Far too much talk about how "dangerous" psychotic/schizophrenic people are. Far too little talk about how easy it can be for an abuser to take advantage of a person who is already labeled as "crazy". We're usually among the victims - not the perpetrators.
naive dispo customer x secret feeder budtender perhaps?? someone pretty new to smoking weed comes in, asking for recommendations. clueless and cute. a perfect victim. cue hot, charming budtender selling them the most couch-locking, munchies-inducing strains, not being completely honest about the effects. customer comes back the next week and laughingly confesses to how much they ate when they were high, unaware of how this is affecting the budtender. gripping the counter, swallowing the saliva pooling in their mouth. customer asks for something a little bit less on the munchies side. budtender nods, smiles, and recommends the opposite. another week goes by. customer comes back and sheepishly divulges that they ate even more. maybe it’s just the way weed affects them. they’re blushing. there’s a glimpse of budding softness, round puffy upper belly, bulging around the waistband of their sweatpants.
the budtender knows this is wrong. they shouldn’t be furiously jerking off in their car on their lunch break thinking about a stranger like this. but if this one didn’t like overeating, why would they keep coming back? why would they insist on waiting to be helped by their favorite employee? why would they become a regular, returning week after week, their trim little athleisure wardrobe rapidly replaced by hoodies and sweatpants, still unable to hide the new roundness around their cheeks and chin? and pretty soon they stop trying to hide it. they start coming in high, holding an enormous fast food soda, unsuccessfully trying to swallow burps behind their hand. eyes half-lidded, forking over cash for whatever the budtender hands them, belly hanging out from under their shirt. their gait has changed. they’re all giggly and slow.
then one day the budtender is smoking outside on their break when the customer walks up. budtender stops them, invites them to come sit in their car and “chat.” which of course means feeding them edibles in between joints until the customer is moaning, mindless, and the budtender can enjoy the fruits of their labor
heres my (hopefully) final statement, please stop twisting what i said about my disease, your lying to make yourself feel better and its weird
please also stop harassing people to believe in you in comment sections, its desperate and weird too, and extremely manipulative
finding my twitter was a huge breach of privacy, i was using that place as a safe house away from you, and it sent me down a spiral when you used my tweets as a way to boost your own doc
you have been trying to intimidate me, joining servers im in, lying to people i know as a way for them to not believe me and honestly, it worked. i am terrified of you, i have been suffering from severe ptsd from your actions, so you can rest easy knowing it works
you also lied about me stalking you, which is not true because whenever i saw anything slightly that reminded me of either of you, it would send me into complete severe episodes that took a while to recover.
you also changed the doc of your response to seem like there was always a mention of my disease in there when there wasnt and there is proof of other people seeing nothing.
the screenshots of your vents and posts (where you also admit to stalking me often) were given to me by friends who cared enough to save proof without showing me knowing the mental strain it would have on me
as my final proof, here are the screenshots of you block evading and using other people to block evade my friend mello who was two years younger than you after swearing you only spoke about NSFW with people the same age
also forgot to add this but heres the proof of rain lying about stalking and harassment when there was none (outside of my severe psychosis episode caused by her)
Warnings: coercion, manipulation, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Vorca and his bonded Mallory are on a date. It goes.
"How could you do this to me?" Mallory asked, their eyes widening as they stared up at their bonded, eyes shining with tears. Their voice was just loud enough to catch the attention of several other marines who happened to be walking past.
Vorca could feel the judgmental eyes on him. He swallowed hard and answered "I don't... I don't know what you're talking about, bonded." His voice quiet, but he could feel the eyes on him keenly.
"You promised that we would spend the day together today! That we'd do everything I wanted to do today, and that you'd cleared your ever so busy schedule so that we could have a day to ourselves." Mallory continued, letting tears well up in their eyes, their voice wobbling with pain and disappointment.
A sound of distress left the Ravenguard and he shook his head, his tongue feeling like lead. It was a blindingly bright day, but his bonded had insisted that he remove his sunglasses as they wanted to see his beautiful dark eyes. He'd tried to remind them that he had very sensitive eyes when it came to bright light, but they'd cried until he promised that he'd keep them off as much as possible. "But... But we are doing what you want, love..." He points out, at a loss as to why they were doing this.
The sense of judgment pressed harder from his cousins around him. The scrutiny was terrifying and was stifling the air in his lungs as tears continued to shine in his beloved's eyes.
He hurried to explain "You said that you wanted to go to your favorite bakery this morning to get fresh sourdough bread and that ground nut spread that you really like. Which we have. You wanted to go to the farmer's market to get fresh vegetables and those cured meats to fill out our picnic, so we have. We... We're about to head to your favorite picnic spot in the park, like you asked. Is there... Is there something else that you want to do today that you haven't mentioned yet?" Anxiety rose within the Ravenguard as he waited for their response, still genuinely struggling to figure out what he could have possibly done to get this response.
"While I was talking to one of my friends, I heard your vox go off and you answered it." Mallory pouted, a single tears sliding down their face.
That was unfair! "You... You were talking to your friend on that vox machine of yours. So I took the brief opportunity to read the message I'd been given to see if it was urgent. It was not and I reminded the cousin who sent me the message that I was not to be disturbed today unless it was an emergency!" Vorca protested, glad that his astartes training prevented him from trembling with the intense emotions that were trying to vie for dominance in his hearts. He's not done anything wrong!
"But you promised not to be on your vox at all unless it was an actual emergency!" Mallory huffed "Am I not worth one single day with you being fully present at my side? Do you really love me?"
Vorca dropped to his knees, knowing that this was going to be the only way that he was going to get them to snap out of this spiral, especially since they were in public and starting to attract more attention. As much as he wanted to flee into the nearest shadow and hide, he knew that Mallory would not take well to him hiding away from the public eye when they got like this. "Beloved... My hearts, my soul... I love you more than I have the words to express. I want to be fully present here with you, and if I could turn off my vox-comms, I would. But that's not how the systems work. Please let me dry your tears and make up for my mistake?"
He doesn't dare touch them when they're in this mood without permission. They're as liable to start screaming as to lean into his touch.
Their lower lip wobbles as more tears shine in their eyes "I... Oh, I suppose... If you promise not to answer your vox for the rest of the day... and I do have an idea as to how you can properly make it up to me for being distracted during our full day date. And I'd like it very much if you'd help me with these tears that you caused me." They sniffle a little and the judgmental stares sharpen upon him. His armor gives him no protection against them, nor the tears his bonded sheds.
"Thank you, my love." Vorca murmurs, pulling out a clean cloth handkerchief from a pouch and gently dabs the tears off of his beloved's face, murmuring more apologies for briefly answering his vox... Despite the fact that they had been on their phone for a good half hour, talking to their friends or texting while he'd been quietly waiting by their side to wait for them to decide to head to the next part of the two of theirs' date.
"You may kiss me, now." Mallory ordered.
And it was an order, not a request. But again, Vorca knew better than to refuse thee command. He stands up slowly and bends over, pressing a sweet and lingering kiss to their lips, per their request. "Yes, my love."
They hum and deepen the kiss as their arms come up to wrap around his neck, squeezing just tightly enough to be uncomfortable before pulling away "Carry me to the park?"
It was phrased like a request, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to refuse this, either. "Yes my love." He answers dutifully, not pointing out the fact that he was already carrying all of the purchases that his bonded had made, and had been doing so for hours, and that to balance them and all of their shopping was going to be difficult. But to point this out would cause them to react worse than they already have. "Please give me a moment to rearrange our shopping bags, so I have a free arm to carry you properly."
"So you can be thoughtful! It's so nice when you remember how to be a proper gentleman." Mallory coos, a sweet smile appearing on their face as they nuzzle him with genuine warmth and delight
Vorca is well practiced in ignoring the way that makes his heart lurch, and he forces a timid smile on his face as he nuzzles them back. He packs as much of the stuff into his pouches and pack as he can and maximizes the space in the reusable bags that they were using to carry everything in, so that he had the fewest number of bags.
"Are you done fiddling with our bags yet?" Mallory presses, an impatient huff in their voice.
"Almost my love. I do not want to spill any of the produce that we have purchased." Vorca assuages. He was sure that he had everything as well packed as he could, he couches down and extends on of his arms out and curls it partially, offering them a seat "Your ride to the park awaits, my radiant love."
They giggle and coo, sitting on the crook of his elbow and leaning into his chest, wrapping their arms around his neck once again "There's my chivalrous knight in shining ebony armor. I knew he'd make an appearance again." They plant a kiss on his cheek that... Burns somehow, for a moment.
He mentally shakes himself as he stands up, picking up the bags and walking with his bonded and their shopping over to the park, heading to one of the most secluded of the picnic tables, choosing the one in full shade, though there are splashes of bright, warm sunlight dappled on the table.
Vorca sets his bonded down in the middle of one of the benches, before methodically setting out the spread of food that they'd purchased for the lunch, kneeling so that the two of them were roughly the same height and asking "May I make something for you to eat with this bounty before us?" He was hoping that this would appease them.
Mallory beams and nods "Yes, make me a sandwich from these toppings, then I want your head resting on my lap while I eat. I know how much you enjoy cuddling me~!"
"Yes my love..." Vorca responds, smiling faintly as he obeys, making the sandwich to their exacting preferences before crawling under the table - as if he sat next to them it would destabilize the table and send everything flying - and resting his head on their lap, closing his eyes. Some of the agonizing headache he had from the far too bright light ebbs a little, causing a sigh of relief to leave him.
They very generously hand feed him bites of their sandwich and sips of water throughout the meal that they eat. They occasionally run a hand through his short hair, and it's almost enough to get him to relax. But only almost, as he is waiting for them to have another request of him at any moment.
I’d like to throw in the fact that some therapists (usually white women) will enable toxic individualism under the guise of self care. A lifelong friend dumped me via text, AT THE INSTRUCTION OF THEIR THERAPIST, after months of her refusing to speak to me after I expressed being hurt by one of their actions. She told me that her therapist “approved” of her avoidance of me (“protecting her self truth”) and that said therapist had “confirmed” her suspicion that I secretly hated her and had simply chosen to stop “serving” her as some sort of manipulation tactic (I had no such feelings like that whatsoever. I just missed my friend and any attempt I made to talk with her was ignored until I eventually gave up and was left confused and more hurt than before.) She also said that she was instructed by the therapist to block me in every way possible and make sure I had no way to respond in order to “ensure her healing journey.”
No consideration for my feelings at all, or the fact that we had been very close friends for a decade without any major conflict until I said “hey, that kinda hurt. can we talk about it.” A whole relationship gone in a few months thanks to a “professional” feeding a sick ego. But hey, therapists are infallible, right? Obviously I’m the problem here. Pah.
Yeah we as a society need to have a serious conversation about how often toxic or even abusive people go to therapy just to use therapy approved language as a tool of their manipulation without ever, in any capacity, actually questioning or working on their behavior towards others
People acting like I can’t be catholic and disabled >:( they have convinced themselves that I have been manipulated or forced into a religion and I need to see the truth about how atheism’s is correct and the church is harmful to me and when I call them out on their ableist belief that disabled people can’t be religious. And it’s overall crappy behavior to try and force someone to believe what you believe, they get up in arms about it all. I love my God, I love my faith, I love the church, and I love the way He made me, but that makes so many people upset for some reason, like I’m not allowed to be happy of who I am? That I’m supposed to be burdened and depressed at myself and angry with the world and God for me being this way. No one should tell someone how they are supposed to feel, what they are to believe in, and how they see their own disabilities. I am not a feel good story, I am not a justification to be angry at the world, I am me and I am not a tool to be used for propaganda
This is ableism and anti-religion.
Don't let others tell you where and how to find joy in life.
Also, people enforcing belief on the basis of "you're disabled so you must've been manipulated" implies they think those with disability are either "easily manipulated" or can only be religious if they were "manipulated" which is a whole other level of disgusting.
Side note: This blog openly welcomes members of various religions, as long as you aren't actively discriminating against a group of people, you are welcome here.
@this-is-anti-religion (feel free to ask to untag)
Synopsis; A long list of headcanons on how I think Anxiety would be like as a yandere, as well as somewhat of a fanfic
ll Caution: General Yandere Mindset, Mental Manipulation, Betrayal, Obsessive/Possessive Behaviors, Bad Ending, Possible OOC Writing
A.N.; Not me literally writing a 9-page Google HC Doc yandere scenario for an emotion jfnjrndjnredj3j3er But seriously, I love Anxiety so much. I felt like she had a good deal of nuance to her character, in-between her wanting to help Riley for the future with good intentions in mind, but executing it poorly. Should go without saying she’s probably my fave in the franchise, and one of my fave Disney characters now.
At the same time, I noticed a lot of her behavior could potentially be ripe for a depiction where she wanted to protect Riley SO much that she’d do anything for her. Eventually, that led to me making this; it should be noted that you are not Riley in this though. It’s intended to be a what-if situation, if OG Anxiety displayed yandere-typical behavior and was inside your head instead. Hope that makes sense.
Anyways, make sure to acknowledge the warnings before reading further! If any of the above topics make you feel even a bit uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to look out for yourself and click off. Your mental health is important!
If anyone needs anything additional tagged, I’ll do so and edit the post with the added warning. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!
----
First things first, I’m so sorry for you; imagine having a yandere that exists solely in your head, and no matter how hard you try to get rid of them, they’ll always be there. They exist as essentially a part of you, and removal of such things is far from easy. Especially so if that yandere in question is a personification of an emotion, which leads me to your lovesick “headmate” today: Anxiety.
🧡 ll Start:
She first showed up when you first began your puberty, similarly to Riley’s Anxiety from the movie. Like the others, she adores you and only wishes for the best when it comes to you. But all the while, the love Anxiety felt for you was growing more and more with each passing day, much more exponentially than what the other emotions in HQ felt.
Unconsciously, she slips her way into becoming the lead emotion, making you become an overall cautious individual as a whole. The others mostly disapproved of this, but they still went along with what Anxiety had in store for you since she could be pretty good at persuading everyone else into what she wanted.
Anxiety would, of course, step back so the rest can help you when needed, but as time went on, the other emotions needed to be more insistent on getting Anxiety to back down from the Control Panel. It had gotten to the point where Anxiety was basically piloting you for nearly the entire day without any of their input!
However, an awful pit in her stomach grew as well. Anxiety couldn’t help but squeeze her criss-crossed arms together as she observed your Joy manipulate the panel. ‘You were doing just fine with me in control!’ Anxiety couldn’t help but think to herself. ‘There’s no reason why I needed to step down!’
This feeling, this thought, persisted through multiple days and weeks. All the while, scenarios of you having a bad future because one of them made a mistake replayed on loop inside the girl’s head. She could’ve stepped in and stopped them, making sure you were safe, but she didn’t! She wouldn’t ever be able to forgive herself if she couldn’t protect you!
Anxiety, while she disliked these feelings, grew into someone who didn’t talk much to the others. She became antisocial, only focusing on tending to you and ensuring both your safety and happiness.
Sleepless nights and jealousy-filled days passed, and her obsession towards you never waned in the slightest. It grew, larger and more present, until it encompassed her entire life in her eyes. Anxiety lay awake one night, eyes wide open and staring up at the ceiling. Her mind just wouldn’t stop racing, thinking of you and how she could help you so much more if she was more in-control of things around here.
…Wait. Maybe…if she was more in-control…the sole emotion to take care of the Control Panel…
That idea persisted inside her head for days on end. She didn’t talk to the others during this time, refusing to answer their questions on why she was acting so weird and off recently. They wouldn’t understand. They’re your emotions, yeah, but Anxiety was your main one! She was the one who made sure you’d be protected in any situation!
Finally, it all came to a head when your Joy pointed out how obsessive Anxiety has been over you. The others agreed with Joy, and seeing everyone else loom over her with those questioning looks of theirs made Anxiety feel trapped. In an uncharacteristic act of rage from her, Anxiety shouted back at them, yelling that they would never be able to understand how she’d feel and that she was the only person there who truly cares for you. She stormed off before anyone else could retort back.
When she came back, in the middle of the night, she wasn’t alone. Alongside her was the Mind Police; she was able to convince them that the emotions there were actually rogue secrets and that the real ones are missing. Anxiety watched silently, fidgeting, unable to stop the slight guilt in her heart as she watched her former friends be pulled away and be stuck inside the Vault. ‘It’s for you,’ Anxiety reassured herself, talking about…well, about you. ‘Everything I’m doing is for you.’
It was weird at first, adjusting to being the only emotion left inside H Q, but she got the hang of it pretty quickly. Since, as the days ticked onwards, Anxiety swooned over you, sometimes talking to you as if you’d be able to respond back to her. Finally, she had you all to herself, and she’ll guarantee that she’d be able to keep you from harm’s reach while being able to bask in all of you.
🧡 ll Further Descent:
Boy, if you thought Anxiety had gone off the deep-end before, she certainly has now. Her days and nights are completely consumed by you. HQ is absolutely covered in drawings and little origami depictions of both you and her (and, while she’d often blush while doing it, she also enjoyed treating them like dolls and making them give little kisses to one another). Interspruced with all of that is her written ramblings, and it felt like that the further you went down in her notes, the more fanatical it became.
Sometimes, she’d have small sparks of self-awareness. Anxiety will clean up HQ and tidy it, all while reminiscing on her love for you. These small moments of clarity will give her twinges of regret and doubt, but she’d push them all in the back of her mind in the end. After all, it’s for the greater good. She’d assure herself that she really was the only person who could truly be able to acknowledge everything about you until that assurance soon became a truth in her eyes. A stone-cold, unrelenting truth.
Meanwhile, you’d become much more nervous, “unstable” in some cases. Nowadays, you feel too apprehensive about going outside, quitting your in-person job in favor of an online or at-home one. Groceries are delivered to your door-step, and appointments you need to go to, like for a check-up or surgery, are done with great reluctance. After, you immediately rush back to the safety of your abode.
When it comes to social interactions, Anxiety also makes sure that, while you’d have friends, they wouldn’t get too close to you. She can’t have them hurting you, physically or emotionally! Though, deep down inside of her, Anxiety does feel a hint of possessiveness towards you, but it mostly comes out as her afraid for your well-being.
Crushes definitely are a no-go. Any attempts on trying to get closer to a love interest you may have is completely out of the question in the eyes of Anxiety. She’ll break the button that makes you feel socially-awkward if she has to.
Anxiety notices soon enough that your feelings of loneliness are increasing rapidly, and attempting to brainstorm an idea where both of you could be happy, a lightbulb goes off in her head.
She goes down to the studio where they produce your dreams, and through some sly convincing and surprising ability to help sway others to what she wants, Anxiety is able to control your dreams with full access. Now, she hopes that her plan will work.
🧡 ll Meeting You in Person:
Well, in-person is in very large quotation marks, but it’s the closest thing she can get to doing such a thing.
After making sure everything was in working order and looked good, Anxiety waited for night to come and for when it was finally time to reveal herself to you. The studio, while it mostly worked with actors, also had the option of summoning your consciousness in a tangible form; how else did you think those falling dreams would cause you to wake up violently right as you hit the ground? Though, Anxiety was using it for a much, much different purpose now.
She sweated bullets while she waited, stimming in both excitement and worry on how you’d react to her. Anxiety suddenly stood still when your eyes finally shut, signifying that it was time to enact her plan.
Pressing various buttons and switches, she grinned as the thing shuttered and spat out smoke before shooting a project of light from the machine’s camera. It morphed, taking form, until you were finally there right in front of Anxiety. You blinked, confused, before turning to the delighted squeak you heard.
You nearly barrelled over as you felt a sudden force of weight being flung right around your torso, and as you looked down through the wild forest of orange hair that somewhat covered your vision, you saw Anxiety tightly wrapped around you in a hug. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and her smile beamed wider as she snuggled into you just a bit more.
“I…I finally get to see you,” you heard her mumble. “I never thought I would, but…here you are! With me!”
You gave her a confused expression, unsure of how to react. “I’m sorry, but, uh, do I know you?”
Anxiety’s eyes snapped open, tears wiped away in a flash, as she glanced up at you and immediately backed off. “O-oh, oh my gosh! I’m so, so sorry; that was so dumb of me, ugh!” She muttered the last part under her breath.
What follows is what you’d expect: she explains to you that she’s your personification of Anxiety, but makes sure to add that she only steps in to prevent you from making possible bad decisions. At least, that’s partially true. Then, she gives you a small tour of the place, deciding to give you a tour of HQ another day (when she doesn’t have your face plastered all over the walls…). After, she insists to you that she’d do anything for you. Figuring that this was all a dream, you simply ask her for some levity from your struggles in reality. In short, you two have fun.
Anxiety is extremely reluctant to allow you to go, but she figures that it would be too suspicious and off-putting if she begged you to stay. When you awake, you just figure that it was some sort of strange lucid dream before going about your day.
So, it surprises you when you see Anxiety again the next night…and the next…and the next…and the next. Around the third time, you realize this is abnormal and start feeling uncomfortable around Anxiety. She notices, and asks you about it. You just wave it off, saying you’re a bit nervous for work tomorrow. Anxiety’s very doubtful, but she goes with it.
However, when she shows up again on the fourth night, you’ve had enough. You’re creeped out with her, and explain to a now very concerned Anxiety that she can’t be real. “I am!” She retorts back. “But-but that isn’t a bad thing! That just means you can talk to me if you have anything troubling you! Please, don’t run! I’m not going to hurt you!”
Even though you did, in fact, run away from her that night, she just showed right back up again the next. What then happened was a repetitive cycle of you running away from Anxiety as she tries to explain her side of the story, waking up, and then going right back to Stage 1. You ask your doctors for a higher dosage of anxiety medication in hopes it would quell what you perceived as delusions. But no matter what you tried, no matter what medicine you took, Anxiety will always be the first thing you “wake” up to.
It had maybe been almost two weeks when you finally relented. Anxiety, however, seemed a bit snarky. “So, have you finally run all out-of-steam? Can I finally get to tell you what’s going on?!”
It took you a few seconds to reply. “...Yeah. Go ahead.”
She let out a sigh of relief, before she explained more on why she’s being so persistent with you. She figured that, since your life wasn’t the best at the moment, Anxiety would help give you some escapism during the night as a relief. While you still felt a bit off-put by one of your emotions continuously showing up in your dreams, and of all of them it’s the Anxiety one, her reasoning did give you some respite. She made sure she didn’t slip that she just really wanted to spend time with you too, though.
It took you a little while to warm up to both the idea and her again, but after some time, you started to enjoy your little adventures with Anxiety. She was funny, sweet, kind, and had all the same interests as you did. She became your best friend, but in Anxiety’s eyes, you two were already in a relationship.
Every time you awoke, she did a little happy dance at the progress being made. Heck, she even had a checklist full of things to make certain you’d fall for her in return. Anxiety was not going to allow herself to destroy your bond together with her. At this point, her whole life really is about you. She loves you so, so much and every day she gets more exhilarated at getting closer to the stage where she’d ask you the question.
Months pass on, and it’s now around the end of the year. She decided to give you a little celebration, convincing the workers below to set off fireworks outside. HQ was decked out in festive decorations, illuminated by the glow of the bright flashes of light outside. When Anxiety sees your gorgeous face lit up by the colors set off from the other side of the window, her heart thumps louder in her chest, almost to an audible level. Her breath is caught in her mouth, but shaking off the stunned reaction she has towards you, Anxiety figures now would be a good time as ever to ask you: do you love her as much as she loves you?
✨🧡 ll Yes:
“Well…ah, it’s a bit weird to be dating one of my emotions…”
Anxiety’s wide-eyed face immediately turns down on itself, pupils shrinking and a frown making itself very well-known on her face. No, no! You can’t-!
“...Ah, why not? Sure!”
I hope you’re stanced up because if not, you will be thrown to the ground in another one of Anxiety’s tight hugs. She keeps on letting out happy squeals, unable to contain her absolute joy at your response. You laugh at how cute she was, returning her hug. She smiles even wider at that.
“I love you, I love you, I love youIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouILOVEYOU!” Anxiety repeated, her tongue twisting near the end making her almost unable to be understood until her final declaration of love. You giggle, and at this her green eyes open up and twinkle at you, a smile spread wider across her face than ever before.
“I love you too.”
While Anxiety never truly does let go of her obsessive tendencies towards you, they do somewhat lax now that she knows you love her back. Her mind sometimes wanders to the other emotions locked up in the Vault, and now on her off-days, she actually goes and visits them, talking to them through the cell. Of course, they’re pissed off at her, but she just can’t stop gushing about you and how much you love her back. Anxiety is too lovestruck to notice the gagging coming from Ennui, Anger, and Disgust inside whenever she goes on another long spiel about how your kisses feel or the flower you gave to her the other day.
Speaking of gifts, while she loves to talk to you about your interests and hyperfixations, Anxiety’s personal go-to love language will always be presents. Whatever you want, she’ll make it happen in the dream.
If you had a bad day too, Anxiety will do double-duty to make sure you wake up feeling ten times better than what you felt like going to bed!
As you grow older, Anxiety reflects back on how when you pass away, so will all of them. But while she still frets over it, there’s also the reassuring thought that she may be a human in the next life alongside you. So, instead of being inside your head, Anxiety will get to live out in the real-world right beside you. But as long as she’s with you, any future is great to her.
Overall, Anxiety feels like a weight that’s been on her since her very inception has finally been lifted. She’s much more relaxed and allows you to go out more as long as you don’t cheat on her. Thankfully, you never do, and she couldn’t be more than grateful.
Life was finally good for her, and she couldn’t be any happier.
💔 ll No:
You smiled awkwardly down at her, the tension in the room suddenly becoming more palpable to you. “I-uh, what?”
Anxiety’s grin falters. “Do you love me?” She repeats.
Your smile becomes a frown, and so does her’s. “I’m…I’m going to be honest with you, Anxiety. I love being your friend. But if you’re asking if we should date, I just can’t accept.”
Immediately, Anxiety shouts out. “WHY NOT?!” Panic is written all over her face, chest heaving in a faulty attempt to calm herself down.
You flinch back from her, suddenly unsure of what to do. “It’s just-I-I don’t know!” You replied back. “You’re literally an emotion! Something my mind made up! You’re not real!”
Those last words hurt her worse than any knife ever could. “You-you don’t mean that! I know you don’t! We’re supposed to be happy together! I did everything for you! So please just love me! LOVE ME!”
You took a few steps back, unknowingly bumping into an ajar closet. When you turn around, you gape in abject horror.
Thousands of drawings and art crafts of you, reciprocating Anxiety’s adoration, filled your sight. You turned down to a sheet of paper that innocently slid to your feet.
‘I got rid of the others. I hated to, but they’d never be able to understand how I felt towards them. They were in the way. But now, we can be together forever! I can’t wait!’
Oh toaster strudels.
You whip back around to face Anxiety, fear evident on your face. She looked just as stunned as you, her green eyes prickling with tears as she shook her head. “I-I promise,” she tried to explain. “I didn’t think it would ever go this far. But I need you to love me back. I NEED YOU!”
Fast on your feet, you’re barely able to dodge Anxiety’s attempt at grabbing you, and without thinking, you go towards the window. You need to get out of this dream, A.S.A.P.
“NO! DON’T-” Too late.
As you fell, wind sweeping through your hair, you turned to gaze up at the window. The last you saw before you jolted awake was the speck of orange looking out the broken window, crying her eyes out and sobbing to herself.
Afterwards, you refused to fall asleep. You chugged energy drinks, made sure to take your anxiety medication every day, watched horror movies so you felt too scared, turned up your home’s lights, anything to make sure you wouldn’t go to sleep and see Anxiety again.
But in turn, you felt your own anxiety levels rising. You felt an irrational, unstoppable fear of attending to your job, jumped at every little creak in the house, the unexplainable drowsiness present in your fits of worry, you all knew it was the work of Anxiety to get you to go back to sleep and see her again.
Of course, you couldn’t stay awake forever. It happened one day when you did your best to explain to your boss why you haven’t been going to work. Your voice was slurred, giving away your sleepiness, and your boss on the other end worryingly called out to you as both your phone and your body landed on the cold floor.
🧡💔 ll Nice to See You Again:
You woke up on top of a comfortable bed, and while you were coming to, you noticed the rope wrapped tightly around you. A bandana had been wrapped around your mouth as well to make sure you didn’t make a peep.
At the foot of the bed, was Anxiety. She looked much more worn-out, eyebags present and hair an absolute mess. She was fiddling around with a clipboard at first, but as her eyes glanced at you for a moment, she realized you finally came to.
“Oh! Hey, didn’t notice you were awake there!” She ignored the cries of protests coming from you. She laughed, her loss of sanity being noted in her giggles. “I guess you always were a heavy sleeper!” You didn’t laugh back.
She got closer to you, any talk you had with her about personal space thrown out the (now repaired) window. Her eyes were bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept either. “I mean, it makes sense. You were awake for a really long time out there. In fact, you didn’t sleep for four whole days! Can I ask why that is?”
You glared at her. She huffed. “Ooooh, I think I know what it is,” she muttered. “I bet you didn’t want to get nightmares. Well, it’s okay now! Your girlfriend here, Anxiety, will make sure you have only good dreams from now on!” She puffed out her chest. You didn’t know if she was mocking you or genuinely deluded into thinking that was the truth.
You uncomfortably shifted as she crawled to the other side of you, wrapping her arms around your bound form despite your discomfort. “I’ve been so, so alone these past few days. I missed you, I missed you so bad. But now, you’re back! With me! I can’t wait for what adventures you have planned for the both of us.” That final note in her voice, that seemed to almost hiss out, gave you a sense of fear. You were too scared to fight back or even move, just allowing Anxiety to make up four day’s worth of no hugs.
“I promise that I’ll be the best girlfriend you could ever ask for. No other person knows you like I do. Nobody.”
Should I even have to explain to you that your two’s relationship is toxic now? Because it is. Like, hazardous waste-type of toxic.
In her deluded mind, Anxiety fully believes that you just ran through that window because you were scared of the commitment, and that you just responded no to her love request because of the same reason. In time, she thinks she’ll be able to win you over, and considering how you can’t really get rid of her, you’re unfortunately stuck with her.
When you eventually did wake up, you found yourself in a hospital room, alone. At least, physically. You couldn’t help the onslaught of hopeless tears that trickled down your face.
In the background, Anxiety was fiddling with your feelings, not thinking about your own desires on the matter. She smiled, chuckling, when she found what she was looking for, hidden deep within the recesses of your hypothalamus: the control center that managed who you found romantically appealing.
She was smart about it, though. Despite wanting to just crank it all the way up, she gradually made it so you found her more alluring without you even noticing the changes.
You were immensely terrified of her at first, discouraging her, but as she set your romantic feelings towards her higher slowly, Anxiety noticed the change you had in your demeanor.
Eventually, she was comfortable in allowing you to finally be untied (she had undone the makeshift gag a little bit ago), and while she was a bit disappointed at still seeing you be uncomfortable around her and shying away, that just made Anxiety more determined to get you to fall in love with her.
Was doing all of this morally wrong and cementing her fully into the deep-end? Yes.
But did she truly care about that currently? No.
She can think about the moral dilemma years down the line when you two are fully reciprocating love towards one another.
Anxiety accidentally let out an excited snort at you finally hugging her once again. She clasped her hands over her mouth, blushing right after. You found it to be…weirdly cute.
Eventually, your romantic feelings were almost at 100%. As time passed on, your life became better as you started to reflect that same strange comforting feeling Anxiety felt towards you.
You felt inclined to question why you were getting these emotions for your mental stalker, but any attempt to further examine this is usually quashed thanks to Anxiety’s interference. Soon, you don’t even get these questions anymore. They just feel like they come naturally to you.
Those same reactions Anxiety had towards you were now being felt by you, except obviously with her. Shy gazes at her cute orange hair before looking away when she goes to return your look, fully enraptured in her kind voice and nodding along to whatever she said, blushing whenever you were complimented by her, the list goes on.
The fact that she did awful things almost seems to become a distant memory to you, until much later on, it becomes completely forgotten in your eyes.
Eventually, it came to a head. One night, when the two of you were alone, you tapped her on the shoulder. You smiled at her, blush clearly evident on your face as you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck.
“H-hey, uh, Anxiety? Can I ask you something kinda’...important? Promise not to freak out or anything, okay?”
Anxiety nodded violently. “Yeah!! Yeah, tell me anything!” She leaned in closer, eyes trained fully on you. Her hands were rolled up into fists, vibrating slightly in barely-disguised eagerness. After a bit of stammering, you finally were able to lock eyes with each other.
“Do you, um…want to go out with me-?”
“YES!! YES!!!” Anxiety jumped to respond, flapping her hands happily as she raced around the room. You laughed, before abruptly getting stopped by the kiss that Anxiety had placed on your lips. Both of you looked stunned for only a brief moment, before you happily returned it.
If emotions had brains, Anxiety was sure it short-circuited at that moment.
Finally relinquishing, you stepped back, only to lunge forward when you caught her about to fall right on her back.
“Woah, Anxiety, are you okay?” You chuckled. Anxiety looked up at you with a tired, but completely and utterly smitten look on her face.
“Never been better.”
Things were definitely better now. Much like if you said yes to her original proposal, she gives you more freedom in exchange for always being beside her when you’re dreaming. You happily accept, none the wiser of the manipulation Anxiety pulled to get to this moment.
She sometimes reflects on her actions, knowing full-well what she did was completely, morally-reprehensible. But at a certain point, Anxiety just sighs and puts it into the very back of her brain.
Yes, what she did was absolutely wrong. But, when she looks at you, finally head-over-heels for her as much as she is with you, Anxiety really can’t help but smile.
“I really am sorry, guys, but it was all worth it in the end.”
So here we are, finally the first part of this story. The prompt was simple paired in a therapy program and the first that came to my mind was Bucky (since the hyperfixation came back) and yes the title is an Hozier song.
Hope you like it <3 (thanks to the awesome beta @green-binder as well )
This fic is also on Ao3 and Wattpad
Nobody's Soldier playlist
CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, nightmares, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning himself), trauma, trauma bonding, unexpected feelings, slight obsession, anxiety, denial, manipulation, reader has female pronous.
(Not much major warnings in this, next one will be a bit heavier)
____________
Ch. 1 - Paralyzed
"A what now?" Bucky asked his therapist with furrowed brows, visibly in confusion.
"It's a therapy companion program. I think it would be good for you.." Doctor Raynor said bluntly, leaning back in her chair but looking at him with a stern expression. ”…You need to talk to people."
Bucky glares quietly at her then, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't need this.
"Who… the hell anyway...?" he started but suddenly stopped when he heard another voice coming from the doorway.
"Hello Doctor..." you said, standing in the doorway with a bright smile on your face, arriving early as you always did.
You did this before, this program, you were involved from the very beginning and you had already been paired with four people already. Three of them were living their best lives, with little to no problems, but one was still in the program yet away from you, as he had accidentally developed feelings. Safe to say, that time didn't end well.
You hoped this one would be, at least, nice.
As soon as the doctor invited you in, you moved closer, greeting them politely again as soon as you sat down, but he didn't take your hand in return.
You shrugged a little at that, you knew that people could come off as rude with new people around, especially in places like these, and there was nothing wrong with that.
Right after you greeted him, to no answer, Bucky glanced at you the moment you looked away as you listened to whatever the doctor was saying, looking you up and down once, while having mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.
It wasn’t as if he disliked you immediately, he didn't even know you. But the thought of being paired with someone he'd never met made his blood boil with annoyance before even starting.
The sole idea of talking to a stranger, of opening up to them… He was uncomfortable enough with his therapist, how bad would it be with you?
On the other hand, you completely missed the look of annoyance he had on his face, looking at you uncertainly while you listened to the doctor.
You had and still have your fair share of traumas, but as some kind of coping mechanism, you hid it fairly well, something your own doctor was still trying to fix. As a result, you were exceptionally good with others, listening to them and even helping them to start believing in themselves. All the things you didn’t have, not from the people you wanted to.
Then Bucky let out a silent sigh, turning to look out the window completely uninterested in the whole situation as he focused on the cars driving past the building instead.
He didn't have to talk about anything he didn't want to, he thought, scoffing slightly in his mind.
Although, with the therapist watching, he knew he'd have to be civil. He glances back at you before looking back out the window.
"You don't need to be here," he says bluntly then, keeping his eyes focused outside.
"Excuse me?" both you and the doctor turned to him, and you frowned while the therapist explained to him for the nth time why he needed to do this.
You weren't hurt by his words, per se, it was the reaction everyone had, especially with a program like this one, so you were used to it. You shrugged and looked away while he argued with his doctor.
It’s true, you didn’t need to be there, you were well aware of that. Your gaze focused on your lap, and you started fidgeting nervously with your sleeve, pulling at an invisible thread on your sweater.
"I don't need a damn babysitter…" he scoffed, leaning back in his seat before his eyes darted over to you, looking you up and down as his eyes narrowed in silent disapproval.
“James, don’t start… I already explained why…” Doctor Raynor repeated, visibly annoyed as the frown on her face deepened.
At that he sighed in annoyance, the idea of this program pissed him off. Being seen as weak and in need of someone to watch over him was enough to drive him up the wall.
He didn't need anyone to take care of him. He was a former trained assassin for God's sake.
At that, you looked back with the most unreadable expression on your face and just gently smiled. Then with one last look at the doctor, you spoke up again.
"I'm well aware and I don't pretend to know anything you're going through..." you said, your tone calm yet firm, standing up right after.
"Look… Bucky? Bucky, right…?" you quickly asked before continuing…”.. we've all been there more or less so I'm not forcing you to do anything, really.”
But before leaving, you pulled something from your pocket, giving it to him.
"This is my number if you ever need anything or someone to stay silent with…up to you," you added, in a much more gentle tone.
After that you walked away but not before saying goodbye to the doctor with a smile back on your face.
Bucky didn't like the way you smiled at him. It was like you saw something he couldn’t and he didn't like not knowing things.
His brows furrowed as he watched you get up. He sat there in slight shock as you spoke.
Why were you being this damn civil with him? Didn't you want to know more? Demand answers? Knowing who he really was? All that and more pissed him off and yet intrigued him at the same time, a million thoughts starting to run around his head.
His frown deepened as you suddenly handed him a small piece of paper. He stared at it a moment before looking up and seeing you walk away. He had no intention of using that damn thing.
One week later, to the day, your phone rang.
After the little misunderstanding both of you had in the therapist's office, your life kept on going like it always did, waking up, going to work, eating… when you remembered to… having a breakdown or two, and trying to manage your anxiety. Normal stuff, just everyday things.
Not that you expected anyone to actually call you but, as you always did, when your phone rang even in the middle of the night, you answered.
This time when you picked up, it was only one sentence.
"I had a nightmare..."
Bucky's voice was quiet over the phone. He was sitting on the floor, covered only by a thin blanket, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself.
Every nightmare always felt so real, so damn vivid. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. Still feel the ghosts of hands, tearing him apart.
How long had it been since a nightmare hadn't woken him up screaming? He should be used to this by now.
"What do you need me to do?" was the only thing you said to him after that, voice gentle and quiet, partly from sleep.
And then you waited in silence. For him to just calm down over the phone or start talking, whatever he needed from you or didn't, you would help him, no matter how bad your first impression was.
Bucky stayed silent for a moment longer as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes closed tight as he focused on the sound of your voice.
Calm down. Just. Calm. Down. He kept repeating this in his mind. He didn't want to feel like this. He hated feeling like this. Anxious, terrified. Weak.
"Just..." his voice was quiet, wavering slightly. "Don't hang up.”
"I won't..." you promptly replied, your voice still soft as you sat up on the bed, hearing him trying to control his breath.
It wasn't the first time this happened with a therapy companion, it was honestly quite common, you had been there before.
So you stayed, silence falling over you both as he calmed down, occasionally with your reassurance that everything was alright, spoken gently.
After that night, you didn’t hear from him until a month later, except for a few texts he sent went he felt like he was slipping out again, but no nightmares, or at least that's what he told you.
The more you talked, the more you felt like he was starting to open up.
The next time he did call you again, he was a complete mess.
Bucky was breathing heavily once again, sweating profusely, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at nothing. He knew where he was. He knew the past was just in his head. But God did it feel so real.
"I-I can't... I can't breathe." He muttered, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes as his shoulders began to shake.
"Bucky..." you started quietly as you sat on your couch, listening as he almost choked on his own breath.
But he wasn't listening, his breath was heavy, as if he was about to pass out. You knew too well what it was and how disruptive it could be. Still, it was all in his head.
"James..." you tried again, more assertive but still calm "..what can I do for you?"
Sometimes saying out their full name during a panic attack would shock them out of it, sometimes not. But you had to try, hoping this time it would work.
Bucky froze for a moment as if hearing his name was enough of a shock to freeze him in his tracks. He was breathing fast, almost panting, he was struggling to speak, to process his thoughts. It was minutes until his eyes finally refocused, looking around frantically as he realised where he was.
He was in his apartment. In his bed. Safe.
The realization was enough to make his breath hitch, a choked sob escaping his lips. It took him a couple of moments to respond, his voice sounding shaky and pained.
"I-I-" He tried, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"It's fine..." you whispered, heart still clenching at hearing his soft sobs and how he was still struggling to speak.
You weren't a therapist, you couldn't be that distant with the people you were paired with, so the pang in your stomach was real.
Was it empathy? Or did you just know what it feels like? Either way, you gave all of yourself to help when needed.
"I can be on the phone all night if that’s what you need..." you added, a tinge of a smile on your lips.
You wanted him to know you were there for him.
Bucky closed his eyes tightly as he tried to stop the tears from falling.
He felt humiliated. Weak. For calling you when he should have been able to handle this on his own. It was just a nightmare.
He was a grown man, he fought in a war, he wasn’t some pathetic child who couldn't handle a nightmare.
But your voice was so damn calm and gentle. Telling him everything would be ok. That you'd stay. It calmed him slightly, but the shame was still there.
"You… don't have to… stay up for me." He muttered quietly, voice choking up still.
"You're not alone in this..." you replied, reassuring him once more.
These same words were the same your therapist told you the first session you had and they stuck in your head since then, helping and easing the process.
"No one should be alone in this, Bucky..." you added, your tone gentle and light as you stood up and headed to the kitchen.
"It hurts, I can tell you this much, it's not going to be easy… but it will get better" you went on, while you prepared yourself for bed.
You didn't know how long you'll be on the phone so you prepared yourself for a long night.
Bucky listened quietly, to the sound of you moving around on the other end, to your words.
He didn't understand how you stayed so calm. How even after his rude comment that first time, you still spoke to him so kindly.
"How… how do you not get angry...?" He asks suddenly, his voice hoarse. "How do you stay so damn calm?”
You laughed quietly at his question, as you pulled a book from your stash on the bedside table.
"Who said I don't?" you replied still amused by his assumption.”…I do get angry, very much so..." you added.
"With time and age, I just learned to let go of many things, it still hurts sometimes, but there's nothing I can do.”
Bucky was a little surprised when you let out a small laugh. It wasn't what he expected from you. He was actually expecting some kind of lecture, something about meditation or some other crap like that. He was so used to the lectures from his therapist and doctors.
But you were honest. You got angry. You let go of things.
Then he was silent for a moment, your blunt honesty taking him off guard.
"Doesn't it get tiring? Being so… calm all the time?” He asked, genuinely curious as he felt himself breathing regularly now, his body slightly relaxing.
At that you sighed. Still, the smile never left your lips.
"Very much so… but..." you replied after a moment, trying to find the best way to explain this.
"It gets more tiring to be mad all the time..." you said honestly as you now lay on the bed, on one side.
"I still cry, I get panic attacks… and I zone out a lot…" you stated, recalling all the times you still found yourself alone with your breath caught in your throat, legs pulled against your chest.
"Like I said, it gets better, not perfect…”
Bucky was a little startled by your honesty. How bluntly you spoke about your own struggles just to help him out. He knew very well how difficult it was. How frustrating it was to struggle with his past. How much it hurt.
But hearing you talk so casually about your panic attacks and crying was… odd, in a way.
He was used to hiding his struggles and pretending everything was fine, he thought it was normal.
Then he let out a huffed sigh.
"How long does it take, usually?” he asked, deep down already knowing the answer.
"For things to get better?" you asked honestly, a little surprised by that kind of question from him. Of course, it was a rhetorical question, getting better didn’t have a set date, everyone and everything was different when it came to mental health.
"A long time." you then replied, not wanting to sugarcoat anything for him right now.
That's what you did usually, tell them how it was and how you got there. People in the same situation as yourself were mostly tired of unnecessary bits of advice that led to nothing.
"A lot of time and therapy sessions..." you added almost laughing like it was something funny. "... your brain won't be the same though, the trauma is stuck in your head”
Bucky huffed quietly, laying back against his pillows while he listened to you.
He expected some type of halfhearted reassurance. Some shallow statement about how he'll heal and move past everything.
But you didn't do that. You kept your statements blunt and straight to the point. You spoke about your own experiences easily.
You weren't like his therapist. And this was far off a therapy session.
"So… my brain will never go back to normal…" He mutters quietly, not like a question but like a realization.
You lightly chuckled on the other end.
You expected this kind of reaction, usually that's what happened. You did it too the first time you were told about this. But you eventually accepted it, on most days.
"Your brain is normal, Bucky..." you spoke again, softly this time." ...you still think, talk, laugh and cry… that's normal."
That's what you think about yourself too, when your intrusive thoughts weren’t winning the battle. You were still functional, but living in a world that hadn't been kind to you at all.
"Just with a little spice…” you added playfully.
Bucky listened quietly, his eyes closed as he tried to keep his breathing even still.
He still didn't understand how you could speak so nonchalantly.
Just a little spice? He repeated your last sentence in his head, trying to convince himself.
He thought about it for a moment longer. His mind was still messed up but he was still capable of all those things. It was a simple concept but it eased his mind a little, at least for now.
"Are you just gonna keep talking until I fall asleep?" He huffed then, trying to keep his voice distant now that he had recovered.
"If you want me to..." you only replied, maybe a little more sweetly than you intended to.
But you felt responsible somehow, few times had you seen someone so broken yet so stubborn with himself and others that you genuinely wanted to help.
"I could read to you, It doesn't bother me at all..." you suggested, fully expecting him to scoff at that as he was still trying to push you away.
Bucky stayed quiet for a moment. He didn't want to admit but the sound of your voice was soothing somehow.
Normally, he would try to keep himself awake. Stare up at the ceiling until he was so tired, he passed out from exhaustion.
But now, laying in his bed listening to the sound of your voice, he found that he was tired. Not in a tired-from-exhaustion kind of way, but tired in an I-could-fall-asleep kind of way.
"Fine.” he only answered.
"Alright..." you only said, almost smiling at his reaction.
You could see all the signs, the reluctance, the way he avoided showing himself truly or how he still bit back. He didn't trust you and it was fine, you were still a stranger.
You ended up reading him a novel, one that told about a knight in shining armour, until he fell asleep.
The next morning you found yourself with your phone next to you, your reading glasses still on and the call ended a long time ago.
Bucky woke up in the morning slightly confused.
Looking around his darkened room, it took him a good minute or two to finally remember last night. He must have passed out during your call as he found his phone still in his hand, a glance at the time telling him it was nearly noon.
Maybe you hung up as soon as you realised he had fallen asleep.
He wondered if the previous night had all been some kind of very weird fever dream. But his phone still showed the call log. It had actually happened.
After waking up rather late you decided to work from home, luckily for you, it was possible with what you did, being between jobs had some benefits after all.
You felt very sleepy still since you spent most of the night reading until you heard the call ending itself, so your day was slow and rather calm.
While, for once, thinking about yourself, your mind kept replaying what happened last night. How you heard Bucky cry, how his words stuttered and, after he calmed down, the questions that followed.
Then the reticence.
Later that day, right in the afternoon, you shoot him a message anyway.
-to Bucky: you ok?
You didn't expect a reply, you were well aware of how he still tried to be distant.
And like he said the first time, you weren't his babysitter and he was a full-grown man, so it was up to him if he still wanted help.
On the other end, Bucky nearly dropped his phone when the screen lit up with your message.
He was still very much surprised that you were checking up on him.
Why?
He stared at the message for a good few minutes, debating on what he should say or not.
No, he wasn't ok. He was still shaken up from the nightmare he had. He was still frustrated with himself for not handling it alone.
But he wouldn't exactly tell you any of that so he tried to come up with a reply, but it took him about an hour.
-From Bucky: I'm fine.
When the actual reply arrived, you couldn't hold back a laugh.
He was still so stubborn even after you heard him almost crying that his coldness now felt...different.
-to Bucky: I don't believe that, but alright :)
You went up with your usual day after that, busy with some more work while planning your next therapy session that was coming soon.
Bucky huffed quietly after receiving your reply, his eye twitching slightly. He was surprised that you didn't believe him that he was fine.
But then again, you had heard what happened last night. You had heard him struggling to breathe. You had heard him nearly cry over the phone.
How stupid he was to think he could convince you he was fine.
He tried to put the phone down, but he found himself picking it up again and staring at the screen.
You just... Didn’t give up, did you? he thought, asking himself something he couldn’t reply to.
How expected, Bucky didn't reply further and that was fine with you. But deep down, to be completely honest, you started to kind of worry about him, to kind of care...
After a week, when you hadn't heard from him and had yet another session that felt hard, everything came crashing down.
At first, you were your usual happy self, telling your doctor about this therapy companion thing and what happened, minus the details.
But once you got home, you felt it, sneaky as it always was, another panic attack that slowly started to build up.
You spent months without one this strong but with the news in your life and the progress you made with therapy, it was strange that it didn't show up sooner.
Now flashbacks of past memories and people playing in front of you, still sitting on the bathroom floor with your legs tight against your chest and your phone next to you… on silent.
When Bucky called this time, you didn’t answer.
Bucky had been ignoring the constant feeling of guilt deep in his stomach. You had helped him, saved him from that nightmare and the panic attack that followed, and his way of repaying you for that kindness was acting cold and distant?
He couldn’t tell if you were worried about him or just nice but you were still trying to help him somehow.
But he was too stubborn to admit he needed someone right now, to admit he needed you.
So it was only right that he couldn't reach you when he finally picked up that damn phone.
Sitting in his living room, now staring down at his phone, Bucky tried to call you again and again, but like the other calls he already made, he was sent to voicemail. Not even an answer in text.
Dread started to fill him, his mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario.
Did something happen? Why aren't you picking up? Did you put your phone on silent? Why?
You pulled through yet again, not without your fair share of tears and so much pain, but you did. Still, your body felt numb and sore, sitting in the same position for hours, your mouth dry and your eyes burning.
You were a complete mess, but your breathing was now finally steady.
Still, you haven't checked your phone and honestly, it was one of your last thoughts as of now.
You didn't know the time either, as your brain was still scattered and clouded even after the shower you took just to feel something.
So when you finally picked it up, your eyes went wide and you almost cried again.
4 missed calls from Bucky
1 text from Bucky
Guilt and fear started silently spreading inside you all over again. You couldn't do this now, it felt like betrayal but you couldn't.
Bucky sat in his living room, his body stiff and filled with fear.
He had called you about 4 times now. Each time, he was met with a voice-mail.
What the hell was going on?
He was tempted to do something, maybe find out where you lived and go check on you. But he forced himself to calm down, trying to convince himself to not overreact.
You probably had your phone on silent. You probably didn't hear it. You probably were fine.
When you were about to lay in bed and have some sleep, you received another call and for a moment you were tempted to answer, but you didn’t. Instead, you placed your phone on the bedside table and got under the covers.
But when you were about to drift off, your eyes about to close you picked up your phone again and decided to, at least, read the message.
-from Bucky: what happened?
If you weren't so tired you would have laughed about it, about the worry that seeped from a single message, but even your face felt heavy.
So you just typed a quick answer.
-to Bucky: wasn't feeling myself, I'm sorry...we can chat tomorrow.
And with that, you fell asleep, exhausted and aching with your phone still in your hand.
Bucky read your message over and over again while he lay in his bed. He was still worried but the knot in his stomach started to lessen slightly. He felt like a fool for being so dramatic.
Of course, you were just having an off day. Off days happened, especially for people like the two of you. He was just overreacting.
He decided to send you one last text, unable to help himself.
-From Bucky: call me if you need me.
With that, he sat his phone on his bedside table and closed his eyes.
The answer to Bucky's text only arrived at the end of the next day since sleeping past your alarm had made you arrive late for a work appointment.
In other words, your day was a bit hectic.
Then you helped your neighbour on your way back home.
And when finally you were sitting on the couch, in your comfortable clothes, the tv didn't turn on. So you had to call the landlord then.
You were tired, frustrated even and not really in your best behaviour. Still, you owed Bucky an answer.
-to Bucky: did you sleep last night? Saw you were a bit worried. Anyway not my best day but I'm better. Ps: do you happen to know how to fix a tv?
Bucky read over your message, his lips twitching into an involuntary small smile.
Not your best day.
He could tell from the way you wrote the message that you were a little bit frustrated with how your day had gone but still tried to stay positive. It was… cute.
He quickly typed out a response, ignoring the strange feeling inside his chest as he sent it.
-From Bucky: I slept alright. And how do you manage to screw up a damn tv?
-to Bucky: how dare you! I was out all day and it was already like this, called the landlord but he said there's nothing he could do :(
You typed out almost too quickly, but then you were distracted, only to finish your text minutes later.
-to Bucky: sorry my neighbour needed something… anyways I’m happy to hear you slept some, at least.
You were so focused on the broken tv, and your neighbour moving out that you didn’t tell him about the episode that happened last night. That made you feel rather guilty, you were paired for that specific reason and while you were all about helping him, you just refused to let others help you when the same thing happened.
Bucky was beginning to pick up on your behaviour, about you only talking about your struggles when you wanted to be helpful but not when you needed it. You had talked him through a panic attack but never said anything about why you were still in therapy.
At that, a feeling of determination welled up inside of him as he read over your message.
He was going to find out what was going on with you, one way or another. Shocking even himself with that very thought. e quickly typed out a reply.
-From Bucky: Your landlord sounds like a douche. Maybe I could take a look at it for you.
His next message made you stop in your tracks as you crossed the room and went to the kitchen.
The other times you were paired up, it was always by calls and texts as the other were too scared to even go out, so this was kind of unexpected. With the way he had acted when you both first met and how he still tried to, this was kind of a shock.
But then, when you didn’t answer right away, another text arrived, pulling a slight smile out of you, now that he was acting worried.
-from Bucky: so?
-to Bucky: won't hurt, can send u my address, warn me when you do though.
Bucky tried to keep his heart from beating so damn fast. It was a dumb offer, a stupid thought he had, but you had accepted nonetheless. So he wasn’t sure why he felt… nervous?
He told himself it was because he was worried about you, worried that you might have been struggling like he was. But a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was because he…
No!... not going there.
He stopped himself from thinking more about it, quickly replying to you.
-From Bucky: Yeah, send me the address. I’ll be there in thirty.
I'll be there in thirty. Well that was quick, you told yourself as you read his last message, totally not expecting this sudden change of heart as a strange feeling of happiness started brewing inside you but, at the same time, you were scared.
Not because Bucky was a bad person, you were sure he had too much good in him, but for the fact that someone would actually want to come over.
This was new.
And while you were overthinking this, trying to tidy up your messy apartment as best as you could, minutes passed and suddenly someone had knocked at your door.
Bucky stood in front of your apartment, his hand raised to knock. He was starting to feel a bit dumb.
It was a stupid idea. Why did he offer to come over? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
But his mind was filled with worry, his heart racing as he continued to stand in front of your door like some kind of idiot.
He finally forced himself to knock, even if the knocking came off a bit too loudly because of his nervousness.
As soon as you opened the door your breath hitched a little. He was standing there, wearing just a pair of black jeans, a leather jacket with a dark blue jersey underneath, and…gloves?
When did he get so tall and… no, not the right time, as you took in the unreadable expression he had on his face.
But then you quickly reminded yourself that the only time you both saw each other was in his doctor's office.
"Hi stranger..." you said, after a few seconds of internal battle within your brain.."...were you worried about me perhaps?" you joked, awkwardly and only to hide your embarrassment.
But as he looked down at you, you realized you were still in his way and stepped aside enough to let him pass.
The first impression he had of you was bad, and the second? Well, maybe now he considered you an idiot.
Bucky stood stiffly in front of you, almost towering over you as he looked down to meet your gaze.
Damn, you were tiny. He hadn’t noticed that before, just now realizing just how much smaller you were than him.
As he stepped in, he tried to keep the cold look on his face, but it was hard to keep his eyes from roaming over you, taking in your messy sweatpants and oversized shirt. Cute, he caught himself thinking.
"Maybe a little bit..." he muttered grudgingly, walking inside your apartment.
“Oh…” you said quietly as he walked in, surprised by his answer.
Then you saw him looking around as if he was searching for something, making you even more confused.
Then it hit you… his doctor told you he was a former military.
"It's just… just an old tv..." you tried, not really knowing why you stuttered at first as you followed him into your living room.
Bucky kept his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked around your living room, eyes roaming over every corner in search of any potential threats. An old habit of his from his time on the front lines.
When he spotted the television, his eyes narrowed slightly, only shedding off his jacket and remaining with just a long-sleeved shirt on.
A damn old tv, maybe older than him.
"How old is it?" he asked while he kneeled down in front of it, his fingers already picking at the back of the machine.
It took a little to answer his question, still stunned by the fact that he was really in your apartment.
The same guy that couldn't stand you the first time he saw you.
"Very… I mean..." you replied, then quickly correcting yourself."...I don't know really, bought it used."
You confessed, cheeks slightly flushing as if you were ashamed by that. You didn't have much on your own and therapy was damn expensive, after all.
As he worked, you tried not to bother him much, staying away as much as possible and sitting quietly on the couch.
Bucky hummed quietly while you spoke, his mind racing with questions.
How old could this tv be? And just how much did it cost you?
But he held his tongue, not wanting to risk upsetting you with his questions.
As he continued to inspect the old device, still he noticed how he could practically sense you trying to distance yourself from him and not bothering him much.
So he held back the urge to look at you, trying to focus on the old machine instead.
Why were you being too damn polite? Why were you so damn far away?
As you tried to focus, still not very much into yourself after a whole day of unexpected setbacks, the bell rang making you jump a little, startling Bucky as well.
But before he could say anything, you went to check, only to realize it was just your neighbour again as soon as you opened the door.
And while you talked, you didn’t notice that her voice was so loud that it could be heard even inside your apartment, as you both were at the door and away from the living room, so much that made Bucky curious about what was happening.
Bucky paused in his work on the tv as he heard the bell ring, his head turning to look towards you as you walked out of the room.
He kept working, the sound of your voices filtering faintly into the living room.
He wasn't trying to listen in your conversation but the more you and your neighbour talked, the more Bucky found himself subconsciously trying to make out what was being said.
He started to feel like a creep, listening to your private conversation like this. But he couldn't help it, the curiosity was eating away at him and...
The more he listened, the more he realised that something was off.
He slowly rose up from his kneeled position and turned to face the entrance as the voices got slightly louder.
When you finally closed the door with a loud sigh and turned to come back to the other room, you almost jumped as you found him there, standing near the entrance, with a deep frown on his face.
"Jesus..." you gasped, a hand on your chest.”...scared the hell out of me."
"You good? ...did something happen?" you then added as he kept looking between you and the front door.
Bucky kept his face stoic, his mind racing as his eyes roamed over you.
He was about to ask you about the neighbour, about your conversation. It was none of his business but… he just couldn’t stop himself.
"What the hell was that about?" he asked, gesturing toward the door.
It was your turn to frown, as soon as the words left Bucky's mouth you got confused.
How the hell did he...? you thought, crossing both your arms over your chest.
You were tired, still bothered by the remnants of your previous episode and on the verge of a breakdown. You couldn't handle this now.
"Listen, I'm going to be as polite as I can right now..." you started, your tone calm but with a slight edge.
"That's none of your fucking business."
And as soon as you said that, not giving him time to reply or do anything, you stormed off and locked yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the floor as soon as you were in.
Bucky was stunned for a moment, completely taken aback by your reaction. He had been rude, pushing a personal question out of the blue.
He hadn't really meant it, he was just worried about you. But now he realized he had gone too far, overstepping a boundary.
God damn it, he was a moron.
He felt panic well up inside him as you stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you, the sound of the lock flicking in place echoing in the apartment.
Bucky stood frozen still, the silence from the other side of the door deafening.
Was he supposed to wait there? Should he knock? Leave? He didn't know what to do.
He ran his hand through his hair, feeling completely lost.
He couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone, not while you were clearly upset, so after a few moments standing there awkwardly, he gently knocked on the door.
You missed the first knock, too lost in your mind yet again, trying to calm your breathing the way your therapist told you many times.
Everything seemed to shatter into tiny pieces, even the smallest things now becoming bigger problems.
You just couldn't, while you kept repeating, more like murmuring to yourself...
I'm sorry...
can't do this anymore...
please shut up
Your brain felt like it was on fire, hurting you more than you could imagine.
Bucky's worry grew as he heard your voice quietly talking to yourself through the door.
He felt like an idiot for overstepping, causing you to feel like this. And now you were locked away from him, alone and struggling.
With a knot in his stomach, he once again knocked on the door. He hated asking but…
"Can I come in?..." he called quietly, placing his forehead against the door.
You were on the verge of crying, but for a moment your brain refocused and you heard knocking as well as Bucky's voice.
He was still here? Why?
Deep down you knew this time you couldn't do it alone, that you had to talk this out but it was like your body was trapped on the spot.
When Bucky started to beg, behind the still-closed door, you felt a heavy sense of guilt washing over you, standing up right after but barely balancing on your feet.
Then you unlocked the door before you hunched over the sink, hands gripping the surface while your breath felt ragged.
Bucky was almost surprised you opened up the door, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He had never expected to see you this vulnerable.
He really was an idiot for causing you this much anguish.
He slowly stepped into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind himself.
"Hey..." he started, not really knowing what to say.
He stepped closer behind you, not daring to touch you, his heart aching again as he saw you hunched over the sink.
When you heard the faint footsteps and Bucky's voice so gentle, you raised your head slightly, the first tears were already running down your face and you only wanted to scream, but you swallowed it.
Instead, it happened in a blur, you turned around and hugged him tight, burying your face into his shirt and leaving him stunned.
You were weak, felt worse than ever and clearly in need of help.
Bucky’s heart stopped as you suddenly turned around and hugged him.
He had barely been able to register what was happening, but now he froze when he felt you against him.
His arms hovered in the air at first, not knowing what to do, but the sound of muffled sobs coming from you snapped him back into reality as if suddenly his brain and body started moving again.
So he quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leaned down and gently rested his chin on the top of your head.
You didn't know how much time had passed, hell you didn’t know what time it was as it felt like everything stopped when panic started gnawing at you again.
Your head was still spinning as your fingers dug tighter into the fabric of Bucky's shirt.
And while your breath was uneven and it seemed like you couldn't hold back the tears, you felt guilt.
Guilt of putting him into this situation. Guilt of embarrassing him so much.
"Not… not your fault.." you tried, as soon as you felt his hands on your back."...I'm sorry, I was already a mess..." your voice was muffled and broken, your brain still struggling to form a coherent thought on its own.
Bucky felt his heart twist in his chest as he listened to your broken voice.
He kept his chin on your head, listening to you speak.
"What are you apologizing for?" he asked gently, rubbing his palm up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.
"I’m at fault here, it's my fault you’re upset," he said quietly, silently scolding himself for being so damn nosy and rude.
"I was..." you croaked out then.."I had… an episode last night..." forcing your words out to explain yourself.
You were aware he probably sensed something was off when you didn’t return his calls and now you were facing the consequences of your actions.
He was your therapy companion, for God's sake you mentally scolded yourself seconds after, your brain still feeling heavy.
"I thought I was getting better..."
Bucky was slowly piecing everything together, the picture becoming clearer as you continued. He felt another wave of guilt crash over him, a cold feeling forming in his stomach.
That's why you didn’t pick up last night, that’s why you’ve been so distant.
And he had come over, intruding on your life like an idiot, making it all worse. He held you a little tighter, gently pulling you closer against his chest.
"You are getting better..." he mumbled against your hair.
You actually sob at his words and the way he was now holding you. It felt good, safe and everything you hadn't felt in ages. And that scared you shitless.
"Stealing my words here..." you said, even if your voice was broken, trying to joke as your brain started refocusing itself slowly.
You wouldn't admit it to him or anyone except your therapist, but funnily enough the proximity and the contact helped ground you and not let your intrusive thoughts win.
Even if your major trauma stemmed from touch itself.
And he was indeed helping you now.
Bucky let out a small huff; somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. Maybe stealing your words wasn't that bad, you sounded better after all.
He felt the tension that had been present in your body slowly drain away as he continued to hold you, his hand rubbing small circles on your back.
It shouldn’t feel this good to hold you, and even less feel this protective over you.
He ignored the thought for now, gently pulling you closer to his chest.
"Do you want to talk about it…?" he mumbled quietly.
A soft broken sigh left your lips right after his question, relief quickly washing over your body as Bucky kept on silently comforting you.
You're safe. It's ok, were the thoughts that now replaced the pain in your brain, keeping you sane.
At his question, you just nodded yes, still you didn’t move an inch from where you were, body still aching, too convinced that if you let go you'd fall to the floor.
Bucky felt some of the tension drain from his own shoulders as well as you settled against his chest, the sight of you relaxing against him making his heart feel warmer.
He continued to hold you against him for a few more moments, his hand still rubbing at your back in calming circles.
But then, he did something he shouldn’t have.
He gently placed a light kiss on the top of your head, an intimate gesture of comfort.
You felt good, calmer even but when you felt the press of lips on top of your head and his breath ghosting in your hair you froze.
This wasn't right, this shouldn’t be happening… this...
You thought, as your breath hitched slightly while you pulled away, still very much shocked as you looked up at him.
"What..? Did you..?”
Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat when you suddenly pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of your body against his. And when you looked up at him, a mixture of shock and confusion in your eyes, his heart sank.
It was then that he realized what he had just done.
His heart still hammering against his chest as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering out the first words he could think of.
"I don’t-... I don’t know what came over me-... I'm sorry-” he tried.
You took another step back, your eyes never leaving Bucky's face, watching him as he just realized what he had done.
You didn't want to be mean, to mock him or anything but this wasn't right.
"... I... listen..." you started, voice wavering a little…" we're just…in a program together… there's… there's nothing-"
Then you stumbled a little, both your hand went to grip the sink behind you to keep you upright. Still, you felt confused, mind clouded as a strange feeling grew inside you.
Bucky felt his heart ache at your words. He knew you were right, of course, you were right.
But in that moment, the realization dawned on him, the realization that he liked you. He wanted you and the thought scared the hell out of him.
He quickly reached out and gently grabbed your elbow to help keep you steady when you stumbled.
He didn’t speak for a moment, a lump in his throat as he cursed himself silently, the fear of losing whatever you both had taking over him.
You flinched out of instinct when you felt his hand touching you again.
This wasn't on purpose, you weren't scared of him but… What if he wanted more? What if he took advantage of your weak state?
That's why you were fine to keep all therapy partners distant, communicating only when needed and not meeting with any of them.
This was wrong, this shouldn’t have happened, you needed to heal not get worse.
"I… I think you should go..." you said after a few minutes, looking away."... I... I'll still help you if you… need me to.”
Bucky felt as if he had been punched in the gut as you flinched away from his touch.
The thought of you fearing him broke his heart even more, confirming every thought his traitorous brain was throwing at him. It was all his fault.
He had pushed, he had been rude and he had to go and act on the feelings he wasn’t supposed to have.
So when you mumbled the next words, he quickly nodded, letting go of your elbow.
"Yeah... yeah alright… whatever you want,” he replied as he took a step back and quickly left the bathroom.
You stood still, looking away until you heard the front door open and close, then you collapsed, knees hitting the floor.
You were trembling, you felt confused as stray tears now streamed down your face again but you also felt at a loss, like someone had stolen your breath.
The next morning you didn’t even remember how you got to bed but you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.
You had nothing much to do and with Bucky probably out of the picture, it was you, alone, all over again.
Still, out of habit in the hours that followed, you checked your phone all the same, finding nothing, as you had expected.
Bucky, on the other hand, was pissed. At himself, that was.
He kept replaying what had happened in his head, the look on your face, the way you had flinched away from him...
All because he had been too nosy, pushing you into an episode, and then on top of that, he had gone and acted on his stupid feelings.
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If you got this far, thank you...more is coming as I already have 40k words about this. <3
