the floor in hysterics. “I hate my shoes!” she shouted. She loves her shoes. They’re brand new, black-and-white zebra print with leather and a hot-pink tongue. She picked them out herself and shows them to everyone, bragging about how great they are. “No you don’t,” I said. She was having trouble getting them on her feet, and when one wouldn’t slip onto her foot smoothly, she would kick it right back off. She took a break to rub her fingers and toes. They were bothering her. When she got the shoes on she flipped the laces around frantically. “I can’t get them to tie, now I have to do it all over again, oh my god” her breath quickened, she covered her face.

I won’t admit to knowing how she feels. When I used to see this, I thought it was just because she had started puberty and she was just freaking out. I used to think her thoughts were going to fast for her actions and that she just needed to slow down. Now, I know that she’s experiencing what I do when I’m near panic - The scrambly brain, the rush of anger and frustration and despair when something that needs to be done quickly and should be done easily just isn’t working the way it SHOULD. I imagine it’s worse for her because she’s in so much pain. If things don’t work out the way they “should,” she doesn’t have a panic attack or prolonged anxiety that feels like a slow, tortuous, mental death - No. She hurts much more, for much longer, PHYSICALLY, as well as mentally. Chronic pain is not something I am well acquainted with personally, unless you count my months of endometriosis pain before my hysterectomy when I was 25. When I hurt, it’s because I’m injured. Or having a medical procedure. My pain is all emotional, mental. Her pain is everything, everywhere.

I tied her shoes for her. I hid some treats in her backpack so she would have a pleasant surprise when she opened it in class, so something would make her happy for a moment. We rushed out the door as she complained about the straps of her backpack hurting her shoulders. She didn’t talk the whole drive to school. As we said goodbye at parent drop-off, she sounded happier. “Bye, Mama, I love you.” As I drove home I realized I had forgotten to ask if she had PE today. My youngest has art, so I assume she does have PE. We finally obtained a “PE as tolerated” note for her two weeks ago, but I still get anxious thinking about her going, thinking about what her teachers must think, wondering if they’ll force her to run like they did last month, causing her entire body to hurt, a migraine to be triggered. I wonder if she worries like this, too.

We’re still waiting on the pediatric rheumatologist to call us for an appointment in St. Pete. I keep hoping that we’ll be able to get in quickly but then I remember there are only a few in the entire state and I feel as if I’m sinking. It will be months. It took over three months for my cardiologist to get me on medication for my heart. Three months and only four appointments, locally, because they were so busy. There are adult cardiologists everywhere. Eleven pediatric rheumatologists in the entire state.

I just want to make it all better.

#allodynia #pots #arthralgia #chronic fatigue #parenting #chronic pain #dysautonomia #pediatric allodynia #pediatric pain #personal

1 note · View note

smugsmythe · 8 years

Text

The One With the Seizure || Seblaine

Date: March 5th, 2017

Location: Sebastian and Blaine’s Apartment

Who: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe

Notes: Blaine and Sebastian make their way home after a tiring weekend visiting their families. Without getting any sleep the previous night, Sebastian begins to feel ill.

sei·zure /ˈsēZHər/ noun

1. the action of capturing someone or something using force. "the seizure of the Assembly building" synonyms: capture, takeover, annexation, invasion, occupation, colonization 2. a sudden attack of illness, especially a stroke or an epileptic fit. "the patient had a seizure" synonyms: convulsion, fit, spasm, paroxysm;

Sebastian Smythe:

After a long and arduous day between having meals with both sets of parents after what was a long night of love-making and reminiscing, Sebastian felt absolutely ill. He hadn’t slept since Friday night and a bumpy flight home on Sunday allowed him next to no rest. His body demanded that he shovel vast amounts of sugars and calories to keep conscious. He’d been instructed by his now-mentor, Professor Garrick, on how to utilize his abilities along with how to maintain his body now that it demanded much more of him. His body and mind felt so depleted of energy that he was barely nervous on the flight back and was more relieved than usual when they landed back in New York.

Sebastian didn’t feel right and he suspected that it was a mixture of staying up all night the day before in addition to a low blood sugar. He convinced his boyfriend to make a pit stop to pick up food before they went home, scarfing it down though it didn’t seem to help him feel any better. A headache had begun deep behind his eyes and he thought it best to vocalize his ailments when Blaine noticed he’d been acting a bit off.

“I have a headache.” He rubbed the bridge of nose in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain as they sat in the back of the cab. Luckily it was less than a half-hour drive to their apartment and they could just turn in early. The sun was nearly setting and all Sebastian wanted to do was curl up in bed with his boyfriend and get some much-needed rest.

Blaine Anderson:

The whole way to the airport, during the flight, and the cab ride home, Blaine could tell that Sebastian was not feeling well. He could understand the exhaustion seeing as they had been awake for over twenty-four hours and they hadn't relaxed much considering having sex multiple times the night before and socializing with both of their families. It had been tiring, but he could tell the other wasn't just sleepy. His body language told him it was more than that.

He kept a comforting hand and a watchful eye on his boyfriend through their morning and their travels home, trying to take care of him to best of his ability, getting him snacks and drinks on the plane, trying to coax him to sleep but it was a lost cause with the turbulence they hit.

Blaine took Sebastian's bags from him to pull them both behind him as they caught a cab outside of the airport. “I'm sorry you feel so bad, Seb.” He voiced his concern once they got into the cab, reaching over to run his fingers through Sebastian's hair to soothe him during their ride home. “Just take some deep breaths and try to rest. When we get home we’ll go up and you can take something for your head and get into bed. I'll crawl into bed with you and we can just cuddle and go to bed.” He promised with a soft voice, pressing his lips to Sebastian's temple.

After they picked up food, Blaine was disappointed to know eating didn't make Sebastian feel any better, causing him to worry more. Thankfully, the ride home was shortened by ten minutes thanks to a speedy cab driver and once they were there, Blaine carried their bags himself. He insisted that Sebastian take it easy. When they were finally inside the apartment, Blaine left their luggage by the front door and guided his boyfriend to their room. “C’mon handsome, let's get you ready for bed.” He placed his hands on the taller’s back to gently push him. Blaine made him sit on the bed. “You just sit here, I got you.”

He left him to go into the bathroom, returning with a glass of water and some Advil for him, making him take it. Blaine tended to Sebastian lovingly, taking off his shoes and helping him get undressed and into the bed. “Do you need anything else, honey?”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian appreciated that Blaine was so thoughtful throughout the entire trip home. He tried his best to relax and do as he was told, not wanting to worry his boyfriend any further. Sometime between leaving the airport and arriving at their apartment Sebastian’s headache worsened but he kept his mouth shut about exactly how awful he felt. His main focus was getting himself to bed and sleep off whatever was ailing him. He barely put up a fight when Blaine insisted he be the one to carry the bags into the apartment and Sebastian allowed himself to be led into the bedroom.

He gladly took the medicine he was offered and drank all of the water, handing the empty glass back to his boyfriend. “Thank you,” he responded with his voice weak and weary as Blaine helped him to undress, until he was stripped down to only his boxer briefs. Sebastian burrowed himself under the bedsheets, feeling only slightly better now that he was lying down in his comfortable bed. “I just need you,” Sebastian smiled up at his boyfriend, pulling the comforter back for Blaine to join him. “Hurry up and get your cute butt over here.” He demanded, though his voice came out more needy than bossy.

Sebastian still felt uneasy-- almost as if his body was too exhausted to properly relax itself. Still lying down, he rubbed his eyes, as they still hurt from his apparent migraine. He was so out of it that he experienced small waves of vertigo, as if the room were spinning around him. In an attempt to somehow recalibrate his balance, Sebastian turned over to his side, to face Blaine’s side of the bed. His eyes screwed shut tight and he breathed out through his mouth to calm his nerves. His biggest fear at the moment was that this was somehow a new development due to his powers. For the first week after he’d awoken from his coma, he had avoided Blaine because he needed the time alone to get a grasp on his powers and weaknesses. It would be awful if something speedster-related happened to him while Blaine was in the same room. He hoped that as soon as he fell asleep, everything would be fine.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine smiled softly when Sebastian lightly bossed him to hurry and get in bed, he was certainly ready for sleep himself. He was beyond exhausted and he felt as if his eyes were going crossed. He was ready to curl up with Sebastian and sleep until Wednesday. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Give me just a minute." Blaine kicked off his shoes, quickly going to the bathroom to wash his face and get his own drink before returning.

The shorter walked over to the bed, looking down at Sebastian, something in his gut churning as his forehead wrinkled slightly. "You sure you're going to be okay, Seb? You really don't look so good." He felt even more concerned now that they were home and Sebastian seemed to be feeling worse, not better. He had half a mind to call the other's doctor to see if he had any suggestions but he knew he was probably just overreacting. They hadn't slept in over a day; of course he wouldn't be feeling well.

Blaine pushed off his pants and then slipped his shirt over his head, throwing them into a pile next to the bed that he would pick up whenever they woke up. "Hey, hey," He said softly, concerned at the way his boyfriend seemed to be getting worse. Finally he got into the bed next to Sebastian. "Sweetheart, c'mere." He cooed, scooting closer to the other, situating himself so Sebastian could cuddle closer and he could hold him. "I got you, you get some sleep." Blaine pressed his lips against the taller's head. "Love you, Seb." His words were soft as he nuzzled against him.

Sebastian Smythe:

“Y-yeah, don’t worry about me,” Sebastian murmured, his voice growing heavy with sleepiness. “Just need you.” He said again, relaxing slightly more once Blaine was cuddled up next to him. The swirl of dizziness continued to plague Sebastian’s head. “I love you too, B,” he closed his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep, knowing that was really all he needed. It wasn’t even moments later that he felt that something was seriously wrong.

At first, he thought something or someone has pushed his head down. It had jerked his head all the way to one side and it felt like an invisible force was pinning him down to the bed. He couldn't move any parts of his body as it clenched up. Sebastian tried to move at least his eyes to look at Blaine but to no avail. Not being able to move-- and not knowing why-- sent a wave of terror through Sebastian’s body. He tried to call out for help but only a strangled cry managed to make its way out of Sebastian's mouth, his neck feeling as though it was constricted. His body didn't feel like his own as every muscle in his body stiffened beyond the point of pain. His body trembled from tensing up and he couldn't breathe. All the air from his lungs left him and as he tried to gasp to catch his breath, only more strained cries coming out of his mouth.

He thought maybe he heard Blaine say something to him but he wasn't sure. He became less and less aware of his surroundings, his body forcing him to look away from his boyfriend.

What if someone had tracked him down as the speedster and was attacking him for some reason? What if this was because he wasn't actually okay after the lightning strike? As panic built up inside of him at all his unanswered questions, Sebastian blacked out.

Then the convulsions started.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine had already closed his eyes and let himself relax into their bed, holding the other close, when he felt Sebastian's head turning away from him. The movement itself wasn't alarming but he still peeked one of his eyes open to look down at him. “You okay, love?” His voice was soft and that's when he realized that Sebastian was definitely not okay.

His heart began to beat hard in his chest as fear-driven adrenaline raced through his body and he sat up quickly. “What-- Seb..” Blaine jumped out of the bed and it was simultaneously as if the world was moving in hyper speed and slow motion. His body felt hot and cold at the same time as the fear inside of him grew, the sound Sebastian made rang all through him, echoing in his mind. Even after all of his years of being Nightbird, Blaine had only experienced someone behaving in this manner once so he knew it was a seizure but the problem was why. Why was Sebastian having a seizure? And unfortunately Blaine didn't know how to deal with it; he had no knowledge of seizures. If it were anyone else he would've been able to rationalize and figure it out but it wasn't just anyone; it was Sebastian and it was terrifying. He did know, however, that people didn't just have them for no reason and so more fear was added to the growing pile that had just begun.

“Babe, can you hear me? He asked, his voice was frantic to match his movements as he pulled the covers from Sebastian so his shaking body wouldn't be tangled in the sheets, moving to Seb’s side of the bed to make sure he didn't fall off. Sebastian’s body shook hard but it wasn't hard enough for him to be too concerned about him falling off but he wanted to be safe. His heart pounded hard against his chest as he looked at the other, feeling extremely helpless as Sebastian's eyes looked at him, almost as if he were begging him for help. The taller's eyes went off to the sides and his straining noises stopped and only the sound of him trying to breathe through gritted teeth now echoed through the room as he continued to shake against the bed. “S-Sebastian…no, no, no, no. Seb.” Tears welled up in his eyes as the thought crossed his mind that Sebastian might die, having known nothing about seizures. He couldn't lose Sebastian now; he just got him back. The thought of him dying made an empty feeling pull at Blaine's stomach and he was overcome with a crippling, irrational fear that he might never get to speak to Sebastian ever again- that the past weekend would be his last memories.

Suddenly he had so many things he wanted to tell Sebastian.

With his hands shaking almost too hard to dial, Blaine quickly went to his phone to call 9-1-1, placing his trembling hand against his forehead, he sniffled. “”H-hi my b-boyfriend is having a seizure a-and I have n-no idea what to do.” Blaine strained to speak through his fear, his body shaking and tears building fast as he said the words out loud, his throat feeling heavy and thick.”Is he going to die? Do I need help? What do I do? How do I stop it-- Can I even stop it?” It was as if his first words unlocked his ability to talk and all of the questions that ran through his mind spilled out of his mouth. He was thankful for the patient person on the other end of the phone who guided him through the next agonizingly slow thirty seconds, answering all of his questions calmly and then asking a few of her own that Blaine answered with a shaking voice, biting at his thumbnail and pacing the floor. Knowing now that there was nothing he could do for Sebastian except let him ride it out and make sure it didn't last longer than three minutes.

It was just a moment later that Sebastian began to come down from his episode. “Wait, wait, it stopped.” He said into the phone, rushing to Sebastian's side, though giving him some space per the advice of the operator on the other side of the phone. “S-Sebastian?” He said softly, his voice still shaking. “Sweetheart?”

Time had moved so slowly from Blaine's point of view that it felt like it had been hours since it all began but in reality it had only been about a minute and a half.

Sebastian Smythe:

All throughout his convulsions, Sebastian's eyes were open yet he was unconscious. He wasn't aware he was experiencing convulsions nor did he realize Blaine had been freaking out and called 9-1-1. It wasn't until his episode had ended and his body had stopped trembling that he returned to consciousness. He snapped back to reality with a start, adrenaline bolting through his body as he flinched back away from the figure standing next to him. He was disoriented and when he had realized he was flinching back from his boyfriend, he felt less scared and panicked. “What-- what happened? Where am I?” He asked, though when he looked around, he could tell he was in his bedroom. His heart was pounding though not nearly as painfully as his head. Sebastian placed a hand against his forehead, his eyes screwing shut at the pain.

Opening his eyes to look up, Sebastian could immediately tell his boyfriend was crying with his phone in his hand. Concern became his prioritized emotion as he pushed himself to sit up despite his dizziness and confusion, reaching out to hold Blaine's hand. “Hey, hey-- Blaine, what's wrong? Why’re you crying?” Sebastian spoke as if he'd just woken from a very deep sleep-- his words were slow and heavy. He very clearly had no recollection of what happened nor did he seem to have any active memory of the moments leading up to his seizure. Something tickled the corner of his lip and he instinctively wiped at whatever it was with his hand, realizing that he'd been drooling in his sleep? Sebastian hadn't known it but his heavy breathing through gritted teeth caused his salivary glands to overreact and saliva spilled over the edge of his lips. Now that his seizure was over, his mouth felt sore and dry. In fact, his whole body ached like he’d just done a rigorous workout.

Sebastian searched Blaine's expression for any indication for what might've happened-- hoping that Blaine had an explanation for his intense headache and why his body felt so tired and strained.

Blaine Anderson:

“Yeah-yeah, he's awake. He's talking. Thank you.” Blaine hurried off the phone with the 9-1-1 operator after she gave him a few instructions and things to watch for when it came to Sebastian's behavior, letting him know of the things that warranted a hospital visit, encouraging him to go anyway considering it was Sebastian's first seizure that he knew of.

When he hung up, Blaine put his phone aside and knelt onto the bed next to Sebastian, taking his hand. “H-hey you,” His jaw shuddered and caused his words to shake as the tears filled his eyes faster with relief and fear all wrapped up into one. “S-seb, no, no, don't get up. It's okay. You're okay.” He rubbed the other's hand with his thumb gently, his heart still beating loudly in his ears as the adrenaline from being scared continued to course through him. “I-I don't know why...but you had a seizure.” Blaine explained carefully, trying his best to calm himself, to stop shaking and crying. He didn't want to freak Sebastian out anymore than he was going to be already.

“I-I just got in bed and you were about to fall asleep, I think, and your head turned and you started shaking.” He tried his best to gather his thoughts to brief his boyfriend on what just happened as his voice shook. Blaine closed his eyes for a moment. “Crap-- what am I supposed to ask you?” He spoke mostly to himself, willing himself to remember what the women on the phone told him. “Age, date, name. Right.” He nodded. Speaking quickly as he muttered to himself before taking a deep breath. “Okay,” Blaine slowed his tone, speaking softly. “First, how are you feeling? Second, do you know your name? And the date?” He spaced his questions out as to not overwhelm his boyfriend, giving him time to answer each. “Do….do you know who I am?”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian wasn’t sure what Blaine meant when he was told he had had a seizure. Slowly, the gaps in his memory began filling in and he remembered how he felt when he couldn’t move. Though he was still mildly panicked, Sebastian noticed how Blaine spoke slowly and as calmly as possible, despite the obvious anxiety he was trying to file away. The apparent seizure has visibly distressed Blaine. Listening to his boyfriend’s questions, Sebastian frowned. Was Blaine afraid that he could suddenly lose his memory? Or forget him? Surely it wasn't that serious… right?

“I feel... horrible,” Sebastian answered honestly. He thought it best not to hide anything more from Blaine at this point. “My head hurts-- Body hurts. I feel… heavy?” He shrugged, unable to muster the brainpower to think of a more appropriate word. He swayed back and forth where he was seated, the room still spinning. “Um, vertigo,” he explained before he leaned back against the headboard with a rough sigh. “I’m Sebastian. And it’s… Is it Saturday? Sunday?” He answered Blaine’s other questions, unable to recall the day of the week correctly. “And you’re my one and only boyfriend.” Offering Blaine a weak smile, he squeezed his hand. “B, of course I know who you are. I couldn’t ever forget you.” Sebastian wanted to do or say more to ease his boyfriend’s worries but he felt like he’d just been hit by a truck. It worried him that his abilities weren’t doing anything to alleviate the pain and discomfort he was experiencing. He knew that his abilities were supposed to grant him accelerated healing so it made him wonder if there was nothing in him that could be healed.

His headache worsened by the moment-- so much so that Sebastian was beginning to feel nauseated. “H-Hey,” he spoke up with slight urgency in his voice, unaware if Blaine had said anything else to him because of every little thing that ailed him. “C-Can you get me a glass of ginger ale or something? My stomach is doing flips-- not the good kind.” When Blaine left to fetch him a drink, Sebastian felt another burgeoning wave of nausea that had him swinging his legs over the bed and standing faster than he probably should’ve. He hadn’t wanted Blaine to see him like this. Rushing down the hall despite his dizziness, Sebastian lost his balance, tripping over his own two feet as he all but crashed into the bathroom and emptied out his stomach into the toilet. He hacked and coughed as he threw up the food he’d eaten earlier that day. Sebastian vomited so violently that he couldn’t catch his breath, his chest heaving with ragged gasps of air. “Fuck…” he cursed to himself, the taste of spit-up food and bile making him grimace as he continued to hug the porcelain bowl close.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine nodded gently as Sebastian told him he was feeling heavy and that his head was hurting. Staying close, he put his free hand gently on the other's shoulder to help guide him to sit back against the headboard, noting in his mind what Sebastian was feeling. He felt only a tiny bit relieved when Sebastian smiled at him and he squeezed his hand back. "Okay, good. Good. It's Sunday, but we haven't slept so I really didn't expect you to know that." He joked softly, rubbing Sebastian's arm soothingly as he brought his hand up to kiss it. Blaine looked at Sebastian, his eyes still damp with tears as he cupped Sebastian's cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb along his cheekbone. "You just try to relax and take some deep breaths. I-I don't think I should give you anymore Advil but maybe two more wouldn't hurt..."

He was trying to decide what would be best to do next when Sebastian's urgent tone made his ears perk up. "Of course, of course. I'll be right back." Blaine nodded, pressing another kiss to Sebastian's hand before moving quickly to get off the bed and down the hall to the kitchen. He fumbled through the cabinets to find a glass and got the ginger ale out of the fridge. Now that Blaine was alone for a few moments, the crippling fear started to creep back up on him, causing his hands to shake as he poured the liquid into the glass. As fast as the tears began to fill his eyes, they fell down his cheeks onto the counter and his stomach twisted. He felt nauseous himself and it almost made him dizzy, he placed both of his hands on the counter. Blaine took a deep breath to calm himself when he heard a loud crash come from down the hall.

Blaine wiped at his face and grabbed a box of crackers out of the cabinet quickly before rushing back to find out what the noise was. He stopped when he saw Sebastian wrapped around the toilet in their bathroom. His brow furrowed and he placed the glass and crackers on the counter before moving around his boyfriend to sit on the edge of the bathtub. "Oh, baby," he whispered softly, placing his hand on the other's back and rubbing it soothingly. Blaine stayed with Sebastian until he was finished, rubbing his back and whispering loving words of comfort to him as he emptied his stomach completely and then some. When they were sure Sebastian wouldn't be throwing up anymore and he could make it to the bed again, Blaine helped him to stand up. He held onto the taller to keep him steady while Sebastian brushed his teeth and he stayed close to him all the way back to the bedroom, not letting go of him until he was lying back down. Blaine only left again for a brief moment to bring Sebastian the ginger ale, the crackers, and the trash can from the bathroom just in case he needed to throw up again.

Blaine tried his best to stay strong and in charge of the situation for Sebastian even though his feelings of fear and worry were practically eating him from the inside out, making him feel mentally weak. He placed the trash can next to Sebastian's side of the bed, leaving the glass of ginger ale on the nightstand before getting into the bed with his boyfriend, sitting up against the headboard, pulling the blanket over them both. "I brought you some crackers to settle your stomach if you need." He commented, the crackers sitting in his lap. "C'mere," He whispered, gently getting closer to Sebastian. "What do you need, love? Anything? Do you feel any better now?" Blaine gently asked his questions again as to not overwhelm him.

Sebastian Smythe:

When Blaine appeared in the bathroom, Sebastian cursed again under his breath. He felt tears prickling the edges of his eyes as he coughed over the smelly toilet. With a trembling hand, he flushed the nastiness away. He shuddered with uneasy breaths and leaned against Blaine's firm hold. Sebastian wore a deep frown as Blaine helped to pick him up from the bathroom floor. He hated that he had to be so dependent; it was something he wasn’t familiar with and it made him feel weak. He supposed that if anyone had to be helping him because he couldn’t help himself, he was glad that it was Blaine. Never in his life had he appeared so downtrodden except only in front of his boyfriend. He grimaced when given the option to brush his teeth; he knew it was probably better but most of him felt too weary to be bothered. Still, with Blaine standing right beside him and holding him, he felt it was doable. “Sorry,” he mumbled an apology to his boyfriend after he rinsed his mouth out. Looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he noticed how pale he appeared, his ashy skin contrasted against his red-rimmed eyes. Looking past his reflection to Blaine’s, he could see that the man was very clearly distraught. He could see the trail of tears that had run down the sides of his face, most of it rubbed dry against his skin. He hated that he'd made his boyfriend worry so much and it was causing him severe emotional distress. Sebastian knew he needed to see Professor Garrick as soon as possible to fix whatever was wrong with him.

For now, however, he just wanted to rest. He supposed if things continued to escalate or get worse, Blaine would take him to the hospital. But God, how he hated hospitals.

He was grateful for Blaine helping him back to bed, knowing there was no way he could've done it himself without stumbling over again. When they settled into bed, Sebastian looked at the crackers and ginger ale but throwing up had depleted any and all appetite he might've had. Thinking it best to at least have a little something to settle his stomach, he sat up and carefully took small sips of the drink. He noticed that his strength was at an all-time low, his grip on the glass trembling enough that Blaine had to assist him. Feeling so weak made Sebastian frown again, sighing to himself. He slumped against the headboard and looking up from the crackers in Blaine's lap, he contemplated the questions being asked of him.

“I'm okay,” he croaked, knowing Blaine could see right through his lie. “I'm… I'm sorry for scaring you.” Sebastian had no idea what he looked like but he knew a seizure was probably terrifying to witness. He pursed his lips, wanting to tell Blaine how he was afraid that either the lightning strike or his abilities might be fucking with his body. He wanted to confide in Blaine and express how he was afraid to lie back down because he didn't want to experience another seizure. After a moment of silence, Sebastian weakly took Blaine's into his own. He hated that he couldn't keep his hands from trembling. “Do… What do you think’s wrong with me?” He asked, seeking reassurance. He knew Blaine most likely had no real answers, but Sebastian didn't care. He carefully leaned against his boyfriend, still feeling very tired and uncomfortable.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine looked at Sebastian, raising his eyebrows when Sebastian asked him what he thought was wrong. He felt at a loss for words because he had absolutely no idea. His eyes fell to their joined hands, his mind racing for an answer he could give Sebastian to not worry him further but also one that wouldn't be a lie. He had no idea what to tell him. Blaine noticed that Sebastian’s hands were shaking still, with a frown he placed his other hand on top of their others, shaking his head. “I-” He couldn't finish his sentence right away, then he thought of when Sebastian was struck by lightning and the days he spent in the hospital. Blaine remembered the doctors and nurses telling him of Sebastian suffering from a few seizures after he had been struck by lightning and it clicked in his mind that that was probably the reason. “When you were struck by lightning...the nurses told me you'd had a seizure and you had a couple of them- I wasn't present for them so I don't know how bad this was compared to those.”

Blaine’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about Sebastian being struck by lightning and how the seizure might be connected and it worried him even more, sighing softly he put the crackers aside on his nightstand so he could hold Sebastian close to him. “M-maybe we should take you to the hospital? Or you should go see your doctor? I mean what if this is some complication to you being struck by lightning?” He suggested carefully, already knowing that Sebastian would decline the idea of going to the hospital considering how much he despised them. Blaine made a mental note to get in touch with Santana when Sebastian finally went to sleep to see if she could find out any answers for him. “I-I mean, I know you hate that kind of thing but it might be necessary.” He took his free hand and rubbed Sebastian’s forearm. “You know that I will stay with you, right here by your side, no matter what.”

With a soft breath, Blaine looked over at his boyfriend, really looking at him. He felt eternally grateful to whatever it was that kept saving Sebastian and kept keeping him alive. The past half an hour had shaken Blaine to his core and he was terrified that he would never get to speak to Sebastian again, or hold him, or touch him, or kiss him, or even see his smile or tell him he loved him. As he watched Sebastian shake with such a vacant expression on his face-- the way his lips turned blue as he struggled to breathe-- he was certain he would die right there and all Blaine could envision was what he would do next. He would have to call an ambulance… He’d have to call Sebastian’s parents and tell them that their son was dead. He would have to tell Sloane. He would come back to that apartment and get into Sebastian’s bed alone, knowing Sebastian would never come back. All of those thoughts ran through his mind as Sebastian was having his seizure and in that moment when he knew things were okay, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that he didn’t have to do all of those things, that Sebastian was okay and alive.

The fear was still inside of him, though, mixing up with that relieved feeling, making him feel nauseated again, his body beginning to tremble from the inside out. Blaine took a deep, shaking breath as he leaned his head against Sebastian’s, pulling him closer for a careful hug. “I...I love you so much, Sebastian. I really do, you know that don’t you?” The thought of being alone always frightened Blaine, but never as much as the thought of being alone without Sebastian in his world did. He wasn’t ready to go to an even darker feeling of being lost when he was just beginning to feel found.

Sebastian Smythe:

It made sense even without knowing about Sebastian’s abilities that the lightning strike was the prime suspect-- especially considering the seizures manifested right after it had happened. Though Sebastian also debated with himself that instead of the lightning, perhaps it had to do with his powers. What if the Speed Force was becoming too much for his human body to handle? He was afraid even though he knew Garrick might have answers for him; he could only imagine how afraid Blaine must be, being completely in the dark.

Sebastian knew that he had really scared his boyfriend. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if he were in Blaine’s shoes. Unable to stop it from happening and not knowing how to fix anything would leave anyone feeling helpless and scared. He could hear the fear thick in Blaine’s voice and feel that same fear trembling through his body as they held each other. Sebastian noticed the way Blaine clung to him as if trying to keep him from vanishing into thin air. He noticed the way Blaine looked into his eyes like he was trying to memorize how he looked in case this were the last time he ever got a really good look. It made Sebastian angry that he was the cause for Blaine’s distress and sadness.

“Of course I know that, Blaine. I love you too; I promise you that I’m not going anywhere.” Sebastian said confidently, knowing that regardless of what he knew or not, he needed to comfort and reassure Blaine. “I’ll go and see a doctor; when I was still in the hospital they referred me to a neurologist so I’ll see him.” Though a white lie, Sebastian was definitely going to confide in some professional help. He knew that much would relieve Blaine at least a little bit. “I’ll skip out on work early tomorrow-- maybe right after my lunch break-- and I’ll go see a doctor, okay? I’ll take whatever tests or medications they make me take to get me better again.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine felt only slightly comforted by the fact that Sebastian knew of a neurologist already that he could go see or at least call to try and get some answers. Meanwhile, Blaine still planned on getting his own answers from his own scientist just to have a second opinion and he knew one thing was for certain: he wasn't letting Sebastian out of his sight for a while. "Oh, no." Blaine shook his head, looking at Sebastian, the feeling of being irrationally upset bubbling up in his chest. "No, no, no. You are not going to work tomorrow. Not after today. No, you are staying in bed tomorrow and resting and the only way you are going anywhere is if you go to the doctor."

He pulled Sebastian closer, it already set in his mind that he would not budge on this subject. The thought of the other getting up in the morning and going to work like nothing was wrong worried him and it made him a little frustrated that Sebastian didn't really grasp the gravity of the events that had happened. "Seb, I thought you were going to die.” Blaine said, the tears boiling up in his eyes as he looked at the taller, shaking his head as his gaze fell down. "Y-you can't just go to work and act like nothing happened. What if it happens again?" He sniffled. "Wh-what if it happens and I'm not there? What if it happens on the way and you fall out on the sidewalk-- or if you're sitting at your desk and you hit your head? Sebastian, I can't...I can't sit at home all day tomorrow or go out and be worried about you the whole time." He knew that he was partially being selfish while looking out for Sebastian at the same time but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to his boyfriend.

Blaine's forehead wrinkled and he looked at Sebastian, sighing softly, wiping at his own eyes. "I'm-I'm sorry, I really shouldn't be freaking out on you like this. It's not your fault and I do not want you to feel bad about it. I don't want you to feel like you have to apologize anymore-- it's not something that you can control." He said, placing his hand on Sebastian's cheek to look him in the eyes. "It's my job to take care of you now, you know." A sweet smile pulled at the corner of his lips through the sad expression on his face. "I care about you so much. Please don't feel like you are any trouble and please don't feel bad about this; don't say sorry." He repeated, trying his best to get Sebastian to hear him.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian mentally chastised himself for being insensitive and not thinking things through. Because of course Blaine was worried about him and minutes after having a seizure meant he would be under a very watchful eye until they could get some answers. He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage going off to see Garrick without Blaine raising any questions; he might have to go through with seeing an actual doctor at a hospital just to ease Blaine’s worry-racked mind. The tests and medications would prove to be pointless on his meta-human body, but if it all would at least put Blaine’s worries to rest then it would be worth it. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking-- I won’t go to work tomorrow.” Sebastian told his boyfriend, bringing him into a tight hug. “I’ll rest all of tonight and tomorrow. I’ll call my doctor to make an appointment and if I can’t get something for the next day or at least the day after, we’ll go to urgent care or something, okay?” He rubbed Blaine’s back and tried his best to comfort him, wanting to do anything and everything possible to make him feel like everything was alright. “You’ll come with me if you can, so you’re in the loop with whatever’s going on with me. Does that sound good?”

Although Sebastian didn’t know that it could happen again, he thought it better to assume nothing like this would happen again. He hoped that Garrick would be able to provide a cure for his seizures and this was just a one-time event. “I’m not going to die, Blaine. I promise; I’m not going to get hurt again or leave-- or anything-- okay?” He pulled away from the hug to look into Blaine’s eyes, his thumb brushing at the corners where a tear was threatening to fall. He rested his forehead against Blaine’s, the contact easing his headache slightly. With a soft hum, Sebastian pressed a careful kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, wanting more to reassure him that everything would be okay.

Keeping true to his promise to rest, Sebastian burrowed himself under the sheets and looked up at Blaine. “See? Resting.” He reached out to grab his boyfriend’s hand, his thumb stroking in little circles. “I’m gonna be okay, B. I feel fine-- just tired.” He didn’t know if those words would help any since he’d said nearly the same thing before his episode but he really did feel like all he needed was a bit of rest. Now that he was lying back down, Sebastian could feel the full-force of his sleepiness strike back with a vengeance. He nuzzled closer to Blaine, finding comfort in his scent and his presence. “Y’know, I might rest better if you were lying down too. I always sleep better when you’re with me.” His voice grew softer as he continued to speak, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as Sebastian began to drift to sleep. He knew that Blaine also must’ve been very tired; after all, they were both up for nearly the same period of time and being worry-stricken probably didn’t help that at all. “Need you to rest, too, B…” Sebastian yawned as he lazily and blindly reached up to caress Blaine’s torso. “Gotta take care of you too.” It wasn’t much later after he said that that Sebastian had fully fallen asleep. His chest rose with deep and even breaths, his body beginning to fully relax. As if on cue, Sebastian’s leg twitched hard enough to be deemed a jerking motion, though it wasn’t enough to wake the man. Instead, he stirred slightly in his sleep before relaxing again.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine just nodded gently when Sebastian told him he could go with him to the doctor to be sure everything was okay, even though he had already decided that he was going regardless. And he also had decided that he would get Santana’s opinion on the matter, maybe even get in touch with some of his other science-smart friends to see if they could give him any answers or solutions. Blaine kissed Sebastian back softly before he settled down a little more into the blankets with his boyfriend. “I love you.” He whispered, his mind racing with flashes of watching Sebastian have a seizure and the things he thought running through his mind. Subconsciously, he pulled the taller closer to him, holding him as if it were the last time he’d ever feel him in his arms. “I will be right here when you wake up, I promise.” He whispered as he began rubbing Sebastian’s back soothingly. “Get some rest and don’t worry about me.” Blaine pressed his lips against Sebastian’s forehead for a gentle kiss.

As Sebastian fell asleep Blaine just held him close, rubbing his back and watching him carefully. Between every breath his boyfriend took, Blaine held his own just for a moment until Sebastian exhaled or inhaled. He was scared to death to fall asleep himself, fearing that when he woke up Sebastian wouldn’t be there. Just when he began to relax just an inch, thinking the other was asleep, Sebastian jerked in his arms only once and it startled Blaine enough for his heart to jump into his throat. “Seb?” He whispered, holding really still for a moment to see if anything else happened, he noted that Sebastian’s arm and fingers twitched a couple of times but other than that and a slight stirring to get comfortable, Sebastian continued to fall fast asleep.

When Blaine was certain his boyfriend was deep enough asleep that it wouldn’t bother him when he got out of bed-- and when his heartbeat slowed down enough for him to breathe-- he slipped out from under the covers to quickly slip away to get his laptop and his phone. Before returning to the bedroom he called Santana to fill her in, she calmed him down enough by telling him that most likely everything would be fine. She also basically told him the same thing the 9-1-1 operator told him, that when it happens all he can really do is watch the time and wait for it to be over and make sure that Sebastian doesn’t hurt himself. Santana also told him that if it happened again and he wasn’t happy with the doctor’s results, if he could get a sample of Sebastian’s blood to her she would do her best to figure out what was wrong and what they could do. He thanked her before hanging up and making his way back to the bedroom to settle into bed next to his sleeping boyfriend, his laptop in hand.

After hours and hours of looking up everything he possibly could on seizures, what to do, and what caused them, he felt worse than he did before he started. The cause of a seizure could be anything from minor to completely major and he, of course, would assume the worst. Another sleepless night eventually morphed into a sleepless morning and he didn’t end up falling asleep until almost the next afternoon when Sebastian finally woke up and insisted he was fine, that he wouldn’t leave Blaine’s side while he slept.

#seblaine #seblaine rp #blaine anderson rp #sebastian smythe rp #paras #009

1 note · View note