#tw accidentally induced labor
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Subject: BNHA, Dabi aka Touya Todoroki
Title: House Party Bully 4 (NSFW, fem reader)
Trigger Warning: Non con, pregnancy, (accidentally) induced labor, drinking, smoking (weed), obsession, possessive behavior, forced marriage, dick piercings, family trauma, voyeurism, drunk kisses, jealousy
âAvoid,â Touya said slowly, finally, âthe others when you can.â It was obvious advice, especially after what his siblings had done to you, but you just nodded and laid on his bed. He glanced at you and sat down beside you. For a moment, you thought heâd rub your back or pet your hair, but he pushed you onto your side, forcing you to face away from him. âLaying on your side is better for the baby.âÂ
Right. Even if Touya was, arguably, better than the rest of his family, he was just like them: only after the fetus growing inside you and the things that came with it. Milk, whatever prestige fucked up rich families like these got with grandkids, and ownership over you.Â
âIâll get a job,â Touya added suddenly, âa good one, then we can move out.âÂ
We. The word felt like an umbilical cord around your throat, connecting you to him and the baby you didnât want. You were choking. But you needed him. Just as much as he wanted you to need him. âDonât worry about moving out,â you mumbled into his sheets, âIâm sure your father wouldnât let us.âÂ
Touya twitched beside you. He seemed to be thinking because he was quiet for a long moment. The mattress caved closer to you. âHey,â he said, voice soft, âyou didnât like my dad better, right?âÂ
Something cold washed down your body. Every muscle from your head to your toes froze and curled in on themselves. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
You felt him roll over, his back nearly pressed against yours, heat soaking through your shirt with unwanted comfort. He was silent for a moment, like heâd rather drop the subject, but then pushed on to say, âYou didnât like him better when he fucked you, did you?âÂ
With as much ice as you could muster you replied, âI didnât like it when either of you assaulted me.âÂ
That seemed to rile Touya up because the bed shook with the weight of him leaping off it. He grabbed your arm, forced you onto your back, his grip bruising. âI didnât assault you!â
âThen what would you prefer to call it Touya?â You glared at him, the ice in your body replaced with insufferable heat. âRape? Teaching a rat a lesson?âÂ
He backed off at that. âNo, it was...â He bit his lip. âForget it.âÂ
He made for the door and your rage washed away with panic. âWhere are you going?â You may have hated him, but you needed him to keep the hungry mouths of his siblings off you.Â
Touya stopped in the doorway and sighed. âIâm going out. The others wonât bother you if you stay in here.â He started to close the door behind him and stopped, one cerulean eye locking onto you. âIf you need anything, you can call me.âÂ
You wanted to say something back, something biting and cruel, but the ugly truth was that heâd saved you and you needed him. Your throat was tight when you said, âOkay.âÂ
The door shut.Â
You laid back on your side. How did Touya bullying you turn into this? You were both just college students and suddenly youâd been roped into his fucked up family and forced to have his fucked up baby. There was a little him inside you. The thought made you sick to your stomach, but you laid there and held onto the sheets that smelled like your captor. The safest Todoroki. What an ironic thought. It was like calling him the least poisonous snake: regardless of which one sunk their teeth into you, you weren't coming out unscathed.
At some point you must have fallen asleep because you were startled awake by your phone ringing. You were too groggy to check the ID and answered. âHello?â Your voice was weak from disuse.Â
âDid I wake you?â Ice ate your bones when you heard the voice. Deep baritone and stone cold. Enji Todoroki continued, âSorry. I managed to pull some strings with a friend of mine to keep this quiet. Long story short,â he paused, âwelcome to the family Mrs. Todoroki.âÂ
Every word, every reaction, every thought vanished into a vacuum, a vacuum named shock. Heâd done it. Any hope of escape after the baby was born vanished just like that. You were branded with his name just as your body would never be the same after it delivered his baby. You couldnât even muster up the strength to hang up the phone.Â
âRei and I,â Enji continued as if he hadnât just destroyed your future, âare on our way home now. Iâve got another doctorâs appointment scheduled tomorrow.âÂ
You didnât reply.
âWeâll able to find out the gender of the baby,â he said, âReiâs eager to know but Touya might prefer the surprise. Do you have a preference?â
The blank space that held your feelings erupted. Your preference? Now he cared about your fucking preference? Fuck no. Fuck that. You screamed and hung up, throwing your phone across the room into a pile of dirty laundry. You wanted to punch Enji in his stupid face. You wanted to kick Touya in his breeding balls. You wanted to... You screamed again and this time tears streamed down your face. Defiance leaked out of you with every sob. You were trapped.Â
*******************************************************************************************
For the next four and a half months it felt like Enji was keep you away from Touya. He dragged you from appointment to appointment, insisting you stay in your room. Thankfully the other three hadn't so much as knocked on your door, but that didn't ease your anxiety in the slightest.
As your belly grew rounder it became harder to attend classes without people gossiping, especially with Enji by your side. When you couldn't fit into your desk one day it hit you that you'd have to balance Touya, school, and a needy baby. Suddenly you weren't so sure you wanted to attend classes in person.
It didn't help when you could feel it, yes it because Enji had decided to withhold the baby's gender, kicking inside you. It hurt. It was like being bullied by Touya all over again. The thought made you want to cry, but you were in class and simply bit your lip. The baby kept kicking.
After you got home from school, there was a note on the kitchen counter. "Out of town for Shouto's jujutsu match. Back Monday - Enji." The house was empty. You had the Todoroki manor to yourself. Was this your chance to run, while they were all gone?
But the front door opened. Touya stumbled in with his friends behind him. He looked at you, snarled, and walked away.
Toga smiled at you. "We're having a party tonight, feel free to come and bring your friend, too!" She pointed at your swollen belly and giggled following Touya.
Shigaraki and Spinner barely nodded at you. Twice gave you a thumbs up.
So this was how Touya got away with his parties.
But still the party could be your escape. A million cars on the lawn andâ
You doubled over grabbing the counter to hold yourself steady. Throbbing pain burst around belly button as the tiny Todoroki inside you reminded you of it's presence. The baby could come any day. And then where would you go? Even if you ran you'd be alone, almost due, without any of your things: including the funds needed to simply give birth. No wonder Enji was comfortable taking off: you didn't have another option to leave without endangering yourself or the baby. Fuck.
Grabbing a snack you went back to your room and went to sleep.
*******************************************************************************************
Pounding base ripped you from your dreams. Each vibration traveling down your body and making every cell electrify. A familiar headache formed behind your eyes. This was just like the party nine months ago, disorienting and loud and fuck... The base was making you sick. This needed to stop. Touya. You needed to find Touya.
Quickly you pulled out your phone and called the number that felt like signing away your soul to the devil. It rang and rang and rang. Nothing. Shit. At least you knew where Touya would be. He could stop this.
You made for the door, wobbling and waddling with that cursed ten pound weight on your stomach. Nausea made it hard to focus on where you were. You wanted to vomit. You used the walls to help keep yourself upright as you descended into the bass, cringing when it started pumping louder.
Just gotta get to the study, you thought, that's where Touya always was with his friends.
Even thought you'd lived here for what felt like the better part of your pregnancy, you hadn't had the freedom to walk around alone. It was so big and twisted and confusing, especially since you could barely move. But you could also remember when Touya dragged you to his room, the smell of liquor on his breath and weed in his clothes.
He'd been terrifying then. An unknowable monster that plagued your school life. Now, he was still a monster, but one you were beginning to understandâno matter how much you didn't want to.
You understood that Touya was a result of his toxic family. You understood that Touya would likely never have normal romantic relationships. You understood that you were now parts of both these things. You understood that none of this was your fault and you didn't deserve any of it. And nothing would change in understanding your situation.
You pressed on, breathing hard, and stopped. God you wanted to sit and sleep, but the bass was an ache in your bones that kept biting you awake. You didn't have the energy for this. You checked where you were and nearly sobbed. Big chocolate doors with ornate handles. The study.
You burst through the doors. The smell of weed hit you before anything, making you double over coughing. Enjiâs study was exactly how you remembered it, though the potent smell of weed this time was far worse. It was like your body couldnât handle even the thought of it, your stomach churning, bile lapping at your esophagus. Voices fluttered through the room overlapping and swelling until you could pull out Touya's, talking excitedly. He cut himself and then started again, "There she is." His words were slurred, messy. Heâd been drinking.Â
He whipped around, nearly falling over his legs to get to you. A hiccup raked up his body and he burst into giggles. âSheâs here,â he said again, âshe came all the way down here to see me. Are you enjoying the party, babe?â Touya wrapped you in a foul smelling hug, burying his face in your hair.Â
Despite how uncomfortable you were, you couldnât help noticing how he seemed to be avoiding your bloated stomach. âTurn off the music,â you said, âits giving me a headache.âÂ
âBut the party,â Touya whined in your ear.Â
âYou and your friends can smoke and drink, I donât care, but the music has to stop. Its driving me crazy.âÂ
Whatever happy attitude Touya wore vanished. He dropped his arms from around you leaving you cold. âIts driving you crazy?â He backed you up against the wall, his face inches from yours, a snarl across his mouth. âDo you have any idea how Iâve felt? Iâm the one who knocked you up and I barely even see you. We live in the same fucking house! You belong to me and yet you let Fuyu and Natsu suck on your tits like it was their baby inside you.â His blue eyes were fire, boring into you. âThe baby isnât dadâs or my siblings. Its mine,â his fire died out in a moment, head hanging low, the tips of his hair tickling your nose, âeven if I didnât want it.âÂ
Your mouth fell open. This was his scheme, his plan, to knock you up, keep you at his side and he didnât even want it? âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?!â Tears exploded out of your eyes, your nose swelling. âYou took my freedom, my life, and you didnât even want it?â Your voice broke into a shriek, âYou bullied me every fucking day because you have a fucking crush on me andâandâ.â You burst into sobs, whatever thoughts you had died on your tongue.Â
Touya stared at you, his eyebrows narrowed. You thought he was going to yell at you, tell you it was your fault for making him like you in the first place. âYou know,â his voice was rough, deep, âI always liked it when you yelled at me.â And then his mouth was on yours, teeth against teeth and tongue sloppily trying to enter your mouth.Â
You tried to push him off, anger flaring in your chest like a wildfire, but Touya was bigger and stronger. Even drunk and high he was powerful. Another reminder of the night heâd assaulted you. Another reminder that the Todorokis could lord over you however they pleased.Â
One of his friends started laughing. âIâve never seen Touya get this worked up,â it sounded like Spinner, âwonder how far heâll go.âÂ
Touya pulled back, spit connecting your mouths. His chest heaved and so did yours as you both took in oxygen. He turned around, smiled. âYou just want to see my dick.âÂ
The others laughed in that way stoners did when they werenât sure what was happening but they were still enjoying themselves. âCâmon,â Shigaraki laughed, âwhip it out, Toga said you got a new piercing.âÂ
âGotta get hard first,â Touya laughed. He dragged you to the automan and pushed you onto your back, your head just a foot from where the others sat smoking. The smile on his face vanished when your shirt rode up over your swollen stomach, your belly button flat against the stretched out skin. Slowly he put his hand on your stomach, feeling how taut it was and froze when the baby kicked.Â
He met your eyes. âIâ.â
âCâmon Touya,â Toga groaned, her mouth stretched into a hungry smile, âshow us how you knocked her up.â They all laughed at that. Of all of them, you would have thought that Toga would be on your side, at least telling them off, but she seemed just as into your torture as the rest of them.Â
Touya snapped out of whatever thought he was in, smiling that doped out smile again. He wrapped your legs around his waist and bucked into your clothed cunt.Â
A high pitched shriek left your mouth. It was just humping and yet your body was reacting to it like Touya had just pinched your clit. The fiery rage inside you turned into a different type of heat. âPlease,â you grabbed Touyaâs shirt, âdonât do this.âÂ
He kissed your cheek. âIâm just giving my friends a show,â he smiled cruelly, ârat.â He bucked again and this time you bit your tongue to keep from crying out. "Ah-ah," Touya whined, "you're not allowed to hold back. We're putting on a show." He dug his tongue into your mouth again, careful to make sure you had nothing to hold back your cries except for him.
He roughly bucked against you again, his flat stomach rubbing over your swollen one. His friends cooed and cawed as he humped you through your clothes, his cock growing stiff and swollen in his pants. Touya grunted into your mouth and then pulled off gasping. "Fuck, I want to be inside." He stepped away, clawing at his pants to free himself.Â
You tried to get up, run away, but his friends pinned you down, held you for him.Â
Touya didnât seem to notice the assist, too distracted trying to unhook one of the piercings from his zipper. When he finally managed to free himself, you saw the prince albert piercing youâd felt the first time and new ones along the bottom. Near the base of his cock was the beginnings of a jacobâs ladder.Â
He crossed back over to you and yanked off your pants with your panties following close behind. He stared at your exposed entrance, a soft drunk giggle escaping his lips. âI donât think I got a good enough look at this last time.â He kissed your clit and just as quickly bit into it making you shriek. âGod,â he groaned, âyouâre pretty.â He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in.Â
A hiss left his mouth, his hands gripping the automan tightly. âFuuuuuuuck, you werenât this tight last time.âÂ
âLast time,â your voice nearly broke, âI wasnât heavily pregnant.âÂ
He smirked at you, âThat must be the secret to good sex then.â Touya didn't wait for you to adjust, sliding all the way out and back in, his piercings dragging roughly against your walls. A low groan rippled out of his throat. He hunkered down above you, practically tucking himself into you with his head buried in your neck and stomach against yours. He kept up that rough pace as his friends smoked and laughed.Â
You winched when the baby started kicking again.Â
Touya froze. Heâd felt it, too. He lifted himself up, keeping his cock firmly inside you, and ran his hands over your belly. You couldnât decipher the look on his face. âHey, calm down,â he said, âDaddyâs right here, thereâs no need to freak out. Donât be so selfish with Mommyâs cunt.âÂ
He started up his rhythm again, rougher and deeper. You shrieked when he hit your cervix and then did it again, taking your cries as encouragement. âStop it,â you begged, pulling at his shirt, âdonât do that youâre gonnaâ.â
âGonna make you cum,â Touya chuckled as if heâd finished your sentence for you. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, practically shoving your already impregnated form into a mating press. Each thrust had your heavy belly bouncing, your swollen tits leaking, your throat raw from crying. It should have been uncomfortable and terrible but the ugly truth was Touya knew how to fuck you well, from the first time heâd assaulted you to now, he felt good.Â
He was better than his father.Â
Touya growled as he started pumping faster, ramming your cervix harder and harder untilâ
You screamed. This wasnât you cumming, this was something different, something old and terrible that had your entire body shaking and flexing at once. Hot fluid poured out of you and onto the automan, splashing the front of Touyaâs jeans and shirt.Â
He froze, that careless smile wiped away in less than a second. âWhat was that?â
âHoly shit,â Shigaraki muttered, âI think you broke her water.â And then he burst into laughter. Everyone was laughing, everyone except you and Touya.Â
âNo,â he whined, ânonononononono. Please donât, no.â He pulled out of you and tried to cover your entrance but it wasnât done leaking. âIâm not ready for a baby. Iâm not ready to be a father. I donât want... I didnât...â He locked eyes with you, fear coloring the blue color of his eyes. Of every expression youâd seen him wear, fear was not one of them: until now. He looked at you like you could do something about it, like you could just hold it in and wait until tomorrow, but the baby was coming and it hurt.Â
You screamed again and the stoners stopped laughing.Â
âBro,â Toga said, âI think sheâs actually, like, yâknow.âÂ
Touya collapsed on his hands and knees, tears flowing down his face. His chest caved and expanded as he panted. âNo,â he kept crying. He crawled across the floor to his phone, quickly opening it and dialing a number. You could barely hear the exchange over your pain, a deep and terrible tearing, but you did hear Touya say, âI didnât mean to. Dad, please, help me.â
You donât know how long you laid there curled on your side, sobbing in pain, but the study doors burst open, Enji reeking of cold night air in just a button down and slacks. He looked between you and Touya, sighed, and scooped you off the automan. âWeâre going to the hospital, youâre gonna be fine.âÂ
You did not feel like youâd be fine.Â
Touya had sloppily redressed himself, still crying. He followed Enji out into the car. He climbed into the passenger seat while Enji buckled you up in the back. You grit your teeth to keep from screaming again.Â
Enji shook the car as he climbed into the driverâs seat and peeled away from the Todoroki mansion. âI warned you,â he growled at his son, âthat you needed to be delicate with her and what did you do? You tried to fuck her to impress your friends.â
âIâm sorry,â Touya sobbed.Â
âYou could have given her, or your baby an infection or worse,â he growled, âdonât do it again next time.â
You tried not to think about that last comment.Â
The hospital was quick and efficient, taking you into the delivery room. Your mind was blank as they talked about contractions and potential complications. And then you were holding someoneâs hand and screaming like youâd never screamed before, in more pain than youâd ever experienced in your life, for more hours than you thought possible in a day.Â
When it was done, a nurse dumped your newborn on your chest, a tiny little lump of flesh so red he matched his hair. His fatherâs hair. His grandfatherâs hair. A baby boy. A nurse said something about a name but all you could do was lay there and watch as the baby opened his cerulean eyes and began to wail.
#Raven Writes#Touya Todoroki#Dabi#Touya Todoroki x Reader#Dabi x Reader#Yandere Touya Todoroki#Yandere Dabi#BNHA#My Hero Academia#tw non con#tw pregnancy#tw accidentally induced labor#tw drinking#tw smoking#tw weed#tw obsession#tw possessive behavior#tw forced marriage#tw dick piercings#tw family trauma#tw voyeurism#tw drunk kisses#tw jealousy
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A rant about Scopolamine
The most recent chapter of The Dark I Know Well briefly mentions the use of a childbirth drug called Scopolamine, which induces a state known as âtwilight sleepâ.
tw: birth trauma, episiotomy, medical trauma, medical malpractice, restraint, medical abuse, forceps, and non-graphic images of medical birth.
No one asked for this, but I have a lot to say on the topic, so I decided I would give a bit of a ted talk on it. (Continued under the cut).
Scopolamine provides an amnesiac effect, meaning that you will not remember the events that occurred while you were under its influence. A team of German doctors developed a technique in the early 20th century for combining Scopolamine with Morphine to both lessen labor pains and wipe the process of the birth from their test subjectâs memories.Â
Unfortunately, Scopolamine can induce delirium and hallucinations, and people would regularly become violent and hysterical while under its influence, thrashing, screaming, and accidentally harming themselves or others. For this reason, the German doctors began putting their patients in states of sensory deprivation, which lessened the risk of this. Their laboring test subjects would be blindfolded and have their ears plugged with cotton soaked with oil. They would additionally be bound to a crib-like bed with leather straps in case these measures did not work and they became violent anyways.
While the technique was initially met with skepticism, the demand for pain-free childbirth was so high, and rave reviews were piling in from satisfied parents, so eventually American doctors caved to the pressure and travelled to Germany to learn the technique.Â
However, the widespread implementation of it was poorly done, and as the subject pool grew, more and more people began coming forwards with negative experiences they had had while birthing under the influences of the drug.Â
The German doctors had two separate groups of test subjects. Those of a âNervous Temperamentâ (translation: upper class women) and âWomen of No Great Intelligenceâ (translation: poor women). American doctors almost exclusively observed the second group, and the techniques they learned and brought back to the states were brutal, often downright sadistic.
While the doses of Scopolamine and Morphine had been highly monitored, and individualized to each test subject in Germany, American doctors approved a standardized dose of the drugs that every patient received, to disastrous effect.Â
Additionally, with less doctors and nurses available for monitoring per patient, sensory deprivation took a backseat to restraint. Laboring patients would be shackled to hospital beds, often also while wearing straightjackets. The standardized dose of Morphine was rarely enough to make a dent in the pain of contractions, and the confusing effects of Scopolamine made it so people in labor had no ability to understand what was happening to them, nor why they were in pain. This rendered them unable to get into the âflowâ of labor, which is generally understood to be the best way for unmedicated births to procede without trauma.Â
And since they were bound to beds and receiving morphine, labor dragged on often into a days long process. (Morphine, like most sedatives, causes contractions to fall out of a regular pattern, which makes labor stall and freedom of movement is essential for encouraging the baby down into the birth canal, which puts pressure on the cervix and increases dilation, as well as speeds the pushing stage). During the days in which they lay bound in hospital beds they would be refused food, and would often be neglected, laying in puddles of their own urine, vomit, and feces for hours on end.Â
(image cropped so as not to violate tumblrâs terms of service regarding nudity)
By the time that they were ready to push, most laboring patients were so hysteric and so confused that they were unable to respond to the urges of their bodies and the instructions of the doctors and nurses, meaning that high forceps deliveries became the norm, where the doctor would cut into the flesh of the perineum to widen the vaginal entrance (known as an episiotomy), reach into the vaginal canal with two spoon shaped blades (forceps), and pull the baby out by the head, pausing physical damage and trauma to both parent and baby.Â
In addition to the effects on the parent, morphine is a drug that can cross the placenta, meaning that it can be passed to the baby through the bloodstream. Therefore, babies were born more and more often dangerously sedated, which impacted their respiratory efforts. This is what caused the practice of hanging babyâs upside down from the feet and slapping them on the buttocks, in order to shock them enough to combat the effects of the sedative.Â
The pain did not end there, though, for when patients woke in the postpartum, they would typically have massive birth injuries to recover from, and have no memory of delivering their baby. Many people recall having a baby brought into the room and feeling no connection to it, going so far as to say they were not truly sure that they had been brought the correct baby. This caused huge issues in bonding, and created a skyrocket in recorded cases of postpartum depression (although it was not known by that name). As twilight sleep became more and more popular for births, more and more people began experiencing traumatic flashbacks to their birthing experience, remembering the pain, confusion, and mistreatment in excruciating detail.Â
Luckily, Scopolamine began falling from popularity around 1915 following the death of one of its most prominent supporters while birthing under its effects, and the practice became rarer and rarer. However, many hospitals did continue to administer the drug for childbirth well into the 60â˛s and 70â˛s, often not gaining consent nor even warning their patients that the drug would be given, or how it would affect them and their mental state. As such, patients and their partners began to wonder at the odd bruising caused by the restraints, and would ask about it in the postpartum. To keep this from happening, doctors switched to using restraints lined with lambâs wool, to minimize bruising.Â
It is easy for us now to look back and condemn the paternalistic practices of twilight sleep birthing, but to suffragettes and first wave feminists, the promise of a pain-free childbirth was too good of an offer to refuse. Prior to this, there was no option for any sort of medicinal pain relief during labor, aside from a general anesthetic administered during c sections (which were, at that time, rarely performed due to their high mortality rates). Many doctors were even adamantly against the advent of pain control during labor, citing the bible and claiming that women were made to suffer the pains of childbirth in repentance for Eveâs sin, and to circumvent that would to be to go against the will of God.Â
And while we are lucky that in todayâs world there are now a wide variety of pain relief measures available for those who wish to use them during labor and birth, twilight sleep marked the shift of birth from the home to the hospital, sweeping aside centuries-old traditional birth practices and disregarding the knowledge of the birth process that midwives had handed down over generations. This brief period in American history left a remarkable impact on the birthing culture, and has lead to a practice of attempting to âcontrolâ birth that still persists today, taking the process out of the home and out of the parentâs hands, and reducing choice based on a standard of practice that has often been proven to be doing more harm than good.Â
Even though The Dark I Know Well is intended to be set in the modern age (or in the nearish future), the patriarchal setting and disrespect of women it portrays would logically extend to its birth practices, which is why I chose Scopolamine for use in lower upper class births.
#scopolamine#morphine#birth#birth trauma#childbirth#labor and delivery#tw: medical abuse#tw: birth trauma#tw: drugging#episiotomy#forceps#birth rape#patriarchal and paternalistic birth practices#obstetric abuse#kanej#kanej fic
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Fandom: Steven Universe
Rating: T (No TW this chapter, but keep in mind the grander story involves major character injury)
Words: 6.7K~
Summary: The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, heâs almost 16.
Chapter Summary: Aftermath.
This is officially the longest complete SU fic Iâve finished. Iâm so proud ;w;
If you read this and enjoy, Iâd greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. Thank you! <3
_____
Chapter 4: The Remembrance
His mind is shrouded by darkness for long enough that in the split instant the curtains finally part, for just a momentary shard of infinity, the mere idea of any world beyond the pitch-black heâs become so accustomed to seems like a farce.
Resultantly, his journey to consciousness is about as labored and exhausting as a backpacking trip across the Great North in the dead of winter.
Heâs greeted by flashes of white, firstâ intermittent, dim. They splash across his inky sky in unreliable patterns, little bursts of static gearing up to pull him out of this all-consuming nothingness and back to reality. Next, a heartbeat. Steady and sure, such a relief to experience that his throat canât help but constrict in a wave of all-encompassing emotion. (Why is he so relieved to feel something this normal?) Lying somewhere intangibly beyond his awareness, he can hear... water? Waves, he immediately corrects himself. The aching familiarity of waves crashing upon the shore, a sound heâs shared his front yard with for almost his whole life. Elsewhere, the faint scent of herbs and simmering broth delicately pulls on his consciousness, burning through tangled threads of disorientation and confusion and beckoning him awake.
Stevenâs eyelids flutter open, thin lines of light streaming through the gaps between his eyelashes.
The moment he does however, the stark actuality of his situation slams into him with a vengeance. His head throbs as memories begin to re-establish themselves like individual puzzle pieces locking into place.
 I wasâ Dad, and Amethyst... the fountain... empty, and then Pearl had to....
His heartâs pace snaps into overdrive in seconds. Thrashing under his blankets, he manages to kick his arms and torso free so he can rush to sit up. Dizziness assails him as he yanks up the bottom of his pajamas and splays his hand across the smooth, warm surface of that diamond at his core, feeling for cracks, for chips, forâ
 Huh. Imagine that.
Steven inhales deep as he attempts to balance out the pace of his breath, blood still pounding in his ears as he delicately traces a shaking index finger around the edge of the central pentagonal facet of his gem, entirely unblemished and whole. Thereâs no sign of damage, no thin stress fractures left behind. No evidence that it was ever cracked at all, really. For an excruciatingly lengthy moment his brow creases inwards in confusion as he wonders if all this agony was nothing but a stress-induced nightmare. But then again...
He groans, pressing his fingers to one of his throbbing temples as the ambient pain hits him.
Oh stars, everything aches. His head, his limbs, his spine, every square inch of his body feels like heâs been pressed through a meat grinder and ruthlessly spat out on the other side. If thatâs not proof that what happened on his mission with Amethyst was real, then he doesnât know what is. Drowsily, he flops back against his pillow and squeezes his eyelids shut, stubbornly yearning for the comfort and familiarity of sleep-induced unconsciousness. Maybe, just maybe... he can sleep these aches away.
Time passes far too unreliably as heâs laying motionless there, struggling against a hyperactive flood of thoughts to return to his earlier state of rest. Has he been awake for a minute? Half an hour? He has no idea. The only concrete thing he can glean is that he definitely has a headache right now. Maybe even a migraine. Heâs still not sure what the difference between those is supposed to be. Is it a âsquares are rectangles, but rectangles arenât squaresâ sort of scenario? Or are they synonyms? Hmm. Maybe he should ask Dad, heâd probably know. In fact, where is Dad? And howâd he end up in bed in his pajamas, anyways?
Heâs honestly relieved when he hears the unmistakable sound of Pearlâs light, precise footsteps climbing the stairs to his room, if only that it gives him a solid excuse to face reality and stop deluding himself with the tragic, unobtainable lie that is peaceful slumber. He lets his eyes flutter open again.
âHi, Pearl,â he mumbles when she reaches the top step.
Sheâs carrying a small dinner tray with a steaming bowl of something delicious smelling (the broth he recognized earlier?) and a glass of water perched atop. Meeting his half-alert gaze, her expression lights up with a glow of pleasant surprise.
âOh, good, youâre up!â she says, a great deal of the stress locked in her shoulders melting away as she crosses the room towards his bedside. âI was just about to wake you myself, if you werenât already.â
Rubbing away the exhaustion crusted at the corners of his eyes with the joint at the base of his thumb, he watches as Pearl carefully places the tray on the nightstand at his right. With a groan, he bows upwards under his covers, the vertebrae in his back popping and sighing all the while as he stretches. Goodness, heâs not sure his spine has ever felt so stiff and tight. Remind him to never accidentally get hurled against a tree in combat again.
âHow... how long was I out?â he asks then, the workaholic part of him already fearing her answer.
Pearl glances towards the ceiling, her brow creasing as she makes the calculation in her head.
âHmm, I think... around seven hours?â
âWhat??â he cries, shooting upright in bed with the speed of a spring trap. âSeven hours?! Thatâs like, the whole day! I had plans!â
She frowns pensively, gesturing widely with her hands as she replies. âSteven, you were cracked and needed time to recover. A hit like that is bound to take a serious toll on any body, hard-light or not.â
His features morphing into a scowl, he slouches back against the wall. Thatâs a fair point, how disruptive cracks can be for full-Gems as well. Itâs not just a matter of Pearl babying him. Even though they healed Amethystâs fracture fairly quickly, years back, it still took her a few days of rest before she rose to the top of her game again. And as much as heâd love to deny it, right now his whole body honestly feels like itâs been hit head on by a truck at sixty miles per hour. Itâs a dull but constant brand of pain he canât claim heâs ever dealt with before all this mess. That month he shot up almost a foot in height back when he was 14 came close, but even that period of ache was more subtle than this.
âYeah, I guess youâre right,â he says with a heavy sigh, threading his fingers together in his lap.
âAnyways,â she says gently, the reminder of her presence cutting through some of the layers of his pain-induced melancholy, âitâs 5:38 now, just in time for dinner! And I took the liberty of cooking a batch of your favorite soup.â
Unable to help himself, his inner child gasps in sheer joy. He sits up again, slamming his palms to his cheeks as he gushes with excitement. âChicken and vegetable soup with the tiny star noodles??â
Any lingering crankiness about the percentage of the day wasted dissipates into a fine mist as Pearl picks the tray off the nightstand and passes it into his lap, confirming the identity of his homemade dinner. As he begins to eatâ carefully, taking small spoonfuls at first to ensure that his stomach can handle itâ his guardian sits at the edge of his bed and provides him updates on the rest of the familyâs whereabouts. Apparently Garnetâs still halfway across the galaxy, but should be returning home tomorrow the moment sheâs through with her mission. She sends her love, Pearl says. She also texted Connie to let her know what happened, and his friend plans to come over as soon as she can in the morning to spend time with him as he recovers. Meanwhile, Greg left a few minutes before he woke up to hit the store. Heâs picking up some new food for the both of them, and intends to sleep downstairs on the couch the next few nights to keep tabs on him.
âHeâs been really worried about you,â she admits, reaching out for his hand as if she too frets he might suddenly fade into the ether if she takes her eyes off him for one moment. âBefore I told him to step out of the house for some mental rejuvenation, he never left your side.â
Steven responds to her tactile affection with a soft squeeze for her benefit, but quickly lets go to continue eating his soup.
âWell,â he says through a fresh spoonful of food, ââm fine now, so...â Pause to swallow, the bump of his larynx bobbing in his throat. âSo thereâs no need to worry anymore.â
âOh, if only it were that easy,â she comments, a melancholy smile framing her face.
With a sigh, she stands to her feet, smoothing out the edge of the covers where she once sat. Watching this small act, he suddenly wonders if her vast history with deeply troubling experiences like what she had to witness this morning are why sheâs so emotionally drawn to tasks such as tidying and repairing; after all, these do allow her space to exert a small degree of control over areas of her life she might otherwise harbor concern or anxiety towards. Huh. He presses his lips into a tight line as he willfully contemplates this concept. Considering his earlier disappointment about how much daylight heâs wasted, (so many business and socialization meetings heâs missing in town today!), perhaps he inherited a portion of his own workaholic tendencies from emulating her throughout his childhood. He dares not follow this rabbit any further, however... dares not ask what heâs distracting himself from.
 Another time, Universe.
Brimming with a renewed sense of purpose, Pearl crosses towards the narrow patio outside the open slider door, her features returning to their neutral, observant state.
âIn any case,â she continues as she rests her palm flat against the glass, âplease do enjoy the rest of your meal! Iâm going to fetch Amethyst from the observatory. Sheâs been, um... how to say... on Diamond pacifying duty these past few hours, and Iâm sure sheâs desperate for a break.â
He offers a sharp grimace in response to this sentiment, knowing from almost two years of firsthand experience that patiently keeping watch over those Gem monarchs is no easy task. âYouch, my condolences. Feel free to send her in, Iâd love to see her.â
Pearl nods in confirmation, and then slips out the doorway towards the observatoryâs ramp.
He enjoys what little is left of his soup as he waits. Thankfully, his system shows no signs of unrest, which allows him to finish the whole bowl. Good thing, too. He unfortunately recalls losing his breakfast earlier this morning amidst the blunt force of that spiked tail to his stomach, which means heâs had little to no food in him all day. Now, heâs no medical expert, (Connie would likely know the answer thanks to her mom, though), but surely that canât be good for recovery.
Amidst his better wishes, his thoughts turn to all the social meetings and appointments heâd planned for today. He canât imagine Pearl knew his itinerary well enough to contact each and every person heâd unintentionally blown off, so that means from all of their perspectives they waited and waited and he simply... never showed up. Like Mayor Nanefua. He was supposed to discuss logistics about Little Homeschoolâs eventual opening with her at town hall immediately after the corrupted Gem mission. Peridot. He agreed to meet with her at one of the ancient drop ship sites to assist in de-arming it for safety purposes. Lars. Before all this happened, he was genuinely looking forward to hanging out with Lars and the rest of his Gem gang this afternoon. And because he was reckless and got himself cracked on what shouldâve been the most straightforward mission of all time, he let them all down. He groans, slumping backwards until his head clunks against the wall. Ughhh. Stupid, stupid Steven. Now, where on earthâs his phone? He should probably start to clear up this mess.
Steven places his empty bowl on the tray on his nightstand, and begins dutifully searching the tabletop. Before his search can bear any fruit, however, Amethyst bursts into the room, toting one of the handheld diamond communication lines they store in the observatory. (Blessedly, this one comes without self-destruct functionality. Times have sure changed since the daring days when Peridot emphatically called Yellow Diamond a clod.)
âHey, little man!â she chimes when they meet each otherâs glance, her relieved smile admittedly rather infectious. âItâs great to see yaâ up and at âem again.â
He offers a bashful laugh, twirling his finger around a short curl at the nape of his neck. âY-yeah, Iâmââ
âYo, whatâs this here, though?â she interjects, bee-lining to his nightstand to stick her nose in his dinner tray. Her face falls the moment she sees inside the bowl, which heâs dutifully scraped empty. âDude, come on, you didnât leave any for me?â
âWhat? Nooo,â he says in mock protest, his voice wavering in laughter. âI already ate it.â
Amethysts reaches forward and gives him a solid noogie, ruffling his hair until its ends are all mussed. Even though his head still hurts he canât help but giggle, playfully batting her arms away. Hah, typical quartz sibling affection. Gotta love it.
âNah, Iâm just goofinâ!â she grins. âYouâve lost enough food today on the forest floor, so I wouldnât be stealinâ any even if I could.â
âThank you for that reminder,â he comments with an eye roll, lips pursed as he tries not to muse too hard about the uncomfortable burning sensation associated with that abhorrent experience, least he vomit all over again.
Meanwhile, Amethystâs high spirits finally hit their crest and begin to break like the distant din of white water waves offshore as she nervously tussles with the crystal octahedron clasped in her palm.
âBut, ah... ignoring all that, Blue D said she wanted to talk to you?â
She presses the diamond line into his possession with fettered urgency, the posture of her hands vocalizing an unspoken, underlying message of âoh stars, Iâm going insane babysitting these ancient Gem monarchs, please take this from me NOW.â Or at least, thatâs what he gleans from it. To be fair, his months of near-constant interaction with them may make him a little biased on the subject.
âProbably best not to keep her waiting. We can catch up later,â she says, giving his fingers a quick squeeze before pulling away.
And with that she hurtles down the stairs into the main living area, ditching him within this empty room with the equivalent of an intergalactic phone that dials direct to who he can only describe as his honorary Gem grandparents. Sure, so maybe most Gems donât have âchildrenâ in the same manner humans do, and maybe the Diamonds themselves have no clear understanding of the classification of human familial relationships, (despite their somewhat touching attempts at learning a few details about Earth culture for his sake), but the quasi-parental role they played in his motherâs life is undeniable from his perspective. So is their âout-of-touchâ nature, a common stereotype he sees played up for drama with fictional grandparents on TV shows all the time. Heâs not sure how he feels yet that this stereotype rings so true with his own.
Regardless, if Blue wants to talk, then thereâs no time like the present. As much as he dreads it, this conversation is bound to happen eventually, of courseâ and after all their concern, the diamonds more than deserve an update on his well-being. Steven swallows hard, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the crystal as he summons the courage to dial, desperately attempting to not let the sour notes of their last interaction tint the underlying sentiment of this one before it can even begin.
Eventually, he sucks in a deep breath and activates the communicator. The octahedron glows a soft blue, and after a few secondsâ time during which the signal is crossing to the far edge of the galaxy, projects a view screen above its upper point.
The image is fuzzy at first, but sharpens fast once Blue connects from her end. She immediately smiles as she looks upon him, elated emotion running so deep within her that for once, it even manages to reach her eyes.
âSteven! Iâm so glad to see that youâre okay,â she begins in full earnesty, clasping her hands together in front of her gem.
He doesnât respond at first, finding himself too distracted by the scenery, and by the radical juxtaposition of Blueâs current demeanor to her behavior last night. Given the glimpse of Whiteâs empty throne behind her shoulder, heâs pretty sure sheâs sitting alone in the ballroom, the sight of which canât help but stir up unwanted memories of the brief argument they had right before he rushed off to visit home, b-because... oh stars, he was right there, standing right in her presence when she reflexively forced her tears on him.
She wanted to throw him a massive planet-wide ball honoring his sixteenth birthday, wanted to organize a whole coalition of Gems to set up the venues, the entertainment, the food, everythingâ and when he finally managed to squeeze a word in edgewise between all her unfettered excitement to inform her that he wished to spend his birthday celebrating with his family on Earth instead, she was inconsolable. Crying. Raising her voice. Blaming him of running away from her just like Pink did all those years ago. In the heat of the moment he believed he was simply standing up for himself and his preferences, but fast forward to the present and he canât help but question the etiquette of his own response more and more as the cruel minutes tick onward. Did he do the right thing, or did he only cause her undue emotional harm? Will Blue Diamond accept his stance moving forward, or will she press the topic again? (After all, he knows her desire to tether him to Homeworld for his birthday is merely a symptom of her greater longing for him to live in the palace with them permanently.) And if she does, is he even allowed to express his opinions when heâs outright walking a tightrope every day heâs in the public eye, single-handedly balancing Gemkindâs delicate political situation in both hands as he slowly but surely advances towards the light on the other side? He must be careful. One wrong move, and everything heâs been working towards for the past year could topple, could cause a disastrous vacuum.
No matter the personal cost, isnât it his duty as savior of the galaxy to ensure that doesnât happen?
Gems are depending on him.
And as much as he wants to be selfish and dig his heels into the ground to ensure his own comfort for once in his life, heâs not sure thatâs even an option anymore.
Steven grips onto the edge of his bedspread with his free hand, clamping his fingers in tight, reveling in the sensation of skin shifting against downy fabric. Itâs just enough to tether him back to the present. To ensure he doesnât lose himself in the riptides of bitter memory. But by the time his scattered awareness clues in on the fact that heâs probably remained silent for an overly awkward period of time, itâs much too late, and in due consequence, he mentally returns to the scene to find that Blue has kept on talking with or without his conscious attention.
Hah. Serves him right, honestly.
ââwas just explaining the details of the disastrous mission you embarked on today,â she says, making small gestures in embellishment of her soft-spoken words, âwhen your Pearl entered to announce you were awake. Iâll let the others know as soon as I can.â
He swallows, his throat hopelessly dry, as dry as the fine granules of sand scattered across the upper shore on an intensely hot summerâs day.
âI, umââ he manages, voice wavering. (And quite honestly, feeling stupid for it, in her presence. How many months has he spent perfecting his technique for confidently speaking with the diamonds, again?) He adjusts his hold on the octahedral crystal as he vies to regain some sense of inner balance for the rest of this conversation. âSo Yellow and White know too, then?â
Blue leans upon one of the armrests of her throne, releasing a weary sigh. Itâs only then that he begins to take note of the residual anxiety blanketed across her formâ the almost bruise-like shadows under her eyes appearing deeper than usual, her normally flawless hair now frizzy and unkemptâ and if heâs honest, he struggles to understand how he truly feels, knowing that the news of his injury could affect her in such a soul-striking manner. (He often wonders if itâs fair of him, interacting with them in such a detached business-like fashion when, despite their intermittent shortcomings and confusions, theyâve offered him nothing but love and adoration in return since the beginning of era 3.)
âOh, they were the first to know. Yellow answered the initial call, and White, she was hosting a court session with some of the fusion Gems just next door. Iââ She presses the pad of her thumb to the center facet of her gemstone, pausing in her words a moment to take a sharp inhale. âI only learnt about what nearly happened to you a fragment of a rotation ago, upon my return to the palace.â Â
His brows furrow, suddenly realizing the fact that, beyond Blue, the throne room she sits in sounds desolate. Void of all Gems. âWhere is everyone, anyways?â
âDistracting themselves, mostly. Last I heard, theyâre busy trying to locate any of Pinkâs essences that might still remain within our stores, just in case something like this should happen again. Of course I dread the very thought, but...â
Her voice wavers with just the hint of a sob, as she momentarily breaks from her explanation to regain her composure.
(Steven is ashamed to admit that he fails to mask the instinctual tightening of his shoulders as he sees fresh tears brim upon the digitized representation of her visage, even though logically he knows thereâs no chance her influence could cross all these light years to weigh down on him here. Not on Earth. Not this far away.)
â...I couldnât bear to lose another,â she manages, andâ after dabbing those teardrops away with her curled fingersâ glances back up to meet his gaze with those boundless, melancholy eyes. âYou understand, donât you?â
âYeah,â he says softly, chest growing tighter at the untimely reminder of his momâs passing, an inseparable facet of his life history he still hasnât managed to process yet. Perhaps subconscious in nature, his free hand creeps its way under his shirt to rest protectively over his gem. âNo one deserves to go through that pain again.â
âYâknow, thatâs why I really do wish youâd consider our offer to permanently live with us on Homeworld, in the safety of the palace,â she mentions then, clasping her hands together as if this were a dawning, glorious new idea Stevenâs never heard before. âAfter all, Iâm sure none of this wouldâve happened under the protection of the guard.â
âUh, I donât thiââ
âCan you imagine it, all four diamonds finally reunited under the same stars?â Blue continues, a wide smile passing gracefully across her lips as she waxes on about this indulgent dream of hers. âWe could grow you an orchard, so you have as much food as you need, and your pebbles could make you whatever clothes or luxuries you desire. And of course, thereâs still the matter of your annual birth celebration to attend to...â
Steven canât help it. He canât manage to stop himself, no matter how pathetic he knows his reaction is.
In the light of this topicâs re-emergence, he zones out again. He slips directly into the welcoming embrace of inattention and subconscious thought. His headâs pounding, the pulsing discomfort birthing a brand new species of ache right behind his eyes. Itâs miserable, but no more miserable than the idea of the future Blue Diamond has been continuously pushing for the last few months. No more miserable than the idea of being trapped on a planet with individuals who â no matter how hard they try and change their habits for his sake in the presentâ have all deeply hurt him at various stages of his life. And sure, he knows this is a twisted, selfish sentiment for him to harbor, because of how Pink abandoned them in the past, because of how all three of them have worked so tirelessly these past months to reorganize their entire way of life: to actually see him as his own person instead of a shadow of his mom, to healthily process their own emotions instead of tearing others down, to openly invite fusions and off-colors into the light of society. Theyâve genuinely changed for the better. He should be overjoyed about that, shouldnât he? He should be happy for them.
And yet joy is the last thing he feels when faced with the genuine possibility that he might not be strong enough in his own convictions to stand up to Blueâs desires, that he might one day find himself trapped long-term on a planet thatâ albeit picturesque in its own unique wayâ he doesnât call home, his feet rooted to the dead soil by thorny vines born of his own timidness.
Somehow, in the face of all his fears, he swears heâs transforming into a coward.
He didnât used to be. The Steven Universe of Era 2 wouldnât dare stand down from making his opinions heard, would fight for what he believes in until star-shine glistens overhead and all denizens of the galaxy could experience true freedom.
So what the hell is his hang up now? He knows exactly how he wants to respond, so why canât he simply summon the courage to do it? Why canât this be as intuitive as summoning his shield, or a bubble?
Why does he have to feel so... so twisted up inside about this?
Steven clenches his teeth then, a sudden spike of residual pain arcing up his spine. Yikes, okay. That doesnât feel great. Maybe heâs been sitting up for too long, and needs to lay down and rest again.
Or else, maybe after heâs finally done discussing matters with Blue he could...
Wait a minute.
The fingers of his free hand begin to knead the blanket in his lap with a new wave of gusto as he comes to an abrupt revelation about his present condition that could change literally everything.
Stars, thatâs perfect. Thatâs not even a lie! Why on Earth didnât he think of this before?
He was severely injured this morning. The gemstone at his core outright couldâve shattered, without treatment. Surely any fellow Gem would understand if he says he needs some extra time to fully recover? Perhaps even... the rest of the week? Including his birthday? And on top of that, this extra time would allow him all the privacy he needs to figure out how to confidently and politely decline Blueâs recurring request to live on Homeworld. Heâd literally be hitting two targets with one shield!
He nibbles at the inside of his bottom lip as he considers how best to phrase this.
âHey, Blue?â he calls, immediately garnering her full gaze. âUmââ
Although briefly squirming like an insecure child under those intense azure irises, he stamps down that devilishly tempting urge to go silent and recede into the shadows of this conversation again, wholly compliant to whatever she says. No, he has to speak his mind. No positive change in this relationship will ever occur unless he resolves to stand up for himself, no matter how many reminders it takes. His muscles grow tense as his mouth bobs open once again.
âAbout the whole birthday celebration thing, I, uh...â
His tongue grows excruciatingly dry in his anxiety, and heâs suddenly struck with the reminder that he never drank the water Pearl left on his dinner tray. Pity, that. He swallows, throat tight and scratchy, and continues.
âI think itâs very kind of you to offer hosting a ball for me on Homeworld, but as of right now, I... Iâm very, very sore, and need to stay at my home for a few days to recover from my injury, okay? I promise Iâll visit in person as soon as Iâm physically able to,â he rapidly blurts, recognizing a glint of hurt coat Blueâs otherwise attentive expression, âjust... after my birthday.â
The diamond lets her weary eyes flutter shut as she takes a moment to soak in everything he just said. Honestly, he canât think to guess whatâs running through her mind right now, and heâs not sure he wants to. Eventually however, she offers an extended sigh, its watercolor edges brushed with an air of melancholy.
âI suppose youâre right,â she replies, offering him a watery smile. âWe wouldnât want to upset your fragile organic system so soon after such an ordeal, now would we? Very well, then. Iâll leave you to rest.â
âThank you,â he says, his shoulders finally loosening up from their overwrought state.
âWe can do something to celebrate when youâre back on Homeworld, just the four of us. In fact, Iâve been talking with White, and we have the perfect idea for a gift!â
Steven gives a small nervous laugh, fiddling with the back of his shirt collar. âHahah, yeah? Well, I guess Iâll look forward to it. Anyways, uh... thanks for checking in. Bye.â
His heart still pounding despite the overwhelming sense of resolution, his thumb presses the bottom point of the octahedron inwards, ending the call. He gently sets aside the communicator on his nightstand, next to his empty soup bowl. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, he flops backwards on his bed with his arms stretched wide and gives a sharp, celebratory cackle of relief. He... he finally did it! He spoke his mind. He stood up to Blueâs headstrong desires, successfully reasserted his intentions. Set clear boundaries, just like Amethyst said he should. And as his reward, maybe now he can celebrate his birthday at home without guilt hanging like a weighty anvil over his head. Just maybe. He smiles, allowing his sore body to sink right into the plush cocoon of his mattress.
For the first time today, things are finally on the up-and-up.
And so that pattern continues through the rest of the evening. Itâs not long after his call with Blue that his dad returns from the store, not even bothering to put the frozen and refrigerated foods in their proper temperature controlled places before bounding upstairs to check on him upon the call of his name. No amount of detailed description could ever hope to intimately capture the full spectrum of sheer elation and love Dad unloads on him in the precious minutes that follow, but by the end of it his fatherâs sobbing in his arms, exhausted tears staining the collar of his pajama shirt as they clutch to each other with iron clad grips. At this point, the only way Steven can hope to respond is to act as nothing more but a solid rock, if only to reassure him that heâs alive, heâs well, heâs here.
The two of them spend a good chunk of the remaining evening together, watching reruns of Under the Knife at the foot of his bed while nibbling on some cheddar popcorn. Itâs rejuvenating, honestly. Stars, is it rejuvenating. Somehow it seems like an eternity since theyâve been able to just... live life together, even in the simplest of ways. Theyâll share a dinner here and there when he visits home, sureâ a video call from another planet every week or so, yesâ but thereâs something so fundamentally irreplaceable about physically leaning against your loved ones and spending a tangible amount of time with them that heâs sorely missed over his busy months as Era 3âs ambassador. Itâs special. Something to cherish. And something he dearly hopes to engage in with his family and friends a lot more as his immediate duties with the Diamonds wind to a close.
At some point in the middle of their fourth episode, Steven finally finds his phone. It was in his jacket pocket, of courseâ the new pink wool one he left slung over his desk chair before leaving on the corrupted Gem recovery mission this morning. With that retrieved, he makes sure to text a quick update to all the friends he missed seeing today. Even though logic tells him getting cracked wasnât entirely his fault, itâs hard to dodge the temptation of guilt. Thankfully though, with the rest of the week now scrubbed entirely free of Homeworld stuff, perhaps he can reschedule a few of these gatherings. Â
The rest of his night is uneventful.
The Gems pop in and out to check on him, otherwise attending to their own obligations. Over the comforting backdrop of the television, Dad gushes about the concert heâs organized in town next week for Sadie Killer and the Suspects. Says heâs hopeful itâll be a sellout. In return, he provides lush descriptions of some of the distant former colonies (now free planets) heâs gotten to visit as part of his political service. Thereâs some pretty stunning ones, he has to admit. The sightseeing he gets to engage in is a small but shining perk of his current responsibilities.
At ten, the TV is turned off. They hug and part ways, his dad quietly shuffling to the bathroom downstairs to brush his teeth and throw on a sleep shirt.
His headache is almost gone by now, having reduced to nothing more but a faint aura.
Heâs standing outside on the porch enjoying some fresh, salty air before bed when Amethyst quietly slides into place alongside him, seeking his affection. She wraps her arms tight around his torso, burying her face against his shoulder. He reciprocates in kind. She doesnât cry like Dad did, however. She doesnât even speak. Rather, her purposeful silence ripples through his soul more than any concrete word or phrase ever could. Innately, he knows what sheâs asking.
âIâm okay now,â he murmurs softly, blinking away his own budding tears while his expression is still hidden from her. âYou healed me, Iâm okay.â
âYouâre a big liar, yâknow that?â she says, voice muffled.
He rolls his eyes, pulling away from her embrace. âFine, fine. Iâm still a little sore. âYa happy?â
Amethyst frowns, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she shifts her stance to lounge against the railing. âIâd be happier if none of that ever happened in the first place.â
Her frank statement hangs amidst the wind like a tattered flag upon an abandoned battlefield. Steven swallows, the resulting lump settling uneven in his throat.
(For a second he almost feels sick again, a surge of lingering discomfort churning at his core.)
âYeah...â he sighs, staring off into the dim ocean horizon and forcing himself to acknowledge her unfortunate experience with this type of injury. âYeah. Iâm sorry if that brought back any bad memories for you.â
She scoffs. âChâyeah, so... Iâm not gonna say it didnât suck, but. Itâs over now, yâknow? Iâll deal. You donât have to apologize for it, or anything.â
Long pause. His quartz sibling threads her fingers together as she leans against the chipping wood, silently tussling with herself under the ebbing solidarity of the ocean tides. A significant stretch of time passes between them before she finally takes it upon herself to speak again.
ââSânot like it was your fault, anyways.â
His chest tightens upon recognition of that familiar self-blame inherent in her tone. If he were a stronger, better person, he might take it upon himself to chip away at the walls of that insecurity with love and reassurance, to be the kind, encouraging Steven he used to be. But heâs tired, and heâs lived long enough to acknowledge by now that perfectly formed words canât fix everything. Not immediately, at least. People are complicated. Heâs complicated. And sometimes the best one can manage is to simply act as a supportive companion to another.
Starlight glittering overhead, and the cool coastal breeze tussling at their hair, he joins Amethyst at the balcony and rests his cheek on her shoulder just like he used to do when he was little. Together, enveloped in a tension-filled silence, they watch the waves together. Watch the gulls pick at old food scraps further up shore, closer to the edge of the cliffs.
âHey, what kind of gem was it, by the way?â he asks eventually. âYou never said.â
âUghhh,â she groans, dropping her head against the wood with a soft clunk. âA dang sapphire. Literally no wonder why she was so slippery!â
Steven canât help the bubble of oddly placed glee that rises within him upon her answer. He cracks a dopey grin, shaking his head at himself. A snicker passes his lips.
A sapphire. Of course it was a sapphire. Gosh, isnât that sweet, sweet vindication.
Her brow creases in confusion. âWhat?â
Perhaps finally cracking under months of accumulated stress, he breaks into peels of low laughter.
âWhat is it? Dude, yaâ gotta tell meeee!â she cries, playfully rustling at his arm as he doubles over against the railing, clutching his sides as he wrests to catch his breath and respond.
âNo, itâs- itâs not even funny,â he says, pushing past the final surge and gaining some sense of composure again. âI just... my guess was spot-on. Iâve never seen a corrupted sapphire, before that.â His demeanor falls sober in a snap, wholly humbled by the abrupt reminder of the vital task waiting in his future, a task thatâ alongside the Diamondsâ bottled essencesâ only he can hope to see through. âI hope sheâll be okay, once sheâs healed. Iâm not even gonna mention what happened, honestly.â
Amethyst visibly pales at his allusion to the incident this morning. To âwhat happened.â Hah. As if cushioning the truth in vague, non-specific language could at all erase the stark reality of what he went through. Sometimes he really is daft.
âSteven, Iââ she swallows hard, nibbling at her knuckles for a moment as she contemplates the greater details of whatever seems to be assailing her mind. âYou donât have to answer this if you donât want to, okay? But... I have to at least ask. Do you, like... remember anything?â
He frowns, avoiding her direct gaze as he moves to lean against the balcony, overlooking the blustery shoreline.
âWhat, you mean about... everything after the fight? And at the, ah... at the fountain, yeah?â
Amethyst offers a hesitant nod, her eyes glossed with marked worry. Peering at the pinprick constellations above as he reflects on this question, Steven experimentally nudges scattered fragments of memory closer together, the seconds and minutes of that experience progressively locking into place untilâ
The world bends and splinters within his sight, his dad and Amethystâs tear-stricken faces phasing into each other as they sink ever further into the thickets of their fearful despair. Heâs prone in their hold, hard light pulsing rampant through his veins, unregulated, unrestrained, stretching out from his broken gemstone like clawing, yearning fingers... his muscles taut at one moment and pliable at the next, wholly unable to exert control over his body as his every limb jitters and jerks, unable to staunch his hoarse sobs as he soaks in the cold, terrifying static of it all, and now his words are jumbled and backwards, and deep within he knows this with an intense clarity but he canât help it, he canât fix it, he can barely even think, he caâ
Steven inhales evenly, purposefully not allowing his expression to flash even a minuscule micro-expression of residual fear. After all, itâs Era 3. Everyoneâs supposed to find happiness and fulfillment now, which canât happen when people are stuck dwelling on their shadowed past. Thus, Amethyst doesnât need to be burdened with the knowledge of what he does or doesnât know. Thatâs his problem to shoulder, his boulder to carry.
And he refuses to force anyone else to carry the weight of his past for him. He refuses to become like Blue, still stuck in a tempestuous pattern of pushing her emotions on everyone around her and making them feel like crap.
Perhaps itâs foolish, but he sorely wants to believe heâs better than her.
âNope,â he says, feigning an unparalleled air of confidence as he shakes his head to confirm the negative. âCanât remember a thing.â
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I don't know if this would work better as a request or concept but requests are open so here we go. Can you do a thing about Bakugou's darling escaping and before he can get them back they get seriously hurt (in a car accident or villain run in or something) and end up in the hospital?
Heâs such a fragile boy⌠someone get him a comfort dog and a cozy blanket. Heâs earned it.
TW: Mentions of Violence, Injuries, and Implied (Re)Kidnapping.
A week. You were gone for a week.
Thatâs how long it took for something bad to happen.
By the time he arrived at your hospital room, Katsuki was desperate to see you. Itâd been seven days since heâd slept with you, seven days since heâd ate with you, seven days since heâd been with you, and seeing your face, bruised and battered and beautiful, was enough to make his heart skip a beat. Hastily, he locked the door, barely shoving back the tears forming in his eyes as he moved towards your bedside, forcing himself into the nearest uncomfortable, plastic chair. He wanted to hug you, to kiss you, to make it clear how grateful he was that you were alive, butâŚ
He wouldnât be taking those kinds of risks, anymore.
Youâd made it clear that he would have to be the responsible one, in your relationship.
Hesitantly, though, he took your hand, rubbing circles into your palm as you began to stir, your eyes only opening for a moment before they closed again. Unconsciously, you let out something between a sigh and a grunt, trying to turn onto your side before realizing the cast around your right arm would make that impossible. He took a moment to scan you over, evaluating the many, many bandages covering your form, letting out a thankful sigh when he realized you hadnât been hooked up to an I.V. Broken bones, cuts and scrapes. No internal damage.
Small victories would have to be enough to soothe him, for now.
âHey, angel-face, itâs me.â If you recognized his voice, you didnât seem alarmed, only blinking in no particular direction. âHowâre you feeling? You look like shit.â
Again, you let out one of those pathetic, strangled groans, this one softer than the last. Katsuki didnât think twice, standing to better lean over you, cupping your cheek so gingerly, his fingertips barely touched your skin. âIt hurts,â You mumbled, leaning into his gesture. That was certainly a change, albeit a welcomed one. Katsuki wasnât used to his affection being reciprocated. âThe doctor gave me something⌠I donât think itâs helping, though. My body still feels⌠bad.â
He couldnât help but laugh, chuckling as his thumb rubbed over a bruise on your cheekbone. âOf course it does, you took a big hit⌠a few of them, actually.â He paused, watching while you tried to push yourself away from the bed, only to give up when your good arm threatened to give out from under you. Your legs hadnât escaped the attack, either, one wrapped from the ankle down and the other on a splint, a nasty burn stretching from your lower thigh to somewhere under your hospital gown. Katsuki cursed himself for not stopping to get your medical information, how could he have been so thoughtless? It took more self-control than it shouldâve to keep from apologizing, but he managed to choke down the words, in the end.Â
You didnât need to think he was weak, too.
âYeah... you got pretty banged up, didnât you?â He continued, asking despite already knowing the answer. âDonât worry, we got the guys who did it. Iâll rip them apart myself, if I have to.â
You frowned, always the kind-hearted type. But, as soon as youâd opened your mouth, Katsuki cut in. âDo you see why I have to be so careful, now?â A look of confusion crossed your face, quickly followed by anger, when you realized he was trying to have this conversation again. But, you didnât interrupt, this time. That was all Katsuki could ask for, really. âThis city is a big, bad, scary place, you should know that better than anyone. Just look, you were away from me for a week, and the world chewed you up and spit you out. Youâre a mess, (Y/n), whether or not youâll ârecoverâ.â
You were glaring, now, medication dampening your anger into a dull frustration. âIt couldâve happened to anyone-â
âThen why did it have to happen to you?â
The room fell silent, the static of your monitors and machines becoming deafening to Katsuki, so annoying and frustrating and loud, even if he hadnât noticed it until now. He could see that you were thinking, deliberating and trying to comprehend something beyond your drug-induced haze, but that delay disappeared when he gritted his teeth, accidentally brushing against one of the more prominant cuts on your jaw.Â
He knew you well enough to know when you were in pain, when you regretted something, when you wanted to give in but⌠couldnât let yourself, for whatever reason. And yet, he was the one to shatter the tense quiet, letting himself kiss your forehead, lips lingering on your skin while he spoke. âAre you ready to go home? I can get you released early, itâs one of the perks of having power to abuse.â
You didnât answer, your breathing growing labored, eyes closing with another distressed murmur. It wasnât an answer, but he could work with whatever you gave him.
The things you wanted were secondary, right now.
He was more concerned with what you needed.
#yandere#yandere love#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere prompt#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere imagines#yandere scenerio#boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia imagines#my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia imagines#my hero academia imagines#yandere my hero academia#bnha imagines#yandere my hero academia imagines#yandere bnha imagines#yandere bnha#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#yandere bakugo x reader#yandere bakugo#yandere bakugou#katsuki x reader#yandere katsuki#yandere katsuki x reader#possessive#obsessive
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Sethâs Failure
- Iâll end up tweaking this, but Iâm too drained -
TW: Mentions of birth, medical procedures, still birth, alcohol use, deathÂ
The Trimble family apartment was usually flooded with natural light - but now, with the heavy clouds ripe with rain bearing down against the big windows, there was no place to escape to in an attempt to put his misery behind him.Â
It had rained everyday that week, and with each passing day that the dark clouds lingered - Sethâs confidence in himself and his professional abilities waned more & more.Â
What had happened to the man who could circumvent Godâs will at all costs ??Â
Sethâs fingerâs slowly danced across the ivories, tapping out a sorrowful melody as they went - something heâd heard in a movie as a child. Actually - there was a more upbeat part, but he couldnât be bothered to remember it.Â
Like his favored right hand, you too tasted pride & took the fall from grace. A modern day Lucifer, though you - I suppose - are a trifle more pitiful.Â
His thoughts were hazy, with a dream-like quality. He couldnât remember if heâd been having the same few everyday, or if they changed, or even if he had taken time to think about anything at all.Â
It didnât matter.
Not now. There was very little to be happy about.Â
His usual serious posture while playing left something to be desired as he slouched on the bench: shoulders tense, wrists limp, fingers flat with no signature arch. This resulted in the occasional slip up or accidental key smash - but he didnât notice. His bangs were in his face anyway, obscuring his vision.
Heâd given up trying to drink from the nearly empty bourbon glass on the side table, though he occasionally lit up a cigarette and stared at the keys before him through a screen of smoke & tears. The tears of course, came and went - though his eyes were red and raw from the intensity and frequency in which it had occurred.Â
Heâd failed in the most important way imaginable & 2 lives had been lost a week ago because of him:Â
The mother, young & scared, with no support system from what he could tell, during her pregnancy. Her labor had been intense after sheâd been induced, the fatal call heâd made - ( A new wash of grief hitting him so intensely he pounded the keys with his fists in his anger as he let it sink in ! ) - and sheâd hemorrhaged to death, her last pleas for he and the support staff to save her baby.Â
( He let out a rattling sigh to push the sobs back down, taking deep breaths before he had the strength to down the remains of the bourbon in his glass, placed it back on the table and continued his ( now ) half remembered composition. He shifts into Moonlight Sonata effortlessly like heâd done a million times before. )Â
It was a breech birth & by the time they managed to get to the baby at all - - - it was too late. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby girlâs neck three times. Sheâd suffocated quicker than they imagined.Â
Heâd composed himself - done all the proper steps: removed the infant, closed the mother back up from the impromptu C-section, alerted the young father ( that somehow seemed relieved of his burdens ), gone to clean himself up, finished the paperwork shakily, oh - and cursed God the whole time in his mind.Â
Heâd done himself the disservice of paying his respects in the hospitalâs morgue. Now, under the harsh blue fluorescents - he could see just how tired she had been until the last. Heâd taken her pale & cold hand in his and apologized profusely.Â
For everything. Â
He tried to look at the infant, but instead rushed to throw up in the sink. He had 2 girls on the way himself, and this ... broke him. He felt like he died with this poor girl:
What was her name ??Â
Kelly Dawn.Â
He hadnât thought to ever ask if sheâd chosen a name for her little girl, a shame. New agony washed through him and he wretched again --- though nothing came up. He hadnât realized he was crying until his father - in - law ( & mentor ) helped him off the floor. The old man had been gentle with him, had assured him that these things happened, but it did not lessen the blow to Sethâs heart.
â ... Itâs my fault & whatâs worse, was ... I kept - I kept seeing Nora & the g-g-irls. â
He was sniffling incoherently like a child & wasnât sure he made sense anymore. Heâd been given 2 weeks paid leave to sort himself out, Nora had gone to stay with her father. He was alone & he felt it.Â
Well, heâd have to pull himself out of the void some day in the near future. For now, he was willing to ride his sorrow out for another rainy day.Â
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