Heya, would I be able to get a Drabble request from you? I've been feeling down cause my parents have been kind of emotionally abusive to me throughout the years and it's been catching up to me as of late. Could I get Lucio and/or Reinhardt comforting a female s/o who breaks down because of all the emotional turmoil they've been going through? Lots of fluff and maybe a lil bit of sexy times please? I thank you so much for this blog.
Anxiety is a monster. Stress is a shadow. The two of them so often waiting, hidden in the nearly-forgotten corners of your brain, waiting to strike when the moment either seems too perfect or drowned with turmoil. They feed off of one another too, growing with time and acting as the otherwise monster-under-your-bed that you’d been afraid of in childhood.
If your mental stability was a wall, stress and anxiety were always the monsters tearing it apart with all the exuberance of a young child on too much caffeine. Sometimes, this destruction could be helped with time to think, sleep, curl up and simply not think about the world around you.
This time, you couldn’t hide the pain.
It had been growing inside your mind for weeks--maybe longer still--in a variety of subtle or obvious ways, ranging from reminders of past trauma to outward stressful events. Someone yelling a little too loud. Accidentally dropping that coffee cup. Insulting one of your teammates completely by mistake and in oblivious numbness.
The breakdown came with only mild warning to you or your teammates. In what seemed like an otherwise simple accident on your part you found yourself in your room, curled up and crying into the mattress. The tears had long-since begun to sting, cheeks feeling stiff and dirty with the ones that had managed to roll down your face.
It felt like your world was tearing apart at the seams, a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that you couldn’t even begin to find origin of. They simply...existed.
Through the muffled sounds of your sobbing, you didn’t catch the door opening, or the soft, careful footsteps that followed it. No, you didn’t notice a single thing through your thick thoughts until the bed dipped behind you and a warm hand fell to your shoulder.
“Babe?” A familiar, summer-warm voice whispered. “Hey, what’s wrong? You took off and--”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to in order to get across his intense worry. Though you didn’t turn to look back at Lucio, you still felt mildly obliged to answer him.
“I...don’t know.”
The answer hung in the air for a few seconds, sticking just like the tears to your cheek. Lucio took it for a moment, before finally shifting, settling his body behind yours.
“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?” He asked as his arm wound around your body, curling just enough to pull you back against him.
“Don’t know,” You murmured simply, biting back a hiccup of a sob. “Just got so stressed and scared and--”
Silence. Only a moment of it though, before you felt just good enough about turning around so you could let the other see your watery eyes and tearstained face.
Lucio didn’t say anything at first. He merely let you shift, watching your face for a few moments before reaching up to cup his palm against your cheek. His eyes spoke volumes that he didn’t, either not wanting you to feel smothered or unable to speak your mind. Nevertheless, his eyes were deep with sympathy and warmth.
“...bottled up a lot of feelings, yeah?”
It makes more sense when he says it, instead of the words tearing haphazardly through one side of your mind to the other. It...seems better, in his voice. Less like it’s going to tear apart your sense of self, and more like it’s just...a thing. A bad thing, but a simple thing nevertheless.
Lucio hums for a moment before pulling you closer, lightly coaxing you to nuzzle under his chin. You do so without argument, feeling not smothered, but protected in his hold.
“There’s been a lot of stuff this week,” You say, muffled against his collarbone. “A lot of bad stuff. Everything seemed to go wrong and I’ve...been having some nightmares.”
Your lover’s first response isn’t surprise, isn’t shock, isn’t even sudden and overwhelming concern--those would have done plenty to make the panic and anxiety all the worse. Instead he merely hums again, his hands rubbing in slow, gentle lines up and down your back.
“It’s gonna be okay, babe,” He whispered, taking a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’re gonna lay here for a little bit okay? Nobody’s angry at you--we can lay here for a while and then we’ll talk about it alright? I’m not going to go anywhere either. I’m right here with you.”
You nod against his chest, leaving the musician to lightly hum to himself. You can hear the tune, familiar, as it rumbles through his chest. The sound is as soothing as his hands as they still caress up and down the center of your back, lulling you for a short dozing that does, at least, begin to help numb the edges of your anxiety-riddled mind.
