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sadiecoocoo · 2 months

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Anyone wanna hear a funny story that totally didn’t traumatize me? (I promise it’s nothing actually traumatizing… tw for snakes ig?)

So last June I was home alone, my parents were working and my sister was on her senior trip with some friends. So, while I was home alone, I was tasked with taking care of my pets, one black lab (Luna) and a mainecoon (Sabine). When I went to feed my dog, I let her out afterwards. She didn’t really want to go out, which is normal she’s the kind of dog that doesn’t like going outside without someone with her. She was a stray, likely because she’s not a “real” lab, tho we don’t know what other breed she’s mixed with, so of course she has a bit of anxiety with being alone. I just brushed it off as her not really wanting to go outside at the moment, and I wasn’t really in the mood to walk her out there since I had let her out not too long before. When I went back onto the main floor (her food bowl is in the basement since that’s my Dad’s “man cave” and he takes care of her the most), she got really excited and started jumping up and down and sort of going to the door to the backyard. I was a little annoyed since I jsut let her out, but maybe she just randomly got the urge to be outside for a bit. So I went to the door and let her outside. my cat, Sabine, was in the kitchen a few feet behind me.

When I let Luna out, she ended up kicking something in. At first I thought it was a stick, but when I closed the back door I noticed it was moving, writhing. Before I could process what it was, my fight or flight response kicked in and I ran away from it to my room upstairs. Now, the layout of my house is a little weird… it sort of goes into a circle on the first and basement level floors. So the kitchen ultimately connects to the dining room and living room, so it didn’t matter which way I went I would be able to get to the upstairs either way. As stated before, Sabine was in the kitchen, which was luckily the direction I went to get to the upstairs. I noticed that she was intently looking towards the door, or more accurately the moving creature. Without thinking, as I was running, somehow not tripping over myself (good to know that my clumsiness will spare me in times of need), I leaned down and scooped my cat up without stopping. The next bits were kind of a haze, the blood was pumping too loudly in my ears for me to really remember it and I was moving too fast for me to process where exactly I was going, I just knew I needed to get to my room and slam my door shut. So that’s what I did.

I dropped my cat as soon as I shut the door, then promptly collapsed onto my bed in tears, breathing heavily from fear and adrenaline. When I realized what had happened, I immediately texted my dad, who was thankfully on his way home since he only worked until around 4:00 on most days. I told him, “there’s a snake in the house,” followed by a basic description of what all had happened. He said he was on the way and to keep an eye on it. I thought with terror that that meant I needed to leave the sanctity of my room and watch as it slithered around my house, possibly to where I wouldn’t be able to see it without going downstairs. I sat there for several minutes crying, shaking, and laughing in hysterics as my cat pushed on the door trying to get out of my room. Sabine is an indoor cat, she’s never been outside unless she was in a carrier, so I didn’t fully trust her survival instincts. I had grabbed her and put her on my bed before I left the room, sniffling and trying not to fall from my weak knees.

The upstairs of the house is a lot smaller than the main floor, since the living room goes all the way up to the roof. My room is to the right of the top of the stairs, and is directly above the dining room. The rest of the upstairs is above the kitchen and garage. The back door where the snake got in was in the living room, bordering the kitchen, so I could see it from the top of the steps. If I went to the midway point of the steps, where the wide step is due to the turn, I could see into a bit of the kitchen. I didn’t dare leave my perch at the top. Still shaking, I hesitantly looked at the rug in front of the back door. I took a sharp inhale and cringed as I could no longer see the snake. I ran back into my room before surveying the rest of the house, there was no way in hell is actually go looking for it, not with all the furniture it could hide under. That was another thing that struck sheer terror through my bones. In the living room, dangerously close to the back door in this situation, was a very large couch. A VERY large couch. One that if, oh I don’t know, a snake crawled under, you wouldn’t really be able to get it out.

I went back to my bed, a new fear realized, and told my dad what happened. He asked what kind it was, I told him it was fairly small and light blue. Then there came the waiting game. If you couldn’t tell by now, I have a big fear, maybe even a phobia, of snakes. Really for all reptiles and amphibians, they’ve just always rubbed me the wrong way, what with there slimy skin and the way they just wait without moving for something to come to them. I have nothing against them or anyone who owns a pet reptile/amphibian, I know they’re needed in the environment, but keep those slimy fuckers away from me unless me to have a full blown panic attack. Which you might have guessed was what I was experiencing during said waiting game. The only thing keeping me from passing was from the lifeline that my friends gave me over text. Didn’t stop me from crying and shaking though. I was laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I’ve been an impatient person, but having to wait in this, was so much worse than an update for a video game or a long line at a restaurant. I stared at the crack under my door the entire time, waiting for a slithering creature to crawl under.

Finally, thirty-two minutes after I first texted my dad, though it felt like an hour, he made it home. The sound of a garage door never sounded so relieving. My fear spiked again as it took a few moments for the door to open, but it finally did and I heard my dad’s footsteps. I sent him a quick text after a few more moments asking if he’d found it yet, I was met with radio silence. It didn’t take long for me to surmise that he had in fact found it, for a loind banging was repeatedly heard. I jumped and made a pathetic sound as I felt tears well up in my eyes again. My car ran under my bed, and I wished she had jumped on top so I could clutch her like a teddy bear.

A few seconds later, the noise stopped, followed by the sound of the back door opening, and the scraping of a shovel on a wooden floor. My dad then called up to me that the snake was dead. I slowly conjured up enough courage to leave my room, and sat perched at the top of the stairs again. I still didn’t want to go downstairs, or anywhere near the back door. But my dad was laughing, joking about how the snake was not actually small like I had said. I think I started crying again and finally went down and hugged him. The we laughed about the fact that I made sure to grab the cat before running up to my room, I guess I’d be the person that’d go back into a burning building for their pet.

Yeah, so that happened a bit over half a year ago. Since then I e made sure to check the blinds and keep a little distance before opening the door. I’ve also been thinking, how come Luna didn’t want to go outside in the basement, where it was safe, but instead went outside upstairs??? Does she want me to die??? I also could never tell if she had kicked the snake inside or if it had jumped inside, but my dad said that the snake seemed a little hurt so she probably kicked it in by accident (or on purpose… the investigation didn’t prove profitable)

Anyway, if anyone has any questions about this whole ordeal, lmk! I leave you all with the texts I sent my dad,

There was another picture of my bad holding up the murder weapon with a big shit eating grin but I don’t have it anymore, I’ll have to ask my dad for it later

#story time #funny haha #snake #snek

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sunshine-girl-thoughts · 1 year

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It may sound ridiculous.

But some time ago, I would say years already, maybe even 4 years ago, I got into all that manifestation thing, you know "positive affirmations create a new reality" and all those things.

I started with the hope I could change my body, my face specifically, then my life, maybe somehow magically bringing to me money or joy just writing that on a piece of paper.

And to be clear, I still believe in those things, I do believe that positive thoughts and beliefs are something that should occur into our daily lives and I believe they really have a good impact.

It's just that maybe it is a little less magical then I would have expected, a little less sudden, and maybe a little more subtle; and maybe I first need to let go of all this burden inside my head before I can finally let that magic sink in.

I don't remember myself as I was physically 4 years ago, so I can't really measure a change in myself that isn't just on a mental level.

I remember being so sad, I felt sad all the time, I know I was still myself, people told me I laughed too much all the time, but I was also negative all the time, telling myself how ugly I was, not accepting compliments, and even though my grades were really good I felt stupid, and all those things I thought, I spoke out loud.

And that is one of the worst things I could have done probably.

Because then I got into all that manifestation stuff, and I did it sooo wrong, like really, not that it is something you can do wrong to be fair, but I did it for the wrong purpose.

Just imagine this 13 y.o. girl constantly forcing herself to think: "I have a pretty nose" "I have plump lips" / big boobs, a better figure, a slimmer face, slimmer body....

And so on. Over and over and over again.

Not even realising what it was doing to me.

Slowly things changed, I started losing my appetite in the first place, luckily my mom isn't one you could escape at dinner (or any other meal ahah), I had to eat always at least something and I think that really saved my life.

In fact I never realised it till now that I am writing this (so maybe all that writing in a journal thing is helpful after all).

So I was becoming slimmer but not so fast, not so much more than I was already, I have always been pretty normal to be onest, always the smol child, the little girl, smaller then the others in my class, but for some reason my brain was convinced of the opposite, maybe it was the changes my body was going through, I remember that was the year when I saw those purple marks in my inner thighs, my very first stretch marks, and on my butt, like a lot, like totally striped like a zebra ahah, luckily I saw those when they were already healed and nice and white and not purple, otherwise I would've lost it probably.

So when I got to 14 y.o. and changed school, my anxiety started, I started noticing so many things in myself I didn't like, even if I was affirming in my head how pretty I was my mind didn't really believe me.

The hair on my arms, legs, my armpits, my belly, everything seemed out of place and no positive thought could change all the effort I was doing to get rid of it.

This all lasted for like 2 years, until last year.

Something changed and I still feel it changing inside me (and I actually believe that it was all that affirming in positive and all that), I am becoming more aware that my body is just a normal body (thank you tik tok and thanks to all those amazing girls showing us how real women are otherwise I would be desperate probably ahah) and I have gotten back my appetite, I finally eat how I should, I feel hungry and that to a lot of people is a bad feeling, but to me it's amazing! I had stopped feeling hungry for a lot of time so finally realising that I can now be hungry again really made me happy.

And it all brings me here, I still affirm things in my head but they sound more like: "no matter the situation I am in right now, every bad feeling is just temporary", "I can do it, I must not let fear stop me from the bright future I am capable of achieving"... I look in the mirror and genuinely like my eyes or my eyebrows...one little step at a time.

But I must admit I still feel not so beautiful sometimes, and that is ok because honestly I have so many other thoughts that are clustered in my mind, anxious thoughts just for simply getting on a bus or just getting into school.

So this is why I am here, I am a veeeery analytical person (im a virgo after all) so I think I can analyse all these feelings and try to explain them to myself and maybe this journey of mine (100% without filter because I obviously know no one and no one knows me) can be of some use not only for me but for others too. 🌻

#anxitey #overthinking #journey #journal #advice #feelings #tumblog #tumblrpost

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

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hey bestie!

I am glad I am not annoying you and also pls, take all the time that you need and I am sorry that you are going through a tiring and not good period, but I shall hit you with the best vibes possible to have it pass as fast as possible and for you to relax a bit!

I am glad you enjoyed Manuel! I honestly don't have too much knowledge of his discography but he seems like a very cool dude and I'll definitely check out Danny Elfman, as he is new to me! also pls, take all the time you need with my silly little recs, but if you ever want to rant about them, I am here!

also I really like 'hero' because it is very clean + subtle. in general, I feel like the most commercial fragrances for men low key makes me have headaches by how strong they are, instead this one was very soft and clean (and I thought it was a female fragrance, till I got told that it wasn't).

and oh gods, I had the SAME experience while discovering sexuality and in all truth I still feel uncomfortable about it, so I also think that Aemond might be feeling all level of guilt for a totally normal curiosity (also I know it is a serious matter, but I might have this funny image of him checking everywhere in his room as if his mother might barge in at any moment).

also the whole 'waiting for you at the hairdresser' isn't self-indulger because I am the SAME when getting my nails done! (like you better believe that I am an independent woman but Aemond would have to pick out my color because I am so indecisive). and yeah, I agree it's about the wanting to be there and as somebody with social anxiety, I don't know I also feel more comfortable in some situations if there is somebody with me!

also about the anon who spoke about whether Aemond would be interested into a burlesque show: oh gods I love your headcanons about them, because I did burlesque (for (1) year when we were in quarantine because then uni started again and I had to move away) and it's honestly very funny and empowering (if you aren't clumsy like me). so, my idea is that - not to be horny on main - but what about his own partner putting on a show for him?

(this is utterly self-indulgent but I feel like he might also be more comfortable in the domesticity of it all).

but if he went outside, I am imagining those light high-class clubs all polished and with the vintage feeling, and oh gods... is it hot in here or is it just me?

ok ok, i am done!

have a lovely day!

-🌗

Hello, my love! Every time I'm like, I'm gonna get better at replying and I end up sucking even more lol. So sorry it's taken me this long!! Been replying to asks like one day at a time because as if it weren't shitty enough, I got this weird ass headache that wouldn't let me live in peace and I went to the doctor and they were like, 'it's just stress' 💀💀💀💀 GIRL PLEASE, but anyway.....

Just a head's up that Danny Elfman's music is super weird, specifically talking about his Oingo Boingo days, but he's my absolute HERO AND IDOL! I could spend hours just talking about how much I love him, and if you've been following me for a while you already know (or will know) he's just, ughhhh. I think he's such a talented human. Lmao so I do recommend him but I always have to add the disclaimer that he's my goth grandpa and therefore his solo work is not everyone's cup of tea, but he's also scored tons of movies, so that can always be an easy way into his music!

Ok then I LOVE clean and subtle for him, it definitely sounds like that's exactly what he'd look for in a fragrance and I'm drooling just imagining it, bestie. I need to smell that ASAP to have a clearer idea of how Aemond would smell (is this crazy talk? doesn't matter we're far past that).

Re: guilt. Ohhhh not him checking all over his room, that is SO REAL! I used to double-check if my headphones were indeed plugged if I ever pulled up porn, even if I was alone in my room (still do when I listen to audios). And also that whole paranoia of someone walking in on you is too real. Imagine Aemond is living in his own place finally and thinking he's gonna have the freedom to jerk off whenever he wants and then getting hit by that feeling of paranoia aaaaah :'(

And same same SAME about being independent but still wanting the company. Ngl when I was living in Toronto on my own I'd get so melancholic at the end of the day because I'd do all these cool things, go to the movies or a restaurant by myself, and then on the bus ride home I'd be like >:( wanna share this with someone tho.

AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAH I LOVE THAT of his partner putting on a show just for him!! 100% can see that he'd be into it because of the intimacy and domesticity of it all. He'd love to have all the attention to himself in a place where he feels comfortable with, and he'd get super turned by watching someone he's already attracted to and loves get all dressed up and sexy for him and him only. And definitely, that was the kind of place I was envisoning in the scenario that he did go out somewhere! All fancy, with dimm lights and very lavish drinks and the whole vibe is vintage and old-school. Bestie that is unbelievable hot, I can't deal. And just the whole mental image of him getting a lapdance or a striptease from his partner? ;lskjdlkjf irma.exe stopped working.

Thank you so much for your patience with me replying, friend! and thank you for dropping by each time, your messages are always such a treat to read and I love to catch up!! Hope you have a lovely weekend! x

#🌗

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lunechante · 2 years

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So, I have live in the pretty remote countryside for 4 years now. Growing up I found it less and less possible to actually communicate with my family doctor. It got even worse with the ASD diagnosis (he refused to write a referral letter to get the diagnosis, and then was totally blank when I came back with said diagnosis). Also this GP was a 80min ride from my home.

So in January I decided to switch to the one in my village my friends were advising me. Not only is he much closer (3min walk), but he is also understanding of my condition. He helped me with the disability file to get accomodations on my workplace.

Dr P. works in a practice with 5 different doctors (or 6, I’m not sure how many interns there are - by now I’ve met 2).

He’s been my GP for 5 months and the last 4 times I needed to consult him I didn’t get to.

I have been having an autistic burnout for years now - never fully recover so I relapse easily. I can’t identify my own fatigue, and I don’t allow myself to stop even when I know I should. I feel so guilty about getting on sick leave. So I usually end up at the GP’s because I’ve been crying most of the time (including at work, often up to the classroom threshold) and I get too tired to internally fight my suicidal thoughts.

That level of exhaustion means I am even more hypersensitive than usual and I also usually get selective mutism by that point - though I fight it to talk to the doctor as I need help to make the situation stop. Which obviously exhausts me even more. I get so anxious I have to anticipate the whole appointment and conversation in my head as soon as it’s booked.

Problem is, when you need an appointment the day you call, there is no way to get Dr P. Last time I couldn’t get a slot for a whole week (he was not on vacation), so I got an appointment with someone I had never met two days later, and also an other one with Dr P. the following week.

Getting someone new means I have to deal with a sudden, unexpected change (sometimes the secretary says you’ll get a doctor, but then the intern shows up - I have nothing against her, I just need to know who I’m going to meet). That means it’s harder for me to interact. Also, as things are not going according to plan, I forget to bring up important stuff. That unexpectedness kind of freezes me, so I am not able to express my distress. I just put on my poker face smile and go along.

The reason why I need to consult is usually ASD-related anxiety/depression/burn out. It’s a topic I feel really private about and I have a hard time discussing it with a stranger. Last week, I was told I would see Dr G., then my friends told me that I wouldn’t because it’s his intern on Wednesdays. Turned out I saw the 2 of them at once. They were an hour late (unexpected change!). I had to wait a whole hour in the well sun-lit waiting room, which also had neon-lights on (I hadn’t opened my blinds for days), with 5 other people including a child who was speaking at a very normal volume but that felt like screaming to me as I had spent the previous days in the total silence that I needed. I spent the whole time focusing on not crying and only letting my leg shake instead of my whole body. With the long-built burn out and after that unbearable hour, not only did I have to talk about how bad I felt to two strangers, but also to one more time explain my diagnosis.

I am so great at masking people have no idea I even encounter difficulties. And thanks to global and family cultures, I can’t help but see most of these difficulties (or their consequences, or the consequences of burn out, I don’t really know) as shameful. I hide them well, it’s really hard for me to talk about it, and every time I need help to get better, it also means making myself feel even worse. In addition, I have once again have to over everything that is wrong, just because I can never get to see my doctor.

Yesterday I was supposed to see Dr P. Up until I stepped into his office, no one had bothered letting me know the intern would be conducting the consultation instead, and that he’d just be listening. I was feeling better than when I was her last week. I needed to ask about how hormones affect my moods and sleep, and what could be done about that. I also needed to ask about some administative aspects of my ASD diagnosis within social security. I also needed to express my need to know who I would be meeting, to avoid anxiety and/or having to deal with change of plans, and about maybe making the waiting room more accessible. I did not get to adress any of these topics, because I was dealing with not meeting the doctor I was told I would. And then having to educate her about late diagnosed adults with ASD (not that I mind, I think it’s important to make sure young doctors are educated about the topic, but it was not the time for me).

I got out of there feeling both tired and bad about myself, for not being able to express my needs. Not knowing how to communicated them. Feeling trapped in this situation I don’t know how to handle that brings me some stress I could not have anticipated.

What should I do? How do I communicate these needs? If I can never do that during consultation, because I am always left to deal with mishaps instead, should I write something? With which tone? How am I supposed to get it through to my GP?

#actually autistic #asd #gp #doctors #mental health

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

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One Misunderstanding

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You struggle to fix Bucky's first impression of you. Bucky struggles with his own feelings.

Warnings: angst, Hydra things- like brainwashing and torture, a few curse words, panic attacks, anxiety

Word count: 5609

a/n: this idea came to me very suddenly, but I'm in love with it. Hopefully whatever I just wrote does it justice.

Masterlist

"Everyone, meet Y/N. She's the newest member of our little group, bringing in a whole new level of hacking and tech skills. Y/N, meet the team." Tony introduced you to everyone, eager to share your skills.

You turned to the group, getting ready to introduce yourself further, but instead tripped. You shrieked as you fell down the small set of stairs you were at the top of.

Sam, being the closest, caught you. "Good thing you've got tech skills." He chuckled as you righted yourself, firmly planting your feet on the ground.

"Haha, yeah. I'm not a big fan of violence." You winced as you said it, wishing you could take it back. You didn't want to get into the reasons as to why you don't like violence.

To your surprise, nobody asked why. You would have guessed they would have questions, but maybe they weren't interested in your past. They all had their own issues to deal with afterall.

"Eh, we don't need anymore people for fighting anyway. Welcome to the team." Steve greeted you warmly, as you would have expected from America's golden boy.

You gratefully shook his hand, glad to not have to talk about anything yet. Unfortunately, you tripped again when you tried to move back, falling into the one and only Bucky Barnes.

His hands steadied you, dryly laughing at your clumsiness. "You really are clumsy."

You did you best to not show how embarrassed you were. You couldn't deny the claim. Unless you were fighting, something you vowed to yourself to never do again, you were clumsy.

Being abducted and tortured by Hydra may have made you a competent fighter, but your aptitude for tripping over nothing never left.

"Right, sorry!" You greeted everyone else quickly, eager to get situated in your room. "I'm just going to unpack everything." You waved as you backed out of the room, bumping into the wall as you left.

You had just finished putting away your stuff when you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You figured someone would have questions for you.

Unsurprisingly, Natasha was the one to step into your room. Of everyone there, you expected her to have learned about your past. It comes with the territory of being a spy.

"Hi, I was hoping to talk to you." Her tone was friendly, but clearly she was skeptical of you. Again, you weren't surprised.

"I thought you might. I'm assuming you read my file? Honestly, I thought everyone would." You laughed gently, shaking your head at yourself.

"I did. Your file is pretty bare bones though. I did some extra digging... Not everyone else is as nosy as me." She grinned, already pleased with your openness. "So, why'd you pretend to be clumsy?"

"Oh, it wasn't pretend. I've always been clumsy. When everything happened, and I learned how to fight, I thought my newfound agility would help. Turns out, it didn't. The only times I'm even the slightest bit coordinated are when I'm fighting or training, but I wasn't lying about that either. When I escaped, I promised myself I wouldn't hurt anyone else."

"Why join the Avengers at all then?" She looked curious, still unsure if she could trust you.

"I wanted to help people. I just didn't want to use the skills they gave me to do it. So, I learned how to code, figured I could help behind the scenes."

She smiled, letting down her guard. Clearly it would take some time, but you could easily see the two of you being close friends.

"So, nobody knows about what you went through?" She couldn't help but be curious about your past.

"Nope. I don't talk about it much, but it's not a secret. I'll answer anything you want to know." You smiled, eager to try and make a real friend here.

You spent the next few hours answering every question Natasha could think of. You told her about being abducted and experimented on.

That lead to even more questions, basically boiling down to the fact that you're not a super soldier, but you do have enhanced senses- and seemingly enhanced clumsiness for when you're not using them.

You told her about learning how to fight, and the punishments you would endure if you got it wrong. The two of you bonded over the shared experience.

Finally, you told her about how you escaped. When the Winter Soldier escaped, every Hydra effort possible was made to find him. That included you. Resources were spread thin, trying to cover more areas. It was the perfect opportunity for you to get out.

"Really, I owe my freedom to him. Even if he doesn't know anything about me." You felt the tears in your eyes, too many emotions swirling through you to keep it all in anymore. "Since then, I've learned everything I could about technology and coding, which pretty much brings you up to date."

Before she could ask anymore questions, there was another knock on your door. Quickly wiping the tears from your eyes, you called another "come in!"

Steve poked his head in the door, cautiously looking between you and Nat.

"I've been sent to stop the interrogation." He grinned, stepping farther into the room.

Nat rose from her spot on the bed, kissing him on the cheek while rolling her eyes. "It wasn't an interrogation. We were bonding."

"Yeah, over what?" He chuckled, trying to figure out what the two of you had in common.

Maybe it was the look in your eyes, or maybe Nat just likes knowing more than everyone, but she smiled conspiratorially at you before responding. "Girl stuff, babe. Just girl stuff."

You smiled as the couple left the room, grateful for not having to explain everything again.

Over the next few weeks, the team constantly teased you for your clumsiness. Well, not the whole team. Nat knew the truth, so she never said anything. Peter never teased you either, although that is likely due to the teasing he endures as well.

Weirdly enough, you bonded with the kid over it, eventually telling him about your past as well.

Normally you could shake it off. They clearly didn't mean anything by it. Except Bucky.

Whenever he said anything, he stared you down. His eyes felt like they were piercing your soul. You're not sure exactly why, but he didn't seem to like you much.

Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have an embarrassing crush on the man.

Really your infatuation started when you first escaped Hydra. His own escape lead to your freedom, so you admired him. When you found out he was working with the Avengers to help people, you admired him even more.

Watching him on missions is really what caused the infatuation to blossom into a full blown crush.

You, however, would adamantly deny that if anyone ever asked. Which is what just happened.

"What?!" You nearly tripped, again, with how quickly you turned to look at Wanda and Nat.

"You heard me." Nat stared at you, a neutral expression on her face. "When are you going to do something about your crush on Barnes."

"I, I don't- I don't have a crush on Bucky." You stuttered, a lackluster job at denying the truth.

"Please, Y/N. It's so obvious!" Wanda joined in.

The three of you hung out a lot around the compound. It was nice to have a support system to lean on when things got hard.

"Well, even if I did, which I'm not saying I do! He doesn't like me. I don't know what I did, but his eyes feel like daggers whenever we're in the same room." You started out strong, but quickly morphed into a sad resignation. It genuinely upset you that Bucky didn't like you.

"I think I might know what that's about..." Wanda bit her lip, immediately feeling guilty at having said anything.

"What!?" You eagerly turned to her, needing answers. You shuffled your way across the room, never fully rising from your seat on the ground.

"I don't know if I should tell you! I'm not even supposed to know, but sometimes his thoughts are really loud!" Her guilt multiplied.

"You have to tell me now! Then I can fix it!" You were practically begging at her feet from your position on the floor.

She looked at Nat, who just shrugged in return. "Not my place, although I would love to hear it."

"Ugh, fine. But you can't tell anyone I told you!" Wanda glared at the two of you, unable to say no to your pouting face. "The first day we all met you, do you remember what you said?"

Your face scrunched as you tried to remember. "I'm not a big fan of violence?"

She nodded, looking at you as if she just told you everything.

"So?" You asked incredulously, unable to follow her train of thought.

She rolled her eyes, having to spell it out for you. "He kind of took that personally..."

Immediately, you sunk completely to the floor. "Oh, god. Fuck! That's not what I meant at all! I just meant I don't personally like using violence! Shit, shit, shit." You continued to mutter to yourself as Nat and Wanda shared a look.

"Why don't you like using violence?" Wanda asked, intrigued by your reaction.

You thought back to your conversation with Nat the first day you got here. You told her it wasn't a secret, it just wasn't something you brought up.

"Can you just look in my head? I don't really wanna explain it, but I want you to know." You asked, glad to share you past with another friend.

Wanda nodded, seemingly doing nothing until realization dawned on her.

"Oh shit." She whispered, not even realizing she said it out loud.

"Yeah." You huffed out a dry laugh.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry." You smiled at her, having worked through most of the trauma already. "You totally have a crush on Barnes though."

That earned a real laugh. "Hey, that's not what you were in there for!"

"It's not my fault! You were thinking it really loudly!"

The three of you laughed together until you sunk back into a pit of despair.

"What do I do? How do I fix this?" You whined, laying back on the ground like a child.

"I think you just need to talk to him. Explain what you meant." Wanda shrugged, unsure of any other advice to offer you.

"She's right. Just talk to him." Nat nodded along as you whined on the floor.

After a few days, you finally worked up enough courage to try and talk to Bucky. He had just finished training, so you knew exactly where he'd be: in the kitchen.

Walking in, you were glad to see him pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"Hey Bucky, can I, um, talk to you for a minute?" You stuttered through the words, nervous about what he would say.

He barely looked at you, nodding his head for you to continue.

"I just, I wanted to apologize." You trailed off when his head snapped up.

"For what?" Well shit. How are you supposed to explain this one without ratting out Wanda.

"Oh, well, um... I just thought maybe I said- I did something that upset you. Uh, you just don't seem to like me very much, which is totally cool, you don't have to like me if you don't want to. I just didn't want it to be my fault... Fuck." That went horribly. Taking a deep breath, you started over. "I didn't mean it."

Bucky is looking at you like you have three heads. "Didn't mean what?"

"That I don't like violence."

"So you do... like violence." He'd somehow grown more confused.

"Well, no." You paused, unsure of how to explain yourself.

"Then you did mean it." His soul piercing stare is back.

"I-"

"It's fine, save it. Some people get to choose not to be violent." And with that, he left the kitchen, abandoning his post workout smoothie.

You stared at the doorway, in shock over how poorly that went. You stood there , unaware of the 25 minutes that had passed, trying to figure out how it could've gone better when Steve found you.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You didn't hear him, too lost in the memories. Memories of Hydra, forcing you to do things you never wanted to. This happened from time to time if something triggered you into remembering, otherwise you had a handle on your emotions.

"Y/N?" Steve said your name again, concern evident in his voice. He gently laid a hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

Everything happened so fast after that. The feeling of someone's hand on your shoulder caused you to panic. With all the memories of Hydra in your head, your training kicked in instinctually.

You grabbed Steve's arm, pulling him closer to you for better leverage. Before he could question your moves, you flipped him, pinning him to the ground.

The second you made eye contact, you realized what just happened. Horror and regret flashed in your eyes.

In an effort to get off him, you threw yourself backward, knocking into a cart full of pots and pans. The clanging of metal hitting the ground echoed through the small room.

Steve sat up slowly, trying to register the turn of events. You sat in a ball on the floor, tears pooling in your eyes, mumbling apologies over and over again.

Sam, having heard the commotion from the pots and pans, ran into the kitchen ready to fight.

"What- What happened?" He asked in confusion, lowering his arms from their defensive position.

"I don't know." Steve looked at you, still trying to figure it out.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice was gentle, but it still startled you.

You jumped from the ground, rushing to help Steve get up. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to. I never wanted to hurt anyone again." Your breathing was picking up, short bursts of air leaving your lungs. Your hands were shaking as you pulled him from the ground.

Your panic increased as you took in their concerned expressions.

"Hey, look at me." Steve's Captain voice, came out, urging you to make eye contact. You followed orders, breathing rapidly, your whole body shaking.

"I'm going to touch you now, is that okay?" His words were gentle, but commanding, causing you to nod in response.

He pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You wanted to explain, to tell them what happened, but all that came out was a pitiful "Bucky".

"Do you want me to get Bucky?" Sam asked, trying to understand you.

The idea of Bucky coming back caused your panic to increase. You shook your head rapidly, "No! No no no no no." You kept repeating the word, shaking in Steve's arms.

"Okay! Okay, no Bucky." Sam reassured you, voice calm and soothing.

You’re not sure how long you stood like that. Sam moved around the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and pans you had knocked over.

When your breathing steadied, Steve asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You nodded, leading the two men to the couch in the adjacent common area. You sat for a minute, unsure of where to start.

"Why don't you just lead us through it all?" Steve suggested, still rubbing your back.

You nodded, grateful for the starting point. "I went to the kitchen to apologize to Bucky."

"What for?" Sam interrupted, already confused.

"Sam! Just let her talk." Steve muttered, slightly annoyed.

"Sorry!" He glared back at Steve before turning to you, "Sorry, please continue."

You couldn't help but laugh at their banter.

"Right, I wanted to apologize for what I said the first day I met you all. I realized how it sounded, so I wanted to try and fix it." You paused, waiting for the recognition to hit them.

It didn't take long. The two men nodded, silently urging you to continue.

"Honestly, Wanda told me that was why he always seems mad at me. You have to know, I never meant for it to come across that way! It's more of a personal, 'I don't want to be violent' than shunning others for doing what's necessary." You took a deep breath, not eager to relive the conversation.

"Anyway, I told him I didn't mean it. I just couldn't explain it right, and he got upset, which makes sense!" You turned to look between them, not wanting them to think you were insulting Bucky in any way. "I don't hold what he did against him. It wasn't his choice, and I completely understand that. I just couldn't put that into words when I was talking to him, and I made everything worse."

Tears popped into your eyes again, upset at what he must be going through. You weren't with Hydra for but a tenth of the time he was, and you didn't endure the same level of brainwashing.

"He said something about some people not being able to choose not to be violent, and then he left. I don't know how long I was standing in the kitchen replaying the conversation, but it brought up bad memories for me." You sighed again, working up the nerve to tell them everything.

"Wanda and Nat already know, but I guess it's your guys's turn. This was so much easier to just have Wanda read my mind." You laughed at your own joke, the two men sharing a concerned look.

"I was taken... by Hydra. They experimented on me, gave me enhanced senses, trained me to fight, and punished me when I did something wrong." Again, tears sprung into your eyes, occasionally falling down your cheeks.

"Why wasn't this in your file?" Steve questioned, more to himself than you.

"I haven't got a clue. I guess nobody knew about me? But, I escaped. They didn't brainwash me like they did Bucky, because I don't have the serum. Or, at least, I think that's why." You shook your head, refocusing on the important parts.

"When every available Hydra agent was tasked with searching for the Winter Soldier, I took it as on opportunity. Their resources were spread thin. I was able to getaway."

You went onto explain your reasoning for joining the Avengers as a tech specialist, trying to convey the same earnestness you did with Nat.

"You can ask Nat or Wanda too. Nat found out day one, Wanda a few days ago." You wiped your tears, hoping they believed you. "Actually, Peter knows too."

"I was stuck in all those memories when you came into the kitchen. I didn't even register that you were in the room, so when you touched me I freaked out. I never meant to hurt you!"

You looked at Steve fearful that he would be upset.

"Y/N, I believe you." You cried tears of relief at his statement, genuinely exhausted from the day. "It's not your fault, and you didn't hurt me. Just caught me off guard. You're surprisingly agile when you want to be." He tried to lighten the mood, glad to hear you laugh.

"Well, I train in the middle of the night sometimes. I- I want to be able to get out if I'm ever forced back there." Your voice was quiet, admitting a secret you hadn't even told Nat.

"We won't let that happen." The sternness of Sam's voice surprised you.

"Thank you." You wiped your tears a final time, looking between the two men. "Now, what do I do about Bucky?" You refocused your energy on fixing your relationship with the super soldier.

"He never would have said what he said if he had known." Steve started the conversation, defending his friend.

"I know. I don't hold it against him, I just wish I could explain. I get so nervous when he looks at me like that." You rambled, too tired to filter your thoughts.

"Like what?" Sam asked, eager for more information to tease Bucky with.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. Like he can see into my soul." You deadpanned, earning a laugh from both men. "I just want him to like me." You nearly whined, upset by your poor relationship.

"Like you, huh?" Steve grinned. Nat and Wanda chose that exact moment to walk into the room, eagerly joining the conversation.

"Barnes? Did you tell him how you feel?" Wanda squealed with excitement.

You buried your head in your hands, avoiding the knowing looks the four of them were surely sharing. "Not exactly." You gestured to your head, hoping Wanda would figure it out and share with Nat.

"Ooh... It didn't go well, basically Barnes got upset, Y/N flipped Steve and had a panic attack, then told these two everything." Wanda explained to Nat quickly, trying not to make you relive it.

"We need a plan." Nat declared.

"No, I just need to learn how to have a conversation with the man." You rolled your eyes at yourself. "I'll try talking to him again." You went to leave the room, turning around to glare at them. "And none of you can say a word of this to Bucky."

Despite you request, Steve still tried to talk to Bucky.

"What's up with you?" Steve questioned, trying to subtly pry into Bucky's thoughts.

"Nothing. Why?" Bucky answered in a questioning tone, trying to figure out Steve's motives.

"I heard you talked to Y/N is all. How'd it go?" He gave up on the subtle approach pretty quickly, knowing Bucky wouldn't answer a question that wasn't asked.

"How did you even hear that, punk?" Bucky deflected.

"Not the point. Answer the question."

"Not great. I messed it up." Bucky sighed, annoyed at himself for barging out of the room. "She said wanted to apologize, that she didn't mean what she said." He ran his hands through his hair, struggling to explain where it all went wrong.

"Would've been fine if I could follow what she was saying. She was rambling about me not liking her, which you and I both know isn't true. Ugh, i've never been mad at her. I'm mad at myself! At Hydra for making me a monster! How could she ever like me if she doesn't like violence? My entire past is violent." He huffed, having worked himself up again.

"You're not a monster, Buck." Steve started gently.

"I know you think that." Steve gave him a pointed glare. "I know, okay? But what does she think?"

"Maybe you should try talking to her. You might be surprised by what you learn." Steve clapped him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him, before leaving the room.

Everytime you tried to talk to Bucky, something got in the way. The first time, he was called in for an emergency mission before you even got the word hello out.

The second time, Tony walked into the common area, completely oblivious to the tension, and put on a movie.

The third time, Steve and Nat interrupted you. You were just about to apologize again after an awkward greeting when the elevator doors opened. The sounds of the cheerful laughter and stolen kisses didn't really set the mood for confessing your past with Hydra.

The fourth, and final time, was the most embarrassing.

You walked into the room on a mission. You were going to talk to him, no matter who decided to walk in.

"Bucky, I really need to-" and you tripped on a toy Morgan left out, causing you to tumble to the ground. That would have been embarrassing enough, but there's more.

In your effort to get up, you tripped again, hitting your head on the coffee table, causing you to bleed profusely.

"Shit." You cursed yourself, holding your hand up to your bleeding forehead.

"Are you okay?" Bucky rushed to you from the other side of the table, concerned with the amount of blood spewing from your head.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Unfortunately, you chose that moment to jokingly reference your past.

Some of the people who tortured you had a sick sense of humor. Whenever they would hit you hard enough to make you bleed, they said something about only having one head. A play on words because of the greek serpent with multiple heads.

"Head wounds bleed a lot, I'm lucky I only have one." You froze instantly, unsure if he would have had a similar experience. Slowly, you looked up in an effort to make eye contact.

Bucky was also frozen in place. Clearly he understood the reference.

"Wh- where did you hear that?" Bucky struggled with his sentence, trying not to flashback to his time at Hydra.

"Oh my god. I'm so so sorry." You instantly started apologizing, trying to backtrack. "I really need to learn when to stop fucking talking." You said more to yourself than him.

"Where did you hear it?" He asked again, putting more power behind his words.

"Um, well, i've been trying to tell you for weeks now, but um, I also kind of, have, um, well, you see-"

"Just spit it out." There was the slightly miffed Bucky you were used to.

"I was taken. By Hydra. 9 years ago. Um, they forced me to learn how to fight. Tortured me if I did anything wrong. Forced me to do things..." You trailed off, realizing you didn't need to give him many details. He has first hand experience.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off before he could say anything else.

"That's why I don't like using violence. I only know how to do that stuff because they made me learn it. I didn't want to use the skills they gave me." You took a deep, grounding breath.

"I don't blame you for anything you were forced to do. It wasn't your choice. You're not a violent person, and your past actions don't define who you are. You're here to help people. That's what you chose. That's who you are."

You made eye contact before you continued. "I've actually wanted to thank you for the longest time."

"For what?" He was incredulous, wildly caught off guard by everything you've said.

"The only reason I had an opportunity to escape was because 2 years ago, you escaped. If Hydra's resources hadn't been spread so thin trying to find you, I probably would've never got out. So thank you. For being strong enough to fight back."

You smiled at him, still unsure of how he was feeling.

"I... I'm so sorry." To say you were stunned was an understatement. What the hell could he have to be sorry about? Sure he was a little rude, but from your point of view he was completely justified in hating you.

"Bucky, you have no reason to be sorry. You didn't know, and I couldn't get out of my head enough to tell you. You just make me nervous." You clapped a hand over your mouth, shocked at having said what you just said.

You could see his face fall ever so slightly, causing you to jump back into your explanation.

"Not because I'm scared of you or anything! Hell, I could probably take you in a fight." You winked, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, judging by the slight smirk on his face.

"I just, I've looked up to you for so long. Your determination to do good after everything you've been through is really inspiring. It's actually why I wanted to join the Avengers in the first place. I never would have-" You would have kept rambling if he hadn't stopped you.

"Y/N, I am sorry, and I do have reason to be. There's no excuse for what I said to you in the kitchen that day. Even if I didn't know, I threw everything you've been through back in your face. If someone had done that to me, I probably would have had a panic attack." He tried joking, but by the way you froze he could tell he struck a nerve.

"You had a panic attack? I'm so sorry! God, I just left you all alone and-"

It was your turn to cut him off. "Actually, I was kind of frozen in place until Steve touched me and I maybe threw him to the ground... Then I had a panic attack..." You smiled, trying to convey the joke. "So, I wasn't alone. Sam was actually also there. If anything, it made me better friends with both of them because I told them everything. So I have you to thank for that to." You playfully nudged his side.

He ran his hands through his hair, then down his face, clearly trying to deal with his own guilt.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it. You didn't know. It happened. We're good now, so we can move on." You smiled, trying to cheer him up.

"How are you so relaxed about all of this? You were tortured for years... I..." He was genuinely curious, trying to find a way to cope with his own pain.

"Well, even before that I always thought therapy could be helpful for me, so I really jumped in full force when I was free. Plus, if you can't joke about something, you haven't really moved on. Some days are harder than others, but I just try to appreciate the people I have now and the good experiences I've been lead to." You kept the tone light, trying not to get too emotional.

He just stared at you for a few minutes, making you questions everything.

"I mean, it's totally different for you though! I was only there for 7 years, you were forced into all that for like 10 times as long. I didn't mean to belittle-"

"I think you inspire me just as much as you say I've inspired you." He cut you off again, a small smile growing on your lips.

"Well, in the spirit of our newfound friendship, can I be totally honest?" You bit your lip, nervous about telling him the truth.

He looked nervous as well, but nodded anyway.

"I kind of, maybe, sort of have a crush on you." You watched his expression carefully, although there was really no need. His face easily gave away his surprise.

"You..." He stuttered, moving his fingers between the two of you. "Me? But, I was so mean!"

"What can I say, I saw through the facade... Well, really Wanda accidentally read your mind and told me why you were so upset around me when her and Nat teamed up to get me to tell you how I feel." You rambled again, realization dawning that you accidentally outed Wanda.

"But you can't tell her I told you that! She didn't mean to! She just said you think really loud sometimes and it's hard not to hear it! She did it to me too actually, I mean I told her she could look in my head so I wouldn't have to explain everything again, I know so lazy, and that's how she confirmed my crush on you." You said it all with wide eyes at a rapid speed, unable to control yourself around Bucky.

You slapped your hands over your mouth, forcing yourself to stop talking. Bucky looked on in amusement, slowly reaching to pull your hands away from your face.

"I won't tell her, if you get dinner with me tonight." He smiled cheekily, relishing in your blush.

"That's a deal I'm willing to make." You reached your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek before running to get ready.

***

Bonus:

Sam whined playfully as he looked at the high scores. "Whose username is 'God is a spoon' and how did they get so good at this game?"

He looked around the room, eying any suspicious candidates. Everyone denied it, throwing out accusations left and right.

It was another of Tony's team bonding nights and he chose VR games on the oculus. Obviously, Beat Saber was a top contender amongst the group.

You walked in with Bucky, unaware of the conversation going on, but immediately joining it.

"Peter! I bet it was him!" You playfully nudged the younger Avenger, having formed a close friendship in the early days. "What am I betting on?" Everyone laughed, happy to see you in a good mood after being so stressed for so long.

"Whose username is 'God is a spoon'." Sam chuckled after filling you in. You and Bucky settled on the couch, cuddling next to each other.

"Oh, that's me. Why?" You looked around curiously, trying to figure out what they wanted. "Is it a weird username? It was actually one of the catchphrase things in Just Dance on the switch, I didn't just think of it." You tried to justify yourself, causing more laughter.

"You?! How did you get all the highscores on this game? I thought you were the clumsy one."

You made an exaggerated face to show how offended you were, playfully swatting at Sam.

"I'll have you know, 7 years of Hydra 'training' and experimentation has its perks." You joked with the room. "One of them being I can beat your ass at pretty much any video game."

"Oh, you're so on." Sam smiled, glad he could joke around with you about it.

Meanwhile, Tony looked incredulously around the room, being the only one in the room who hadn't heard about your history, he was rightfully confused.

"I'm sorry, 7 years of WHAT?"

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #natasha romanoff #captain america #tony stark #peter parker #sam wilson #bucky barnes #marvel fic #tw: panic attack #steve rogers x natasha romanoff

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youare-mysonshine · 3 years

Text

heavy || bucky barnes

Summary: reader’s mental health has been taking a decline and bucky is there.

Requested: No

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: talks of mental health, depression, anxiety, angst, cussing.

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Hey guys, I’m back I guess lmao. I’ve really been struggling with my mental health lately and I guess I kinda just wanted to put it into words, something productive? And I’ve been feeling our angsty emo boy bucky barnes. Most of you might’ve followed me for my Oscar fics but I kinda wanna branch out and I thought this would be a good time to do so. Anyways, I know that some of you have inboxed me or messaged me and I haven’t responded and I’m sorry. But I just want you all to know that if you’re struggling, I’m always here to talk. About anything, always. So, I hope you enjoy this. I might’ve cried while writing this lmao and I also might’ve ended it on such an awkward place but, i’m still getting used to writing again. (Flashbacks are in italics)

————

Bucky didn’t miss the dark circles under your eyes. He didn’t miss the way you sort of slouched as you approached him. He didn’t miss the way that your smile didn’t really meet your eyes.

“Hey,” You said in a breathless voice. “Sorry, I’m late. I got held up.” You said as you took a seat across from him in the booth. Held up. It was better than telling him that you were thinking of just not showing up at all. In the end, you knew that you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t just blow off your new friend who you had so enjoyed spending time with. So, in a rush, you got dressed and made your way to the small, quiet diner that you two had taken to frequenting together. Bucky Barnes was an enigma if you’d ever met one. The way that you had met was rather.. cliche and something straight from a story.

You had been trying to lay off of the caffeine for a while, realizing that you had nearly gone through an entire packet of 32 k-pods that you had just purchased. You realized that you might’ve had a problem. You had been going pretty strong with staying away from caffeine for the time being, until you passed by a coffee shop and got a whiff of coffee. You just couldn’t help yourself; you bought a cup of coffee. It was when you were walking down the street, holding the cup of coffee in one hand, looking down, that you didn’t see someone walking right in your path. You had collided into what seemed like a solid wall and the impact had caused you to squeeze the cup of coffee in surprise, the warm liquid burning your hand, staining your clothes and the other person. You had realized it was another person you had crashed into when you heard them let out a low cuss.

Bucky’s grumpy self had been fully prepared to tell you off for crashing into him, having just left his therapist’s office, but when you looked up at him with those bright eyes of yours, a million apologies spilling from your lips a mile a minute, he swallowed whatever harsh words had nearly sprung forth. He had apologized as well; both of you had been at fault. Bucky had been going over his session with Dr. Raynor that morning, completely lost in his own mind, and you had your eyes trained on the ground, something that was a bad habit of yours. The shock of realizing you had bumped into a man, a really really handsome man with the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen, had made you temporarily forget that you had practically scorched your hand with the coffee, and that you had gotten it on him as well.

“I’m so, so sorry.” You said once again, quickly averting your eyes from the handsome stranger’s face. Instead you focused on the smushed cup in your hand and the stains on his leather jacket. It just made you feel even terrible. “I, I can pay for you to get your jacket cleaned, if you want. Really. I wasn’t paying attention and I just, for whatever reason, squished my cup and.. I’m sorry.” You said, kind of breathlessly.

“It’s.. it’s alright.” His voice was like the coffee that you had been drinking. Smooth and rich. It was deep, something that reverberated deep in your chest and had your stomach fluttering with butterflies. “I wasn’t paying attention either. Really, it’s fine. And don’t worry about my jacket. No harm, no foul.” He said. “You should, uh, you should take care of that hand. Hope you didn’t burn yourself too bad.” He gestured to your hand, still clutching the cup, with one of his own gloved hands.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. It wasn’t that hot. Thank you, though. And again, I’m really, really sorry.” Sparing one, seemingly, last glance at the handsome stranger, you side stepped him and began to walk away, tossing the empty cup of coffee in a trash can on the sidewalk. But you didn’t get very far because that deep voice called out to you, halting you in your tracks.

“Can I buy you another cup of coffee?” Bucky’s mouth had opened and spoken the words long before his brain could even catch up. He didn’t know why he had asked you that, but something in his gut was just telling him too.

“What?” A look of total bewilderment had crossed your face and he had seen it.

“I just, well I thought that, since I bumped into you, I could make it up to you by buying you a new cup of coffee. If you wanted, I mean. You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.” Bucky clarified, hand stuffed in his pocket, waiting for your answer. For a few seconds, you simply stood there, unsure of what to say because surely this wasn’t happening? The last time that you had gone out with a guy was.. well, shit, you didn’t even remember the last time. The little voice in the back of your head, that anxious, paranoid little voice, was telling you not to go off with a stranger. You’d watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds and other true crime shows and documentaries to know that situations like this never turned out well. However, you didn’t get a bad feeling from this particular man. He seemed just as awkward and slightly frazzled as you felt. So you agreed.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

That had happened about two months ago. Ever since then, you and Bucky had formed a strong friendship. Your first time getting coffee with him had been awkward, as were the next few times that you had seen one another. But things got easier. Becoming friends was easy. You kind of fell into this routine, almost as if you two had known each other your whole lives. That was why Bucky telling you who he really was had been terrifying for him. He carried around guilt and shame and just contempt for everything he’d done. Everything The Winter Soldier represented, and when he told you, he figured that you would think the same. He had asked you meet him at the diner that had now become your spot and and you remember how he nervously wrung his gloved hands together. You remember when you asked him what was wrong and he didn’t verbally respond but he took off his gloves; the right one first and then the left, revealing a shiny black metal hand, golden lines intricately placed.

He told you then. Maybe he didn’t tell you everything but he told you who he was and he had braced himself for you to get up and storm out. Or, to yell at him and tell him how much of a monster he was. But, it never came. Instead, you reached out and placed your hand on top his. Not his real hand, but the metal one. You didn’t say anything. You just gave him that smile that was quickly becoming his favorite. Sometimes, silence spoke a thousand words. To Bucky, you had become kind of a respite for him. Even in the late nights or mornings when he woke up after a nightmare. Or after a particularly hard session with Dr. Raynor. He had closed himself off from other people except you.

Bucky might not have known it, but he gave you the same level of comfort as you gave him. You found yourself craving his presence. Every time you were around him, you couldn’t help but to smile or laugh. In the time that you spent together, your mind was clear and free from all your worries. It all evaporated into thin air. Your mind, usually so active with all sorts of thoughts and worries, could finally rest when you were with Bucky. You could sleep. You could get up in the morning without that stress and anxiety drowning you. It was okay. It was great.

Until it wasn’t.

“No problem, doll.” He said, gloved hands clasped under the table on his lap. “I already ordered. Got your usual. Hope that was alright.” He added, to which you nodded absentmindedly.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Thanks Buck.” You said, mustering up a half hearted smile that didn’t reach your eyes. It was like even smiling drained the energy from you. You were exhausted. Not even just physically but mentally and emotionally. You had been having such good days for a while now, since meeting Bucky. You felt like maybe you would finally be alright but.. this feeling of hopelessness, the feeling that nothing was quite right, it was heavy. It weighed you down. It suffocated you. You wanted to be alone, but you also couldn’t stand to be alone because when you were alone, you were just stuck in your head and being in your head was the absolute worst place to be.

The intrusive thoughts had started. They told you that you would do nothing but weigh Bucky down. That he didn’t need someone like you in his life, someone with clear problems of their own, when he was going to therapy trying to better himself. Even if it had been mandatory for him to go. You wanted to push him away, save him from yourself, but you also couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

Bucky noticed the shift in you. Normally when you two met up, whether it was at the diner or anywhere else, you would usually talk his ear off. Not that he minded, he was content to just sit back and listen to you. Sometimes, you’d tell him about a new book that you had started reading. You had just started reading the fifth Harry Potter book and you were trying to get him to read them. You’d tell him about your day. You’d ask him how his day went, how it went with Dr. Raynor, though you never pushed for more information. You always let him share if he was comfortable with it and he appreciated that. Sometimes you teased him for being such an old man.

The food came soon after you had arrived and sure enough, Bucky had ordered your usual. It sent a pang through your heart when you realized that he had memorized your order, down to the extra syrup and whipped cream on the pancakes. Bucky always liked to make fun of you for ordering the same thing when you came to the diner. No matter what time it was, you always ordered the pancakes with extra syrup and extra whip cream, with the strawberries on the side. Secretly, though he found it adorable.

Today, you had barely even taken more than a few bites and that was what really let Bucky know that something wasn’t right. You kept your head down, eyes on the pancakes and you cut them up, bringing a few up to your mouth and chewing slowly, but you mostly just moved them around your plate with the fork in your hand. Bucky himself had barely taken only a few bites of the food he’d ordered for himself, but it wasn’t for lack of appetite, it was because of the growing concern. His bright blue eyes were now a stormy grey, kind of like the clouds that you see during a heavy storm. His brows were furrowed, giving him an appearance almost as if he were angry.

“You alright, Y/N? You’ve barely eaten your food and normally you finish before I do.” He attempted to joke, to bring about that smile that seemed to always fill him with warmth. He half expected you to look up at him with that cheeky little smile, a mischievous look in your eyes and say “You know, I would be offended by that, but I know why you eat so slow, Buck. I completely understand. You don’t want your dentures to fall out.” But it never came.

You don’t know what it was. Bucky asking you if you were alright or if it was simply all the pressure of just.. everything, finally breaking, but you could feel the hot tears in your eyes. They blurred your vision until you couldn’t really see the plate of the pancakes in focus. The dam had finally come apart and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You set the fork down and buried your face in your hands, your shoulders lightly shaking as you began to cry. All Bucky could do was stare for a few seconds, alarm written all over his face. Alarm and distress because he had no idea what just happened and if he had done something to upset you.

“Woah woah, hey. Sweetheart, hey. What’s wrong?” In seconds, Bucky was out of his side of the booth and scooting in beside you. You felt the comfort of his warmth, you felt his arm tentatively, almost hesitantly, slide around your shoulders and anchor you to him. You shook your head, attempting to calm down, to stop the tears but the more you tried, the more they seemed to come.

“I-I’m sorry, Bucky.. I.. I’m sorry.. I-I’m fine. Really.” You said, sniffling. It was apparent to you both that you were not alright and he really just wanted to get to the bottom of it. Or at least attempt to comfort you. But doing that in the middle of a diner with other people around wasn’t ideal.

“Hey, my apartment is only a short walk away. Come on, let’s get you out of here and somewhere more quiet.” You didn’t protest. You just nodded and slid out of the booth after he did. Bucky took out his wallet and placed a few bills on the table, paying for the uneaten food, and then quickly led you out of the establishment. He kept his hand on you, almost like an anchor. Whether it was to reassure you or himself, he didn’t know and you didn’t mind either. It was probably the only thing that kept you from retreating inside of your mind and giving in to the panic that so desperately wanted out.

You didn’t even realize that you had reached his apartment until he had led you up the stairs and you were standing behind him as he unlocked the door. He allowed you to step in first and then quickly followed behind you, shutting the door as he did so. You didn’t really get the chance to take in his apartment because he had ushered you to sit on his couch while he knelt in front of you.

“Alright, you’re scarin’ me here, doll. What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” The sheer look of concern and slight panic in his face and those pretty eyes of his made the waterworks come back again. You shook your head, your face scrunched up in anguish. Hot bullet tears fell from your eyes and left a wet path in their wake down your cheeks. Bucky wasn’t one to pry; he hated it when people tried to pry into his life and he didn’t do it to you, but he couldn’t stand the sight of seeing you cry. He couldn’t stand the sight of your once bright eyes and cheery smile just.. gone. You eyes were sad and your lips were pulled into a frown. “Talk to me, baby.” He practically pleaded.

“I just.. I don’t.. I don’t know how to explain it, Buck.” You cried. “I-I.. I just feel like..” You let out a frustrated cry when you couldn’t find the right words but Bucky was patient. He reached a hand up, cupping your cheek and wiping away the tears that kept falling. “I don’t feel.. happy. Everyday I wake up and I just, I feel fine for like a few seconds and then everything just comes crashing down on me. I can’t ever stop thinking. I can’t sleep at night. I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like this, Bucky. And I feel fucking crazy. Sometimes I feel like you don’t even really like me. I feel.. hopeless, like nothing is ever going to be okay. I might feel okay for a few seconds but then it just goes away.” You explained, though you were sure that you probably sounded like a raving and ranting lunatic. “Before I met you, I liked being alone but I also hated it because when I was alone, I would just overthink and overthink and overthink about every fucking thing. If it wasn’t one thing it was another just giving me such bad anxiety and.. I don’t know what to do anymore, Bucky. I’m just tired of feeling like this. Feeling like nothing is ever going to be okay, like I’m never going to be okay. I just feel.. alone.”

His heart was well and truly broken. In the two months that he’d known you, he hadn’t known how badly you had struggled with your mental health. He hadn’t known the war that you fought within your mind, and how bad it had become. You were such saving grace for Bucky; you saved him from the wars inside of his mind. The constant feeling of guilt that he fought with on a daily basis, and now.. he just wanted to do the same for you. He wanted to shoulder some of the pain that you carried, the pain that seemed to be weighing you down. Both of his hands now cupped your cheeks so delicately, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. His blue eyes were shining, looking at you with not pity, but something like.. understanding. If anyone knew what you were feeling, it was Bucky.

“You’re not alone.” His smooth and rich voice was so soft, so gentle that it brought on a new set of tears. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. Not anymore. You know why? Cause you got me.” He said. “I know what it’s like to feel hopeless. To feel stuck in your head. To feel like nothing is ever gonna get better. I felt like that in Wakanda. Sometimes.. sometimes, we need help. And I know I’m not one to be talking considering that I don’t really like talking to my therapist or even going,” That roused the smallest of smiles from you. “I’m here. You know that, right? I’m here. You got me and I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I don’t care if you have a million bad days. I don’t care if you feel like you’re bothering me. I’ll be there every time.” You two have gradually gravitated close to one another until your foreheads were pressed together. Bucky was still knelt in front of you on the couch, his hands still holding your cheeks. Your eyes were closed and you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. The tears had stopped falling but you were still sniffling softly. “You’ve helped me. Even if you don’t know it. You’ve helped me.” He was whispering. There was no one but you two in his apartment but he was still whispering the words meant for only you to hear. “Now, let me help you. Please.”

“Okay. I trust you, Bucky.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #tfatws #mcu #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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nei-ning · 2 years

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I went to bed at 10:30pm - 11:00pm and woke up after about 4 hours nap. I slept so well! I stayed awake to 5am, going back to sleep, leaving my phone play some underwater music which is meant to help release anxiety, sleep better etc. Very lovely music in my taste!

Now I slept 1,5 hours. During this time I dreamed. In the dream I was in old looking Finnish house, maybe from 1970 or so. I was looking outside through window since I couldn't sleep. My, adult, little brother just didn't let me sleep. I had to share a room with him. Whenever I JUST had fallen asleep, he came to poke me once very painfully.

I saw mom and sis coming home, mom having new (still used) red Volvo. Maybe from 1980's or 1990's. I stared at them angrily, not being pleased they had go and change mom's current car, which is in my name, to this without asking or informing me. Sis told me mom needed newer and better car (and still they changed it to older).

I didn't care so I just laid on my face on the bed, ignoring them. Sis kept asking why I didn't answer, didn't I hear her, had I fall asleep etc. My brother, who now was in another room with mom, door being open between these rooms, started to mock me. I don't remember anymore all those things he said, but they made me angry so I started to yell back at him. I told him if he's such a dick, he should get fucked. I laid down on the bed, he still mocking me to mom while sis near me said something so I snapped back at her angrily: "He won't let me sleep! When I just, JUST, have fallen asleep he comes to poke me, awakening me!"

I pulled blanket over me, curling under it. I kept talking about him to my sister some, so hard trying not to cry, but there came sniffs, then louder sobs and then full - out loud - painful cry. That kind of cry when you've lost someone dear to you in real life. I cried like that over a year ago when I suddenly lost my girl cat after 14 years.

My sister then said something to my brother who, with amused voice while smirking, said: "If you really are like that, then you really deserve a guy who punches you in the face."

I heard my mom gasp, maybe even call my brother by his name, but at the same time I was literally pouring all the pain, hurt, exhaustion, lack of sleep out.

Then I ended up observing, with sis, Molang bunny with his friends. I'm not sure was it a cartoon or were they really there living in their own small but old looking mansion. Anyway, there was Molang with his friends. Around 10 of them in total. They went from another room (view from above them) in a fireplace room which had middle sized round table with clean plates, forks, glasses abd big beautiful bouquette. There was specific shaped empty spot on the table.

One bunny placed huge shiny yellow ribbon on it's shape spot, another got huge golden egg on it's spot and then 3 or 4 rushed behind old couch to dig out golden gift box under it to put on the egg. In other words, they were putting together a present! My sister stood by my side watching them and I either faintly heard her or sensed her thoughts for me: "This is a gift for you (from them)."

Then, all of the sudden, I woke up on me crying. And no, it wasn't my typical "crying", just having one tear at the corners of my eyes. I had streams of tears on my cheeks, my nose was running and I was sobbing fast out loud while being curled under my blanket, hugging my pillow - just like in my dream. I even worried Verti, my boy cat, who slept next to my head on another mattress. He instantly made asking meow sound, making sure am I okay.

So that music what I mentioned, in some level, really helped me release some 20+ years old shit. I also need to mention that my brother and I are now between our 30 to 40 and we have NEVER fight, argue, bicker each other, not being jealous to each other etc. Nothing what people consider as "normal sibling behavior". To us all that has never been normal! It's unnatural, stupid and horrible to us. We always have got along so well!

It's weird that in the dream my brother represented all those negative things but maybe it was the "safest" way because, in real life, I know my brother isn't like that at all. If it would had been my father, well, then I would had known it in real life that that's how he truly is.

But then we get to those Molang bunnies. They were making me a gift, all golden / yellow. And it was the last part in the dream in beautiful old mansion (I love old mansions!). So I take it as: After I have go through all the shit from the past, release it / let go, I will be rewarded with something wonderful and surprising! I'm actually quite eager and excited about that already, ahah! :D

#Text #Dream #Neis dream #Emotional abuse #Past trauma #Anxiety #Molang #Bunny #Bunnies #Golden ribbon #Golden egg #Golden gift box #Healing #Mansion #Old mansion

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beakami · 3 years

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You've Done So Much (Lucian x F!reader)

Hello everybody! This one-shot comes as a request from the wonderful @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 . It has been really fun to write and I just love Lucian so much. I have another Lucian Fic comming but it's longer and will come in chapters sooo it will take a while.

"fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 ha preguntado:

Okay so I think I have an idea for a request. May I request a Lucian x Reader where the reader gets off from work and is exhausted, so he provides some cuddles and makes them laugh? I love Lucian on so many levels, and he deserves more content. Feel free to take as much time as you need, and I hope the wedding planning goes well 💕

Summary: Fluff:You've been working too hard this last week to help Lucian, but it's getting the best from you, specially as you have barely seen him. But he makes sure to take care of you to repay your hard work.

SFW (If you want a NSFW version of this, just say so in the comments)

Warnings: None really. Some mention of anxiety and a couple of curse words, but it's mostly fluff.

Hope you enjoy this, and as always requests are open. Love you all❣

>>When you stopped to think about it, your life was completely different from the one you had just one year ago. It might still look the same to someone outside your “new world”, still the same normal boring standard life. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. But they could not be further from the truth. If one year ago your life wasn’t as simple (you had your problems and your hobbies, and a past to deal with), since you met /him/ it all became quite insignificant in comparison. The afternoons of reading, sewing, or going out to look for interesting new corners of the city, turned into expeditions to find vampire hide-outs or simply information that could prove useful.

>>You didn’t miss having more free time, you weren’t forced to help them but did it happily, especially after learning about how they came into existence, how they were treated as animals, as slaves. Of course, spending even a little time with a certain Lycan was also more than enough reason for you. The problem was that the key word was “little”. It wasn’t like that when you first met, you instantly clicked, and he seemed to get time to see you at the most extrage times, but he got it. He would sneak into your house at 2 in the morning through the window (his climbing skills making much more sense when he told you what he was) just so he could sleep a couple of hours holding you before leaving again; or maybe just pop up at your job to have lunch with you (or just look at you while you ate lunch). And even if you knew that lately everything seemed to be more hectic and dangerous, having him with barely any time to take care of himself, you still felt his absence.

>>Yet you did your best to ease his bourden. After work you would go to their base and make sure no one created too much chaos while their Alfa wasn’t there; you went on missions to scout and get intel; and in general took so much upon yourself that you started to be the one who barely slept or ate anything. You thought it wasn’t obvious but were proved wrong when your boss made you take a couple of days off, claiming he didn’t want you getting sick. Yes, it had been a rough week, and yes, you had only slept like five hours in total, but you were fine. You were...you were feeling like shit. And not just because you were tired as hell, but because you missed him, you missed him so much you started to let your mind run wild as it sometimes did. Maybe you weren’t doing enough, or you were doing it wrong, maybe if you tried a little harder he would be resting, he would be with you.

>>The thought ate at your head, and instead of going home and sleeping like you should have, you went to the Lycans’ den. You could help some more, you could make sure Lucian slept that night. Or so you thought, because when you got to their hide-out, he wasn’t there and no one knew where he was or when he would come back. At that moment you didn’t know if you were more tired or frustrated, if you felt more hunger or sadness. So after grunting as if you were also a wolf, you got inside his tent, containing the urge to kick something. He was busy, he had his plan to fulfill, he...you just hoped he was safe.

>>So with a deep sigh you sat down at the edge of the bed, you felt like shit, tired, stressed and just a big ball of uselessness. You were in such a state that you didn’t notice the silent tears streaming down your cheeks, nor the Lycan that stood in front of you, a worried look on his face when he saw his favourite person crying.

-Has anyone hurt you?

>>His deep voice resonated inside your chest and got you out of your reverie, making you raise your head to look up at him. It was at his frown that you noticed you were crying, feeling your cheeks wet with tears, and made quick work of drying them with the back of your hand, clearing your throat before answering.

-No one, no one has harmed me. I…

>>There you were, not helping but giving him more reasons to worry. But you knew it made no sense lying to him. He would know right away and in any case it would do neither of you any good, so you sighed again, locking your teary eyes, dark circles under them, with his gorgeous ones.

-I...I am not helping enough, and yet I can’t help you more, I am so, so tired...and I miss you. I...I was just feeling like shit, Lucian.

>>The Lycan relaxed his shoulders a little, he didn’t want you to be sad, but he’d rather deal with cheering you up than having to beat the shit out of one of his boys. He smiled softly, that sweet and charming half smile of his that made your knees weak, and shook his head, stretching one arm to caress your head.

-Who told you you are not helping enough? You do more than any of these boys and you don’t even have to. I don’t know what I would do without your help.

-/I/ said it…

>>At least his caresses made you relax your stance a little, his warm touch always made miracles with your nerves.

-You barely have time to sleep or eat. I haven’t seen you for more than five minutes in a week…

-Oh, so my lovely pup is worried about me and misses me? That’s what this was all about?

>>He smirked, and he knew what that did to you, especially when paired with how he leaned closer to you, towering over your sitting form.

-You should know that I intend to spend the whole night with you, and that I can only do that because a certain someone has been doing an amazing job the whole week. So I am going to carry you to your apartment and take good care of my lovely pup for being so good. How does that sound?

>>You swear you would have purred if you weren’t still processing what he had just said.

-Really? Aren’t you busy? A-and you should rest…

>>He put one finger over your lips and without a second word lifted you in his arms, making his way out of the tent with you held bridal style, much to your embarrassment. But you weren’t really going to complain, you had missed him so damn much that you closed your eyes and focussed on his warmth, relaxing all your muscles as if he was a hot bath; and on his smell of leather, and grass and...you swore if the image of the moon had a smell, that would be how Lucian smelled. So before you were aware of it he was already opening the window to your living room. You tried to get down from his arms but his hold tightened around your waist. Your e/c eyes raised to his with a confused look.

-You have been so worried about me, working so hard, that I feel like tonight /I/ should take care of /you/. So let’s go get a bath running for you, my queen.

-Q-Queen? What has gotten into you tonight, Lucian?

-I feel like I have been neglecting you while you were only worrying for me, and I don’t want you thinking I don’t care about you. It...things have just been quite...chaotic, and I wanted to put it all at ease as soon as possible so you...all of us would be safe.

>>You felt your heart melt at his words. He might look a little rugish, not be very vocal at times (mainly when deep in thought) but he knew when he had to express himself, he knew sometimes when you delayed things too long they could be taken away from you before your very eyes. So you answered as best you could, resting one hand on his stubbled cheek and raising yourself a little inside his arms to give him a long kiss filled with all the love you’ve been keeping every minute you’ve been away. He tasted sweet and bitter, like blood and coffee and something that was just...him. That taste always put you at ease and at the same time turned your insides warm, but tonight you were too tired for the latter and just focussed on the fuzzy feeling inside your chest.

-You know I would never doubt you, Lucian.

-But you doubt yourself.

>>He was so right that you just didn’t know how to answer, opening your mouth and then closing it again, which made him chuckle and suddenly nothing else mattered, because those chuckles and laughs of his made your heart flutter, they were gifts that you treasured deeply.

-So, as I was saying, you have done so much this past week that I think you deserve a reward, my lovely mate.

>>What could you do but blush and look up at him with adoration? He reminded you why you were helping them. How could anyone call someone a monster and say they didn’t deserve to live just because they were a Lycan? Lucian isn’t a monster, he is the kindest, most loving person you’ve ever met. So you let him carry you to the bathroom, his lycan strength making it possible for him not to drop you while preparing the bath, holding your not so small frame to his body with one arm. Soon the bath was filled with hot water, too hot for some, but Lucian knew how you liked it, almost burning. When he first found out the temperature you felt was comforting in water, almost scalding, he wondered if you could be a Lycan even if he had never smelt it in you, even if he had never met a female Lycan. Whatever the reason you liked it like that, it made sharing baths with you all the more appealing.

>>Then, and as if it was something incredibly hard, he sat you gently on the edge of the tub and helped you undress in spite of your complaints that you could do it yourself. The lycan removed your boots and socks, then moved to your shirt, jeans and finally bra and panties. He had to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a couple of seconds to remind himself what he was doing and why he couldn’t just devour you that night. You needed rest, you needed care, and even if it felt like forever since he could last lay with you, you were worth the wait, you deserved to be pampered and loved. So he focussed on that thought and not on your flushed cheeks, or on the body he adored so much. Instead he added some salts and bubbles to the tub, letting them dissolve while he removed his clothes too.

>>It was your turn to look at him, running your eyes over every inch of his body, every scar, every muscle, every mark and thing that made his body Lucian’s body. And you just loved it, loved that path of hair that disappeared under his pants. But that article of clothing was discarded as well, and you had to swallow to not make any improper sounds. You were too tired for that, but you missed being intimate with him in that way so much that you felt your cheeks burn.

>>When he finally got in the bath with you, your back resting against his chest, your muscles relaxing, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you closed your eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of flowers and orange, his mind wandered to how he never could do such things with Sonja. He always tried not to go down that path, not because the love he felt for you was any less than the one he had felt for her, but because it reminded him that he could lose you too. That the love he had to wait centuries to find could be taken away from him even more easily. So his arm locked around your waist, his thumb drawing soft circles over your hip bone. You moved your head to the side, turning it a little so you could look him in the eyes.

-Is everything ok, my love?

>>You were still concerned for him, you knew sometimes the past hunted him, and even if he tried to save you from that sadness you always insisted that couples were there to share those things. You weren’t sure when you started to be that, a couple, but when he first referred to you as his mate, you knew you didn’t want to be with anyone else.

>>He took his time to look into your eyes, pondering how to phrase it to share with you but not make it overly sad, he didn’t want to dampen the mood, he just wanted to enjoy a night with you, to make you feel loved and appreciated, because God be his witness he didn’t know how in the world he got so lucky as to have you fall for him, a monster seeking revenge on another monster. You smiled softly and raised a now wet hand to caress the line of his jaw, waiting patiently for an answer.

-I was thinking of how lucky I am to have you, to be able to enjoy these moments with you.

>>You knew, you knew he meant more, that he was afraid these moments were to end soon, that he was to lose you. But you just nod and turned your head to kiss where you could reach, first his chin, then his clavicle.

-I feel really lucky too, my lord.

>>At that nickname he chuckled and the water moved a little with how his chest and in turn, your body, trembled at the action. His laughter was definitely your favourite sound. A little more at ease he resumed what he intended to do that night, comfort you. So with you still resting on his chest, he took a sponge and started to wash you as carefully as possible, letting you relax. He cleaned from your calf up, he would leave the rest of the legs for later when he could reach, and once he was sure your skin was perfectly taken care of, he moved to wash your hair.

>>His fingers started massaging your scalp, softly rubbing at your skin, making you purr at the sensation much to his content. After a couple of minutes he decided to switch to his nails every few seconds to mix in some light scratching so you would feel even better. And you had to fight hard not to fall asleep, because it felt too good,but you wanted to enjoy his company. He made sure to clean thoroughly and also added a few more extra scratches before rinsing and conditioning it. He let the product rest in your hair while he peppered your shoulder with soft kisses, making you giggle as you felt his stubble against your sensitive skin, and then proceeded to wash it away. When you were properly clean you just enjoyed each other’s company while the water was still warm.

>>He was so calm, so content just taking care of you. And you found it not only adorable, but also kind of funny. Not the fact itself, but the idea of the Alfa, the first Lycan capable of turning back to his human form, a man feared by the Elders, being a sweet puppy washing his girlfriend’s hair. But this is what he fought for, for the freedom of his kind, for the freedom to love whoever you wished, because that is what started the war, the racism of an Elder. His obsession for the “pure” bloodline causing him to even kill his own daughter and grandchild.

-I love you so much.

>>You murmured, too relaxed to raise your voice, but you knew he had heard you when he pressed his lips to the top of your head. You could feel his lips kiss you and then stay there with a soft smile, telling you he loved you too. It was so peaceful that you stayed there until the water was starting to get cold. Your first small shiver made him get out of the bathtub, fetching a big towel and helping you out to wrap it around you and started to dry your body.

-You won’t even let me dry? You really are spoiling me tonight.

-I am not finished yet.

>>He intended to make you both eat something, and then stay with you the whole night, first talking and then sleeping, keeping you safe. He knew you suffered from insomnia sometimes, and felt really proud when you had told him he made you feel so calm and safe, chasing all the anxiety away, that you could always sleep soundly when in his arms. So he did just that, dried you, took you in his arms to your room and helped you into your pajamas (which in summer consisted of some shorts and an oversized t-shirt), and then moved you again to the kitchen. He didn’t even intend on letting you walk tonight, so he placed you on the counter so you could see him cook. The whole evening was feeling heavenly, not only or mainly because of his pampering, but because you could spend time with him, talking and laughing.

-I’ve missed you so much.

>>You say out of nowhere, just looking at him cook, and caressing the nape of his neck when he moved close enough. He smiled in your direction, how could he be so ravishing, so handsome? You sighed happily, very sleepy, but you needed food and he did too. So you did your best effort to stay awake, talking about your job to have some light conversation but be able to vent a little at the same time. It wasn’t long until you were both sitting together, eating the eggs and sausages he had prepared. You would alternate between a bite at the food and a kiss on Lucian’s shoulder just to see him smile even if just a little bit, and he would rest a hand on your thigh all the while.

>>Dinner; a cup of tea by the window, just looking at the city lights while whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears; then to bed, cuddling and kissing his lips softly, feeling sleepier by the second. You didn’t want to fall asleep, you wanted to make as much of your time with Lucian as possible, but you needed to, and he did too.

-Will...will you be here when I wake up?

>>You muttered, your voice small and almost begging. You felt a little stupid, a little needy, but you really didn’t care when being with him made you so happy and lately these were such rare moments.

-I will try, but...If I have to leave, I promise I will try and come back tomorrow night. There is some more…”taking care of” that I need to do to you once you are less tired.

>>You giggled again, this time like a fucking teenager and you loved that he made you feel that way. His comforting evening had worked perfectly, all your anxiety, tension, and frustration were gone, and as you closed your eyes, your cheek pressed against his chest you sighed happily.

-I love you so much. I am so lucky to have you, Lucian.

-I am the lucky one, my love. Now rest, I will stay with you as long as I can.

-Only if you sleep too, my lord needs his rest.

-How can I deny you when you tell me like that? Sweet dreams y/n.

>>You chuckled softly, already half asleep, and left a soft peck on his chest before finally letting yourself go into Morpheus’ realm. You were quickly deep in slumber, but the evening had left you with the determination to keep helping the Lycans, to keep trying to ease the burden Lucian had upon his shoulders, because, who would take care of you, comfort you, like he did? Only your wolfie.

If anyone wants to be tagged on future fics, just tell me and I will! Hope you enjoyed it, my lovelies.

#Lucian #Underworld #rise of the lycans #fic #Lucian x reader #x reader #request #fic request #comfort #fluff

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walkuntilthedaylight · 3 years

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The people have spoken! How can I not give them what they want?

I'm gonna put this all under a cut, since it's a bit long, and also because it's highly interpretative/speculative and not everyone likes those kinds of posts as they can be rather subjective and, I suppose, invasive. I want to give two major caveats to my thoughts below: first is that I tend not to buy the idea that Paul was the "stable/normal" Beatle, mostly b/c I view marijuana dependency and workaholism as addictions and I take them pretty seriously. Second is that I really do love this kind of tabloid/gossip/personal account shit; I think it should be taken with a handful of salt, but I don't think it should be entirely dismissed out of hand either. I read this stuff like I'm piling up sheets of stained glass: I'm intrigued by the places where the colours blend and overlap, and ignore things that fall outside the prism. Anyway, let's dig in:

Okay, so what I found fascinating about 'Body Count' is that it's one of the only sources which observes Paul McCartney's mental health during the period between the India trip and when the band breakup really got rolling. I think it's overall a fairly self-absorbed text that definitely has some lies and exaggerations peppered in there to make things spicier and more dramatic, but its broad characterization - as I mentioned in my first post - isn't exactly libelous or out of left field. Some elements that make me think it's generally if not wholly authentic are: Paul's simultaneously forceful and dorky seduction style, his terrible Liverpool diet and poor housekeeping, the bouts of thrill-seeking recklessness, avoidant adventure crafting, dark moods when drinking non-socially, the occasional hot and cold bouts with the Apple Scuffs camped out at his gate, and the way in which he underplays his drug habit, which is SO "in truthfulness we spent most of the filming of Help! slightly stoned":

These details are so bizarrely specific and have significant overlap with both sympathetic and spurned personal accounts of Paul I've read in the past, so I believe Francie is just telling "Her Version Of The Truth" here rather than crafting a piece of pure fiction. The most important and revealing anecdote in the book is this one.

There's no reason not to believe this is a fairly accurate representation of something that actually happened, imo, since we know that anxious purse strings were an ongoing issue in the unusual turnover rate within the band Wings, and there are plenty of confirmed and rumoured cases alike of extended family members feeling entitled to a "piece of the pie"; this is just like, the kind of thing that happens to working class people who get catapulted into fame and fortune. And Paul in particular already had deep-seated financial anxiety for whatever reasons he'll never fully admit (as is his right, but I think his offhand claim that he "once heard some adults arguing about money and that's why" might actually be alluding to having heard some adults - y'know, like his parents - arguing over money fairly frequently). What esp interests me about the anecdote is the way Paul seems to connect the conflict b/t his dual "identities" with these financial expectations. Perhaps the CAPSLOCK emotional hysteria related in the book is puffed up for drama, but it does bring to mind one of the most revealing comments Linda ever made about their relationship, which is that Paul needed to be told he would still be loved when the cameras weren't rolling. And that's the thing: Francie caught Paul at the exact moment that the pillars of his Smile-For-The-Camera "Beatle" identity were collapsing; the dissolution of his relationships with John and Jane.

Whatever all this could possibly mean re: the breakup of the Lennon-McCartney partnership is a post for another time. What I wanna do instead is apply the level of speculation we usually reserve for that relationship to the endpoint of Paul and Jane's courtship.

So like, Paul and Jane: I know people are resistant to this specific POV, but I honestly just don't... think it was that deep? "Not deep", mind you, doesn't mean "not significant". Paul was obviously Jane's first love (u never forget), but the feeling I get from Paul's side (as a subconscious process I mean) is that Jane's importance was primarily as a lynchpin in his London Socialite persona. He loved her family, he loved the friend group, the artistic scene dating her gave him access to, as well as the leg up he got in the class system, etc. He liked to be the kind of guy who was dating Jane Asher. But I don't know that he was the guy who was dating Jane Asher, you get me? When people describe their "great love" they accidentally tell on them (Cynthia innocently describing Paul as being pleased to have her on his arm like a trophy; John: "it was an ordinary love scene"; Alistair Taylor noting that Paul was humiliated by the breakup). Paul's a serial monogamist who U-Hauls like a lesbian, of course, so he definitely took the relationship VERY seriously, but it's telling that all of his love songs to her were either about hitting a brick wall in arguments (certainly not dreamy, fond, yearning of "sunday morning fights about saturday night"; and occasionally expressing hints of class tension too), or completely non-descript Guy With A Guitar Trying To Get Laid shit. I could extrapolate a lot about Linda just from listening to McCartney I/RAM and the Wings discography, but 'And I Love Her' doesn't tell me a single thing about Jane besides that she's pretty. It could be about literally anyone the same way 'My Love' or 'Maybe I'm Amazed' could only be about his dynamic with Linda. Some of this is obviously the natural result of getting older and gaining emotional maturity; what I'm saying is that Paul's behaviour and self-expression in this relationship does not suggest to me that it was one in which his emotional maturity was able to develop or flourish.

I want to stress again that I don't think this belittles the significance of the relationship or makes it "bad" or "fake". Like, sometimes hot people just date for a while in their teens and twenties and love each other without necessarily unlocking their inner emotional cores, usually because they don't know how to. It's, like, fine. You need to experience relationships like that as stepping stones. I simply believe that this sort of front-facing social importance being prime in the romance is a major factor in why it ultimately didn't work (and probably in Linda's reported lingering jealousy of Jane, who wasn't just an ex, but also a symbol of the life Paul ditched to build a new identity w/ her, and sometimes still pined for). With Jane, Paul was dating the "right" kind of girl (didn't put out on the first date, erudite and middle class, as serious about her career as he was, a good "celebrity" match), but the relationship often wasn't doing what he wanted it to do. Francie's observation is that by 1968 it also wasn't doing what he needed it to do either. This is the overwhelming "mood" in her affair with Paul McCartney: that he needed something very badly from a romantic partner that he just was NOT getting, and Francie couldn't figure out what it was either:

(note that she means "queer" as in "mad", not "gay")

This was an EXTREMELY roundabout way of asking: well, what WAS it that Paul needed a relationship to do for him? And I think this is Francie's big, accidental insight. The most scandalous claim in 'Body Count' is that Paul told Francie that he hit Jane and it "turned her on".

I personally think this is p. absurd absent any real proof to back it up, but like, what is Francie actually saying HE'S saying here? If she's exaggerating or lying, she's trying to make it believable within the psychological parameters laid out, right? It's not an expression of some secret desire to dominate women she's accusing him of, but emotional disturbance and confusion at the idea that the woman he was with might like that sort of forceful, masculine violence more than his softer, feminine side, which he was - yeah, we all know it - deeply insecure about.

Regardless of whether specific details are true or false (and I think there's both in this story, all hyper-magnified to make it, y'know, a ~STORY~), I think what might be true is the emotional undertow of the retelling, that this all taken together is actually representative of the side of Paul McCartney she was exposed to, at a time when his public and private facades had both become unbearable to the point of cracking and the drug-fueled optimism of the Summer of Love was getting scrubbed off of everyone and everything. It's the Paul McCartney who eviscerated frogs because he was worried he was too "soft" for compulsory military service. The Paul who modelled his masculine teen behaviour off John Lennon's fake "Marlon Brando" swagger, but was actually more fond of the velvet "Oscar Wilde" interior.

What's SO FASCINATING about all this to me, is I deeply believe that one of the key factors in what makes The Beatles music so unique and compelling is that both the songwriters experienced psychological strain from the tension b/t their parochial socially-defensive "masculine" pride, and their sensitive "feminine" core, the latter of which they were able to express in the unburdened emotionality of their music. The reason I care about doing these totally unhinged psych analyses is because I do think it reveals something about the underpinnings of the music, as well as the reasons why the band was such a hysteria-inducing phenomenon (the rise of psychology, imo, is almost as important as the rise of industrialization as a defining factor of the modern and postmodern eras; mass psychology can be understood and wielded in precise ways, and The Beatles were one of the first empires built on that). The subconscious drives caused by this tension have been ENDLESSLY picked apart re: John's psyche, but Paul's "mirrored" issues are very under-discussed (mostly b/c he's still alive so people are a little more leery about putting him on the "couch" as a historical figure). 'Body Count', intentionally or not, painted a portrait to me of someone who was drowning in their own ill-fitting celebrity "suit", collapsing under the weight of "Being" "Paul McCartney". A guy who desperately needed some sort of space to be vulnerable without feeling emasculated for doing it. By 1968, there was no one in his life anymore - and maybe there hadn't been for a while, or ever - who was giving him this space.

In other words: the thing he needed to avoid going "stark raving queer and killing himself" was simply someone who would love him 'after the ball'.

EDIT: read the comments for further clarification and discussion! ;)

#/#//#///#////#/////#the beatles #mccharmley #analysis #long post #Talking About Paul The Way I Talk About John lmfao #Taking Tabloid Bullshit Seriously #(if not literally)#*gets out my fake spectacles and jumps into the psychiatry armchair*#idk if i laid out my thoughts v well here but i hope it satisfied all the people who asked #i also tried to warn what genre of post it was for those who hate this kinda thing lol #i feel like i have more to say re: how toxic 'The Beatle' facade got for all of them by this point #and paul and john's mirrored post-india breakdowns #but francie's perspective is specifically on how it felt to be the girl he used to divebomb his relationship with jane asher SO

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antariies · 3 years

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Visions of the Past: The Departing

Summary: The Commander never told Braham about their first death at the hands of Balthazar. Years later, he finds out in the worst way possible.

Characters: Pact Commander, Braham, Aurene, Balthazar

Notes: Commander’s POV (2nd-person); set before Jormag Rising; fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; 5.6k words, CW: blood, gore, character death, anxiety attack; the departing is and will always be one of my favorite instances and it sucks that we never got an emotional confrontation about it between braham and the commander. hope i did it justice. enjoy!

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“Commander, can I use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” Braham asks one day, apropos of nothing, sliding into the seat across from you.

You slam your glass of water back down onto the table with a loud smack, screwing your eyes shut and leaning forward as you choke on your drink. After a few seconds of intense coughing and waving away Braham’s apologies, you finally clear your throat enough to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, squinting at him in confusion, “you want to… what?”

“Uh, use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Only with your permission, of course.”

“…Ah,” you nod slowly, letting the question fully sink in. You bring the glass of water to your lips again as you search for the right words. “That’s…”

A complete and total invasion of my privacy, your mind supplies helpfully.

“...a strange request,” you mutter into the cup. The only thing stopping you from shutting him down on the spot is the fact that it’s Braham. He wouldn’t ask this of you without a damn good reason. “And you want to see them because…?”

At this, Braham lights up, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what the lost Spirits said. About how I need to be a better leader if I’m going to beat Jormag, y’know? So I figured, since you’re the best leader I know-”

You can’t help the fond eye roll you give him.

“-if I got to experience some of your memories, then maybe I could learn from them,” he finishes, nodding once in determination.

“It’s definitely an unconventional way of learning,” you remark coolly, resting your chin on your hand as you level an even, challenging stare at him. You’ve cowed countless soldiers and politicians with this look alone, honed to terrifying perfection over the years.

Undaunted, Braham sets his jaw and meets your gaze dead on. “I know nothing can replace first-hand experience, but I think this would be a good way for me to practice without, uh,” his eyes flicker down for just a moment and he swallows hard. “Without the risk.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that, but you don’t miss the way he absently fiddles with something small and wooden in his free hand and-

Oh, you think, recognizing it and finally understanding. Oh.

It’s been months, but the memory of your first day in Bjora Marches stays fresh in your mind.

It had been freezing cold in the barracks of Jora’s Keep when you and Braham had gotten locked in, but the ice that froze in your veins when you watched him stumble upon the mangled body of his former guildmate was colder still.

“Alva,” he’d whispered, stricken with grief as he sank to his knees beside her body.

“I’m sorry, Braham.” The words sat like ash on your tongue, tasting the same as the first time you had ever offered your condolences and every time after that. You never really got used to it.

“Garm… used to rest his head in her lap.” Braham had pulled her head into his lap then, smoothing her hair out of her face with the utmost care. You turned away to give him as much privacy you could, but the dead silence in the barracks meant you heard every hitched breath and muttered prayer to the Spirits. When he returned to your side after a few minutes, he was clutching a small wooden figurine.

“It’s Wolf,” he explained softly when he caught you looking, “Alva made one for each of us, but I gave mine back when I left, I… I had no idea she’d kept it all this time…”

He carries it everywhere now: a constant, physical reminder of his failures as a leader and as a friend.

You know the feeling all too well.

Unbidden, an acrid tidal wave of bitter jealousy swells up inside you. It’s not fair. You never had the chance to practice leadership because you were thrust into your rank, your title, in the middle of a war. You had no one to guide you. Every lesson you learned was written in blood and people paid for your mistakes with their lives.

The wave reaches a roaring apex, then swiftly crashes and breaks against the rocks of your guilt and better judgement.

It’s not his fault, you tell yourself, that you were given the short end of the stick. If you had had the opportunity to practice, to learn from someone else’s mistakes without risking the lives of anyone under your command, wouldn’t you have taken it too?

Of course, you think, picturing the Pact Memorial that still stands in Caer Aval to this day, of course I would have.

“Of course,” you say, gaze and voice gentle, “I think that’s a great idea, Braham.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting- wait, what? Really?” He stares at you incredulously, the beginnings of a disbelieving grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I honestly didn’t think you would say yes so-”

“Well, now that you mention it,” you start mildly, before stifling a snort and shaking your head in amusement as he scrambles to retract his words. “Yes, Braham, I’m sure. C’mon, let’s go before I actually start having second thoughts.”

As he helps you clean up the remains of your lunch, you can’t stop your mind from dredging up every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in the past eight years. You shut your eyes in a fruitless attempt at blocking out the memories, a long-suffering sigh trapped in your lungs.

It’s okay, you reassure yourself, you’ll be in control of the memories you show him. What could go wrong?

“Hey, Aurene- oh. She’s not here.” Braham says, stopping at the entrance of Aurene’s lair.

You walk past him, a smile stretching across your face as you look around the room. It teems with plant life. Curtains of ivy hang from the tops of the room’s arches while giant Maguuma lilies and dozens of other flowers grow out of cracks in the floor, reaching toward the sunbeams that stream in from the open skylight. Clusters of Aurene’s iridescent Brand crystals cover the walls, filling in the holes left by years of neglect.

In the middle of the room, the Scrying Pool gives off a faint light of its own, its waters swirling lazily as you approach. The spot where Aurene normally sits is vacant, though, just like Braham said. Closing your eyes, you reach out to the bond you share with her. It hums at the edge of your consciousness, quiet and comfortable when you’re not actively talking to her. You give the slightest tug.

‘Just checking in. Where are you?’

A few moments later, a familiar sight flashes in your mind. A vast stormy sky, filled with blue-tinted thunderclouds and stretching as far as the eye can see. The Mists.

Then, Aurene’s voice in your head, clear as day. ‘Trying to figure out what Jormag is up to. So far… I still have no idea.’

“Are you talking to Aurene?” Braham asks. You nod. “Tell her I said hi!”

‘Braham says hi.’ you relay.

‘Hello, Braham!’

‘Alright, we’ll let you get back to it.’ You smile inwardly, a rush of affection warming your chest. ‘Be safe. I love you.’

‘Love you too, Champion.’ Aurene croons happily in your head.

“Aurene says hello,” you say, opening your eyes. “She’s keeping an eye out for Jormag in the Mists right now. I don’t think she’ll be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Braham says, slight disappointment coloring his tone, “Does that mean we can’t use the pool?”

“I’m not sure. Wouldn’t hurt to try, though,” you answer, walking over to it. Kneeling as close to the edge as you dare, you lean over to look into the waters. Your reflection wobbles with every ripple from the pool’s constant, self-sustained swirling and you study your distorted face until you catch some movement above your mirrored shoulder that doesn’t seem to be from the pool.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn lightly, tossing a flat, unimpressed glare over your own shoulder.

Braham, to his credit, looks sorry for maybe half a second before grinning in a way that is decidedly far from it. Still, he concedes and backs away from you with his hands slightly up in surrender. “Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I would never,” you lie, turning back to the pool so he doesn’t see your smile. You make a note to push him into it at the first chance you get. “I’ve used the Scrying Pool a few times now and I can tell you that it’s way easier to view your own memories rather than someone else’s. Feels different too.”

When you first used the Scrying Pool to view Ryland’s memories, it wasn’t anything like Kas’ glamour during the All-Legion Rally. You weren’t just wearing his face and spectating from inside his head, you were Ryland. You felt everything, including his thoughts and his emotions, as if they were your own. It had felt so real that after waking up, it took a few seconds for you to realize that you weren’t him. Aurene had to calm you down as you scrambled around for a flamesaw that was never yours and shouted for a warband you were never a part of.

You can only imagine the state you would have woken up in if you had overstayed your welcome in Ryland’s memories.

It was different with yours, though. Those were easier to fall into, like slipping into a dream, and you always woke up from those with complete clarity.

Speaking of your own memories…

“I think I know the perfect one to start with,” you say, dipping a hand into the pool and focusing on a memory you’ve already used it for. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to access a memory without Aurene here, never mind control it. You don’t even know if two people can go in together, or whose body Braham would end up in. So you start off easy. Something you both remember. The leather of Braham’s armor creaks as he settles down next to you and does the same. He watches on in awed silence as the water glows brighter, swirling faster and faster until a small whirlpool forms in the center and pulls at the lily pads closest to it.

A familiar darkness crowds the edge of your vision and you let yourself fall backwards into the memory.

It’s not hard to spot Braham when his blood-red hair contrasts so starkly against the bright, white snow that covers the land and comes down heavy from the sky.

That, and he’s also waving at you from where he stands outside the gates of Cragstead.

“Hey!” he greets once you’re in earshot, shouting over the wind, “Hey, thanks for coming.”

You glance around. “Just us, huh?”

Braham grimaces. “You heard what Brimstone and Whitebear said. I tried sending out notices too, but…” he shakes his head, determination hardening his features. “Nevermind that, we have to go. My friends are in there.”

Turning your eyes upwards, you catch sight of billowing plumes of dark smoke as they start to pour into the sky. A strong gust brings the stench downwind and both you and Braham wrinkle your noses in distaste at the same time.

“No time to waste,” you nod. “Let’s go.”

You tighten your grip on your weapons and follow closely behind Braham as he leads you through the driving snow to the heart of Cragstead, cutting a path through the strange alliance of Flame legion and dredge along the way.

This is an evacuation mission, first and foremost, you remind yourself. Your gaze sweeps over the empty lodges and homesteads, searching for people. It’s not so different from the evacuation missions you used to do with your order when Zhaitan was still alive and a threat, its Risen minions encroaching further and further into the homes of Tyria’s minor races.

You find the villagers soon enough, all rounded up into small groups in the center of the town and trapped inside shimmering domes of fire magic. An equal number of charr and dredge guard each dome, their mechanical weapons whirring and spitting the occasional flame.

Braham growls at the sight and hefts his mace, rolling his shoulders in anticipation.

“Wait,” you caution, throwing an arm out to stop him from charging in. “We can’t just rush in. We’re way outnumbered.”

“We took care of those other guys just fine,” he argues.

“Those were just stragglers we picked off,” you gesture at the domes scattered around. “Here? There’s a dozen of them and only two of us. We can’t take them all in an open fight-”

Braham makes a frustrated noise and you hold up your hand.

“-which is why we switch tactics,” you finish, flashing a sharp grin at him. “They haven’t noticed us yet. Here’s the plan.”

The thing is, you’re no stranger to being outnumbered. Your entire time in Orr was spent leading handfuls of people on high risk, high reward missions, after all. It was kind of your specialty.

So it’s with practiced ease and calm authority that you explain your plan now, laying out a classic divide-and-conquer strategy that’s gotten you and your small squads through countless skirmishes against all odds.

It’s a flawless ambush, all things considered.

You and Braham hit them hard and quick, fighting in tandem as you push the offensive and give them no time to react or warn their allies before you cut them down. And with the help of his protective guardian magic, you two manage to free everyone without a single casualty.

“Where are the others?” Braham asks immediately as he helps an older man to his feet.

Despite his clearly injured arm, the man pulls him into a quick hug before answering. “They were chased up the mountain, to the shrine. I wasn’t- I wasn’t fast enough…”

“It’s okay, Haslo, I’ll go. Will you be-”

“We’ll be fine, thanks to you.” Haslo claps him on the back. “You and your friend be careful!”

When Braham looks over at you, you nod. Of course I’m coming with you.

The trip up to the shrine is shorter than you expected, but you think that might have something to do with the lack of flaming charr or dredge along the way. That only puts you more on edge and you ready your weapons, wary.

You don’t hesitate for a second at the entrance of the cave, charging in to catch the massive Flame legion charr and his grunts off guard. You’ve only known Braham for a few days and fought alongside him for less, but you two fall into a steady rhythm almost instantly, barely having to exchange words. You make quick work of the goons, letting him take care of the hulking charr. Braham doesn’t even let him get a taunt out, stunning him with a shield bash before swinging his mace into the charr’s snout with a brutal, deadly uppercut, spraying blood across the cavern walls.

With the threat taken care of for the time being, you and Braham free the rest of the villagers and escort them down the mountain, dispatching any stray Flame legion or dredge who tried to escape in all the chaos. While there weren’t any casualties, fortunately, there are still plenty injured, so while he talks to some of the other villagers, you help tend to the wounded as best you can. They have a long walk to Hoelbrak ahead of them, and you don’t envy them the trip.

You’re tying off a bandage when you hear him call your name.

“There you are,” he says, stopping in front of you. “Hey, thanks for everything. Really, I mean, I don’t know if things would’ve turned out as well as they did if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Glad I could help,” you say, tilting your head at him. “What are you going to do now?”

“After we get everyone to Hoelbrak, I’m gonna find out where all these Flame legion and dredge are holed up so we can track them down.” He pauses, then rubs the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Uh, that is, if you still wanna come along…?”

You smile and cross your arms. “Guess I’ll see you soon, then?”

The pleased grin Braham gives you is warmer than any hearth and twice as bright.

“See you soon!”

“Oh no,” Braham mutters, the first thing you hear as you blink away the last of the memory. “Oh, Spirits, noooo.”

“Something wrong?” you ask, keeping your voice light even as you eye him up and down in concern. It was his first time using the Scrying Pool, after all. Had it affected him differently?

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, I just… I just can’t believe I used to wear my hair like that.”

You keep a straight face for an admirable three whole seconds before bursting into snickers. When Braham groans and buries his face in his hands, you only laugh harder.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, smiling, “I thought it suited you.”

He glowers at you. “You’re just saying that.”

You make a non-committal noise and wiggle your hand in a “so-so” gesture. He groans again, falling backwards onto the floor.

“That was really cool,” he says after a while, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. “Being in your head, I mean. I felt so… in control the whole time. Like I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Leaning backwards on your hands, you tip your head back and close your eyes. “You were impatient—well, you still kind of are—but you handled yourself better than some soldiers twice your age. And you’ve only gotten better since then. Give yourself a little more credit, Braham.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him flush at the praise, sitting up abruptly.

“Thanks,” he coughs into his fist, fighting a grin. “So, uh, any more memories you feel like sharing?”

You hum. “Several, actually. Ready to go again?”

You, grabbing the handles of a cannon with both hands and holding on for dear life as The Glory of Tyria lurches to the side, sending Destiny’s Edge, Pact soldiers, and Risen alike sprawling flat on the deck. When the airship finally rights itself, you waste no time, bracing your shoulder against the cannon and shoving hard until you have Zhaitan directly in its sights. The Elder Dragon is on the verge of death, pieces of its own body sloughing off itself as it clings desperately to the side of the tower. You take a deep, steadying breath and fire.

You, the only thing standing in between a crowd of fleeing civilians and a swarm of cutthroat Aetherblade pirates as they drop down from their airships. Lion’s Arch can be rebuilt, but lives can’t be replaced. You do a quick headcount, zero in on the weakest-looking one, and leap into the fray.

You, tracking down your teammates one by one as you tear through the dark, vine-twisted labyrinth under the Silverwastes, an undying behemoth of a Mordrem wolf hot on your heels. You lead them all safely through the maze, driven by the fierce desire to protect your friends. You will not lose anyone today.

You, the legendary Pact Commander, at your best.

After a few back-to-back trips down memory lane, you both decided to take a short break. For his part, Braham had opted to swing his legs over the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. When he asked whether or not it was okay to do so, you just shrugged and told him you had already cannonballed into the water before. Multiple times.

“How are you feeling? No headaches or anything?” you ask after a few minutes of rest.

“Nope. I do feel pretty commander-y, though.”

You snort. “Commander-y?”

“Mhm. I’ve been in your head too long. Any second now, I’m gonna start spouting a bunch of your expert advice.” Braham clears his throat and puts on an exaggerated voice that you swear sounds nothing like you. “‘Remember, it doesn’t matter how long the hog’s been dead. It doesn’t matter that it’s been sitting in a toxic cloud. You can always try to eat it.’”

You roll your eyes and swipe your hand through the water, splashing him. “Okay, that’s it, I’m revoking your pool privileges. We’re done here.” You pause, expression turning thoughtful. “Actually, I think we are done here. I don’t think I have any more memories to show you. None that would help, anyway.”

“Hmm, what about your time in Elona? I wasn’t there for that.”

“Uh, you definitely were,” you say, shooting a quizzical smile at him. “Or do you not remember storming Joko’s palace with me?”

“No, no,” Braham laughs, waving dismissively, “I meant before that. I wasn’t there for… ugh, what’s his name again? Balthazar?”

For a brief, blissful moment, you only recall the part where you killed him.

Then your free hand flies to your chest on instinct, ghosting over a wound that no longer exists.

“What about him?” you ask, a little louder than necessary. You cringe inwardly, but Braham doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, everyone told me you somehow took control of Joko’s Awakened army and got them to fight on your side,” he shakes his head, chuckling. “I didn’t believe them at first, but that sounds exactly like something only you could pull off.”

You can hardly hear yourself over the frenetic pounding of your pulse in your ears. “Did they… tell you anything else?”

“Not really,” Braham frowns, finally turning to face you. “Why, is there- woah, hey, are you alright?”

You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Commander?” His voice spikes with worry.

Swallowing hard past the lump in your throat, you try again. Still nothing.

You’re so preoccupied with trying to force yourself to speak that you don’t even realize your other hand is still in the pool until you feel the tug of an old memory on your consciousness.

Ripping your hand out of the glowing water in a panic, you can only stare in horror as that does nothing to stop the ancient, powerful magic from pulling you helpless back into the dark.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It doesn’t.

You throw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging a fireball as it blazes past your head. Ducking behind a crumbling pillar, you press your back up against the stone and try to catch your breath.

You’ve bought yourself some time, at least.

This is a fight you know you can’t win, but the walls of flames surrounding the spire prevent your escape, so your only hope is to keep Balthazar distracted until reinforcements arrive.

“Any second now,” you mutter, and you don’t know if you’re trying to reassure or convince yourself.

You grit your teeth as another wave of pain wracks your body. There’s a nasty gash in your side, larger and deeper than the rest of your cuts, and it oozes sluggishly, soaking your armor in blood.

It’s bearable for now, but you can’t afford to be slowed down.

“Are you hiding, Commander?” Balthazar sneers, “How pathetic.”

Your answer to that is to dart out from behind the pillar, launching a flurry of attacks along his flank and back. When he twists around to send a volley of fireballs your way, you just tuck yourself into a neat dodge-roll, avoiding them all with ease. If you wince and stumble on the landing, you pretend not to notice and hope he didn’t either.

“Aw, you missed!” you taunt, sounding way braver than you feel, “How pathetic!”

Balthazar’s face contorts in fury. “Enough!” he shouts, and both the flames surrounding him and the spire seem to burn hotter than ever.

Before you can react, the ground beneath your feet erupts in a column of fire and you scream as your world is engulfed in a white-hot inferno. When the initial blinding agony finally passes, you find yourself sprawled out on the ground, pointed stones digging into your back and your weapons flung too far out of your reach.

Get up.

You only manage to twitch your fingers.

Get up. Now.

Your throat burns raw. When you try to speak, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a pained whimper.

GET. UP. BEFORE BALTHAZAR-

You sense Aurene before you see her.

“Ah, the scion, finally come here to defend her champion.”

Finally…?

It clicks. Your heart stops.

Balthazar’s been toying with you this whole fucking time.

It’s impossible for you to form words, let alone make any sort of loud noise, so you try to warn Aurene through your shared bond instead, panic rising with every passing moment that she doesn’t respond.

‘GET AWAY,’ you practically roar at her, ‘TRAP. IT’S A TRAP. YOU’RE FLYING RIGHT INTO A TRAP, TURN AROUND, PLEASE-’

And Aurene roars right back at you. There are no words you can hear—you don’t think she’s old enough for that yet—but she can convey her feelings through the bond and right now she’s drowning out your desperate warnings with them. She refuses to abandon you. You are her guardian and her champion and she loves you and you promised over and over to protect her so she promised the same and weren’t you the one who taught her about loyalty in the first place?

It takes one self-sacrificing idiot to know one. You would laugh if you weren’t so fucking terrified of losing her.

Your vision swims and you only catch glimpses of Aurene’s skirmish. She’s a bright blue blur, swerving expertly in the air as she dodges fireballs and lets loose her devastating dragon breath every time Balthazar tries to swat her out of the sky. Snarling, he launches some sort of phantasmal chains at her and-

No.

No, no, no, nonono-

“Aurene!” you scream. The exertion sends you into a coughing fit, but you don’t care.

You’re crying now, too. You don’t care.

Balthazar is saying something, but you stopped listening to him ages ago. It’s a monumental effort just to crane your head towards Aurene, your vision clearing long enough to see her staring at you, eyes blown wide in fear as terror rolls off her in waves.

She tries to apologize and you rush to soothe her.

‘It’s okay, it’s alright,’ you reassure, ‘you have nothing to be sorry for, I love you so much, it’s not your fault, never your fault.’

Maybe you’re projecting a little. Whatever.

You only stop when a giant metal boot steps squarely into your line of sight, blocking her from view. You glance up.

Balthazar towers over you, his giant, flaming greatsword hovering menacingly by his side.

The fear that lances through your gut is primal.

You can’t die yet. Not here. Not now.

He notices the way your wide eyes trace his sword and bares his teeth in a humorless grin. Oh, he’s enjoying this, relishing the power he has over you.

“I thought you would put up more of a fight, given your reputation,” Balthazar remarks casually, circling you. With a lazy wave of his hand, his sword floats over and suspends itself in midair right above your chest.

Your already labored breathing dissolves into short, shallow gasps.

You can’t die. You’re not ready.

He lets the sword hover for a few more seconds before grabbing the hilt with both hands, raising it higher over your body. His face twists with hate, eyes blazing molten gold as they bore hungry and vengeful into yours.

You don’t want to die.

The edge of the blade glints orange from an indifferent sunset.

Please.

There’s a sickening crunch as he swings it down hard into your chest, punching through your armor and sternum and crushing most of your ribcage in the process. Then the blade severs your spine and you lose all feeling in your lower body.

Distantly, you think you hear someone scream, high-pitched and anguished. Was that Aurene? Or Taimi? Maybe both.

Certainly not you, although you’d tried to. What remains of your lungs are filled with more blood than air at this point, and it pours out of your mouth when you open it.

I’m sorry, you think, but you can’t remember what you’re apologizing for. Or who you’re apologizing to.

You’re so tired of blood. Tired of pain. Tired of feeling.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It does.

The only reason you don’t wake up choking back a scream and clutching your chest like Braham does is because you’ve relived this in your nightmares far too many times for it to rip that kind of reaction out of you anymore. Still, it takes you longer than normal to push yourself into a sitting position and even longer for your pulse to even out. Fighting the urge to curl up and disappear from the world, you rush over to where Braham sits hyperventilating.

“Hey, Braham, hey, look at me, you’re okay, you’re okay. You’re here, you’re alive,” you reassure, and you’re surprised at how calm you sound. You work on getting him to match your breaths, counting out every inhale and exhale.

“Oh, Spirits,” he chokes out after his breathing steadies, his voice nearly cracking as tears prick in the corners of his eyes, “that was… how- h-how did you survive that?”

Your mouth shuts with an audible click. Biting your tongue, you look to the side, carefully avoiding eye contact.

You could lie.

Lie and tell him the airship made it just in time and the medics brought you back from the brink with a miracle. Another close call, but you pulled through like you always do. Spare him the pain, the grief. It’s been years, and there are more important things to worry about right now. It would save you both so much trouble.

“Commander?” he asks softly, earnestly.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I didn’t,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Deafening silence, for a beat.

Two.

Three.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Braham says eventually. When you finally bring yourself to look at him again, his brows are furrowed in confusion. He stares at you in concern, scrutinizing. “You’re… definitely still alive.”

“I sure am.” Neither of you miss the tired bitterness that bleeds into your sarcasm. You wince and sigh, running a hand over your face. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s a long story.”

And to this day, you still haven’t told anyone all the details. You’re not sure if you ever will.

“Who knows?” Braham asks.

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, Rytlock, Canach, and Kas were there when it happened. Taimi… overheard.” You don’t know which is worse: being the one to hear you die, or finding your body after the fact.

They’re not the only ones who know, but they’re the only ones who matter. Even then, you swore them all to secrecy.

“Taimi called me around that time,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “Did she…?”

Braham shakes his head. “She was crying too hard,” he says, speaking slowly as he focuses on remembering. “She said something about you, but she couldn’t get the words out. When I tried to ask her what was wrong, she just hung up on me. Then she called me back a day later to say it was nothing and to pretend it never happened.”

“Huh,” you say, because you can’t think of anything else.

“I always wondered what she was trying to tell me,” Braham smiles sadly at you. “Guess I know now.”

You swallow hard. “You’re… taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“I’m not the one who died,” he shrugs, even as his hand comes up to brush across his chest absentmindedly.

But you know how it felt, you think, How I felt.

The thought hangs in the air, unspoken.

“Are you okay?” Braham asks after a while.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, automatically, “I’m fine.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He looks pointedly down and you follow his gaze.

Your hands are shaking where they rest in your lap. Gritting your teeth, you clench them into fists. They don’t stop.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, more to yourself than anything. “I’m fine.”

The shaking travels up your arms until your shoulders are trembling as if under an invisible weight. This is so embarrassing, so humiliating. You’re pathetic. You-

You don’t resist when Braham pulls you into a warm embrace.

“It’s been years,” you mutter, blinking rapidly against the itchy heat behind your eyes. “I thought I’d be over it by now.”

“It always hits you when you least expect it,” Braham says quietly, “I’m sorry, Commander.”

The noise that comes out of you is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. You know he knows you hate pity, but this is the farthest thing from it. “When did you get so wise?” you tease.

“Learned it from you,” he says, voice tinged with pride, and now it’s your turn to flush. He squeezes you tightly once before letting you go. “Are you okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” you say, and this time you mean it. You breathe in deep, feeling lighter than you have in ages. “I’m okay. Thank you, Braham.”

“Glad to hear it,” he grins, and promptly shoves you right into the Scrying Pool.

His boisterous laughter echoes off the walls and drowns out your indignant spluttering. When you pull yourself out of the pool, drenched and dripping water everywhere, he scrambles to his feet and breaks into a dead sprint down the hall.

You chase after him, smiling, and leave your memories behind you.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fan submission #braham eirsson #pact commander #me finally posting another commander pov fic after three years: hiiii.... how yall doin....#anyway this fic has been rattling around in my noggin for eight months now. here u go take it from me #i will take a hammer and FIX the commander and braham dynamic #2k4s gc saw it firstttt #thank u pals for beta-reading ilu #if u enjoyed this fic! would u pls consider reblogging? :3c #my writing

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shushiyuii · 3 years

Text

Atlantic Runaways (Part 3)

Lol we got part 3, which is mainly just a lot of fluff and plot developement uwu

Warnings: Mentions of smoking, vore, trauma? Swearing.

Words: 1.8K+

He rolled in bed as his alarm went off, the familiar tune of the able sisters calling him into awakening. Much to his displeasure. How dare this alarm tell him to get up when wait- shit! He had a job!

He came to his thoughts as he shot out of bed, checking his phone to see that the alarm was late. “SHIT!”. But then stopped for a minute, he remembered it was a Saturday. Why would his alarm be going off on his day off?

Then he realised he was going too late for his meeting with Tubbo.

He grabbed his hoodie, rushed downstairs and ran across the street to the nearby park that he and Tubbo would meet up in.

As he ran his best friend came into view, with an unamused face of course. “Tubbo! My man!”. He managed to get out as he came to a halt, panting his lungs out. “About time, you dickhead!”.

“Sorry! Sorry! A lot of things happened yesterday…”. It came out almost abrupt but confusing as the reality of yesterday’s events were finally hitting him. No wonder he overslept, he was exhausted.

“You okay Toms?”. He snapped out of his mind and looked to Tubbo, “Fine! How about we grab some coffee from the café?”, “Sure, but I’m not grabbing coffee. I’m getting hot chocolate!”.

…

“Tubbo, it’s the middle of fucking summer…”, “THAT WILL NOT STOP ME FROM CONSUMING AND ENJOYING MY CHOCOLATEY BEVERAGE!”.

The two made their way to the café in the middle of the park, it was quite a famous public area so many people frequented the place. They took their orders, the hot chocolate and coffee with a side of biscuits. Because Tommy didn’t have breakfast.

The two just sat on their phones for a moment, the atmosphere of awkwardness raising, it was apparent to Tubbo that something was off about Tommy, he was normally more hyperactive, talkative, and well, energetic. Something was clearly on his mind, and he didn’t want to talk.

But Tubbo was determined to get answers. The drinks soon arrived and Tubbo put away his phone, sipping at his hot chocolate. Ignoring the boiling temperature in favour of looking dramatic. He looked at Tommy with narrowed eyes, but his attention was focused on his phone.

“So…”. Tubbo spoke up, Tommy’s attention went from his phone to Tubbo. “What’s up?”, Tommy asked while furrowing an eyebrow, Tubbo was acting differently.

“What’s going on? You’re acting differently.”. Tubbo usual tone is gone, replaced with a serious one. Oh god, it was a serious one. Did he do something? Was he suspicious? He didn’t really want to tell Tubbo what had happened.

“Uhh, nothing?”. Tubbo slammed his fist on the table. “Okay! Okay! Maybe almost got murdered yesterday at work?...”. Tubbo always held a level of intimidation so Tommy couldn’t help and spit it out, much to his displeasure.

“What?”, Tubbo spoke quietly, not wanting to get more attention from the customers that were already staring at them. “Okay, let’s finish this outside.”.

The two then quickly ate their biscuits and finished their drinks, Tommy grabbing a can of Coca Cola on the way out. The two then made their way to their usual bench, secluded from the rest of the park.

“So, what do you mean you almost got killed?!”, Tubbo asked the moment they sat down. Tommy almost choked on his cola. “Right uhm…”. He tried to find a way to put it.

“Basically, you know that trainer guy who was really sketchy?”, “Yeah…”. “Basically, he threw me into the water with a dangerous Mer? Well, not really dangerous now... But-“. Tubbo slapped a hand over Tommy’s mouth and pinched his own nose and sighed. “Slowly.”.

Tommy in turned sighed when his mouth was released, he was going to have to go into more detail. “Trainer guy I was working under was treating Wilbur like shit, course me and Wilbur weren’t on the best of terms but that isn’t a right to treat a creature like us like total shit! So, I stood up for em’ “.

He continued, “In turn, he got mad and pushed me into the water. As you know I’m not the brightest out there and I didn’t manage to suck in any air. So, I was drowning…”. “That’s how you almost died?...”.

Tommy looked down and nodded, his arms hugging himself. Tubbo comforted him with a hug, rubbing his back as Tommy leaned into the touch. “Mhm…”. He mumbled. The two stayed there for a moment, in comforting silence.

“How did you get out?” he asked once Tommy had calmed down. “I- Wilbur saved me. I don’t know why but he did, he fucking ate me while doing it too!”, “What?!”.

“Turns out some Mers have what’s called a brooding pouch, a place where they store young. Wilbur put me there for a while”. “Wait- Brooding pouch?! He ate you but didn’t eat you?”. Tubbo said in confusion to which made Tommy laugh.

“Yeah, turns out he can speak too! So, now I can actually talk to the bitch! And now we’re friends, I guess? Well, that and he actually comforted me after what happened, so after all that I walked home at whatever time it was and fell asleep.”.

Tubbo went straight into protective mode, hugging Tommy with a lot of strength, “I’m glad you’re alive! But Wilbur, you think you guys are friends?”. “I guess so, he seemed rather friendlier than usual”.

“Whatever it is, be careful. He could still be dangerous!”, “I will don’t worry! I just, I feel bad for Wilbur. I’m gonna try and do whatever I can to help… Wait- how come you’re okay with all this?”.

“Because I know you Toms, and I know I won’t be able to stop you even if I tried so you have my support, okay? If you need a hand lemme know”.

The two did their usual antics after that, playing around and such like they have since childhood and after all that he went to bed.

…

The next day went by quickly as he was mainly playing games and stuff. He tried to think of plans, something of what he could do to help Wilbur.

…

He woke up with a lot of energy that morning, he had plans and he knew that work is going to be absolute chaos.

The moment he arrived at work that day there was a sort of rush of anxiety and excitement, he was excited to see Wilbur again but also scared of the fact of how Wilbur would react.

He walked past the halls and into Wilbur’s containment. There stood the trainer, sitting on a stand, smoking his darn cigarette.

He heard the door open and looked over to see Tommy. His eyes widened in shock, coughing as he clumsily inhaled his cigarette. “Y-you’re!”. “Yeah, I’m alive. Shut it”.

The man opened his mouth and stood up, approaching Tommy menacingly. Tommy’s confidence faded as he brought up his arms to shield himself from the man. But the man didn’t even stand a chance as water splashed around the two.

And there was Wilbur, barring his sharp teeth, his eyes dilated as he saw the man staring down at his trainer. The trainer immediately backed off when he saw the Mer, running away cowardly out of the room. Leaving him and Wilbur alone.

Tommy looked nervously to Wilbur whose harsh expression turned softer as he looked down at Tommy, he leaned down to Tommy’s height. “You, okay?”. “Yeah, fine. Thanks Wil.”.

Wilbur smiled as he brought out his hand, offering it to Tommy to which he looked down at it in confusion, to which Wilbur responded by just picking him up completely. “Glad to see you’re okay, I’ve been worried”. He nuzzled Tommy.

“Oi, stop it bitch!”. It made Wilbur laugh. “Why are you so cuddly?!”, “You should know this, it’s common knowledge for mers”. Tommy took a minute to understand what he meant then the realisation hit him.

“Right, you bitches get attached to things easily”. And in response, Wilbur brought a claw to gently rub Tommy’s hair. “Right there, gremlin boy!”. “I am no gremlin!”.

The two then settled down with Wilbur swimming around in his small pool, which honestly made Tommy cringe with how small it was. “You hungry?”, he yelled out as he pulled out a heavy bucket towards the pool, it was filled to the brim with fish.

Wilbur popped his head out of the water, “Always hungry, honestly”. He swam towards the end of the pool where Tommy was, “Right”. He brought the bucket to Wilbur, to which Wilbur opened his mouth wide.

Tommy could make out the many sharp fangs, he could easily be swallowed whole. It freaked him out, he shrieked and stepped back. Wilbur closed his mouth and tilted his head in confusion at Tommy’s sudden yells. “What’s wrong?”.

“N-nothing, just you kinda scared me for a second “, “Oh! Sorry! Just thought you’d feed me like that”. “O-oh…”. Tommy then took a breath and came back close to Wilbur, Wilbur picked up on what Wilbur was doing and opened his mouth back up.

He then threw the bucket of fish into Wilbur’s mouth, who immediately swallowed the fish. Although not normally a part of a whale mer’s diet, it was the only thing that he could really give Wilbur to eat out here.

Wilbur then went back to swimming whilst Tommy laid his feet in the water and surprisingly, Wilbur didn’t mind it.

“So. Uhm- you okay Wil?”, “Just fine, Tommy” he answered as he swam. Fortunately, Mers could hear just as well from above the water, even if they were underwater. So, the conversation would be rather normal.

“How are you feeling after that day?”, “Fine, I talked to a friend about it. Got it off my mind and shit.”, “You told somebody about me?”, his tone changed. Tommy looked to Wilbur, “Y-yeah, I hope that’s okay!”, “Are they trustworthy?”, “Yeah!”, “Okay.”.

There was another moment of silence until Tommy spoke up, “Wilbur, don’t you hate being here?”. “Yes, I do, I absolutely despise it here. I hated it the moment I got here”, “Do you wanna go back to the ocean?”.

…

“Yes I do, but that isn’t possible.”.

“What if it is though?”.

“Tommy, you’d have to be a maniac in order to pull off an operation on your own”.

“Well I am a maniac, I’ll do it!”.

“Toms-“.

“Let’s run away Wilbur!”.

…

“Tommy!” Wilbur pinched his nose and sighed, “I get it, you wanna help and I’m all up for it. But it’s dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt”.

“It’ll be fine Wilbur! Come on! Don’t you wanna get out of here?!”. Wilbur looked to Tommy who had determined eyes, he couldn’t help it, he found them adorable. He sighed again, “Finee, but we’re going to be really careful about this okay?”.

Tommy smiled and stood up, reached out for Wilbur, Wilbur happily hugged him back with his hand. It made Tommy laugh, which brought a smile to Tommy’s face.

“We’ll run away!”.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #giant!wilbur #tiny!tommy #tiny!tubbo #mer!wilbur #tw vore mention #Atlantic runaways au #Shushi's writings

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S1:E1; Chapter One, The Vanishing of Will Byers - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘖𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

The boys and I finally make it to school; my legs are always exhausted by the time we reach the student drop off.

I hear the bell ring when we park our bikes.

"That's weird. I don't see him." Mike finally says what we've all been thinking. 'Where the hell is Will?' Personally, I'm starting to get really worried.

As if catching onto my growing worries, Lucas chimes in.

"I'm telling you. His mom's right. He probably just went to class early again."

I always admired how Lucas can always be so optimistic with stuff like this; always thinking logically. He's really good at keeping the party level-headed. I tend to worry a lot so it's nice to have a friend like Lucas to keep my feet on the ground.

"Yeah, he's always paranoid Gursky's gonna give him another pop quiz."

"Well, I don't blame him. Gursky gives me pop quizzes all the time, and it's exhausting. Never knowing when you will be put on the spot" I say.

"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen."

'Oh just perfect. Troy and his goon'

"Step right up and get your tickets for the freak show," Troy says smugly.

I click my tongue and shake my head in a mocking tone.

"Oh, sorry guys but we actually can't make it today. By any chance, can we catch your act tomorrow?" I bat my eyelashes at them in innocence, the comment earning a few chuckles from Lucas, Mike, and Dustin.

Troy's face scrunched up in anger, clearly offended by my comeback.

"Hey, no one asked you, shithead!"

I roll my eyes at his cheap insult. However, the boys were having none of it, especially Dustin, as usual. They get into a threatening stance, while Dustin tries to lunge for them, but I put my arm out to stop them before they can even do anything.

"Guys, just ignore them. It doesn't matter to me. They're not even worth it."

Troy and his puppet James only seem amused.

"So who do you think would make more money in a freak show anyway?" Troy continues.

"Midnight," he punches Lucas. I clench my fists, my chest already burning with anger.

"Frogface," he punches Mike, and my jaw tightens so tight it threatens to lock.

"Orphan" he punched me. I took a deep breath trying to control my anger.

"Or toothless?" He shoves Dustin.

It's taking everything in me not to tackle him right now. I've always been like this. Whenever someone insults me, I'm able to brush it off, but as soon as someone goes after the people I care about, I lose it. Big time.

His goon sighs and holds his hand to his chin as he pretends to think about it while he looks at all of us. He then stops at Dustin and singles him out, in a voice that's clearly supposed to be Dustin's.

"I'd go with Toothless." My nails are probably drawing blood from my palms at this point.

"I told you a million times, my teeth are coming in. It's called cleidocranial dysplasia." Dustin says.

"I th'old you a million th'imes" he continues.

"Screw you," I shout, lunging for him. But before I could ever actually reach him, Dustin pulls me back, stopping me as I had him.

"Y/n, you were right. They aren't worth it."

They just laugh smugly in response. I grit my teeth and cross my arms.

"Do the arm thing."

"Do it, freak!"

"OH, I swear to GOD," I go to charge at him but Mike pulls me back and pats my back trying to calm me down. I glare daggers at the boys in front of me. I swear I'm seeing red and it feels as if my blood is literally boiling in veins.

"Y/n it's fine. Look, here," he sighs tiredly, putting down his backpack and taking off his jacket. He then extends his arms out and you can hear his bones crack. He then looks to the bullies pointedly and says, "There, I did it. Will you leave us alone now?"

The bullies groan in disgust and Troy says, "UGH. It gets me every time!" They laugh, shoving us aside roughly and walk away.

"Assholes," Lucas beat me to it.

"I think it's kinda cool," Mike offers, looking at Dustin. "It's like you have superpowers or something. Like Mr. Fantastic."

"Yeah, except I can't fight evil with it."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

{Trigger Warning for Anxiety Attacks}

Troy and his friend had just left us alone, so the four of us began making our way to class. As we walk through the hallways, the three of them end up side by side by side next to each other while caught up in their conversation which at this point, had drifted to planning our next campaign. Normally I'd be all over it but I found myself drifting back and keeping to myself, my thoughts wandering to Will.

'I really hope he's okay. Ya know what? No, Lucas is right, as usual, he's got to be at class by now. He has to be.'

I try to push all the negative thoughts to the back of my mind as I try and focus on getting to the classroom as soon as possible just to prove to myself he's okay and I'm just overreacting. The four of us approach Mr. Clarke's room and I run ahead, no longer able to wait another second. I pop my head in the door and to my great dismay, he is nowhere to be seen. I take a deep breath, and stumble back, that familiar viscous feeling of a pit in my stomach. My anxiety is kicking in.

The boys look to each other in silence, all thinking the same thing.

'This is bad. Will would never skip. And he's not at home, so something must be very wrong.'

Before the boys get the chance to say anything, I slip away and walk quickly down the hall to the bathroom, my arms tucked into my sides defensively while my head is down. I always run to the bathroom to be alone when I have an anxiety attack. I can't be around people when it's this bad so I usually end up sitting in the stall, trying to calm down. The guys know I have anxiety attacks like this sometimes and I know they want to help, but they don't know how and that's fine.

When I reach the familiar stall, I slam it shut and sit on the edge of the seat and put my face in my hands as my elbows are propped up on my knees. My breathing is ragged and my eyes become soaked in tears as panic takes over my body. That familiar feeling of nausea returning. The endless 'what ifs' begin flooding my mind.

'What if he got hit by a car on his way home?'

'What if he got kidnapped?'

'What if... he's dead?'

Just the thought of never seeing my best friend ever again makes me wail. I'm rocking back and forth hugging my torso when I remember I have to take deep breaths or I might pass out. I try to remember to tell myself that I don't have all the information and that there has got to be some sort of explanation for all of this.

That it's just my anxiety talking. It's just brain noise. I just need to learn how to manage it.

I spend the next few minutes focusing on taking deep breathes, and after what feels like hours, I am finally breathing normally again.

I grab my bag which had been thrown to the ground during my attack and exit the stall. I stand in front of the mirror washing my hands and I look at my eyes which are now totally swollen from crying.

I reach down and splash some water on my face, and rub my eyes. Getting the remainder of the water off with a paper towel. As I look at my slightly improved reflection I take another deep breath and head to class. Pretending everything's normal and I hadn't just had a meltdown in the bathroom, as usual.

I pick up my pace as I shrug my shoulders to secure my backpack so it doesn't fall. I was lucky I was able to come down from my attack as quickly as I did because it seems I wasn't late like last time. It looks like I made it with just a minute to spare. I walk over to where the party and I usually sit. I think twice before sitting down next to Dustin.

I know at this point the boys are aware of the state I'm in judging by the looks of sympathy they are giving me. The state of my eyes and the fact I didn't take my normal seat next to Will's probably gave me away. I decided to take the seat in front of my usual so I don't have stare at Will's empty seat and be worrying all class. So as they say, out of sight out of mind. While waiting for class to start I try and think of different things to keep my mind off of Will, and my mind wanders the new Heathkit ham shack that was supposed to have come today.

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