#Nightmares tw

[writingmyheartsout]

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

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)

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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.

___________________

If you got this far, thank you...more is coming as I already have 40k words about this. <3

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Epilogue

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 31. Panic Attack Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: As you begin to head home after your traumatic night, you discover Tyler's concerns were valid. But can you learn to overcome your fears when your greatest fear might still come true? Are things truly over between you and Tyler? Word Count: 5283 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, PTSD, Panic Attack, Head Injury, Blood, Dissociating, Heartbreak, Tears, Tyler carries Reader, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @green-socks for the incredible beta read and advice! And to @mayhem24-7forever and @blue-aconite for all the constant support! Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event!

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Unfortunately, Tyler had been right about how the events of that night would affect you.

Scott got you checked into the hospital and they managed to remove all the remaining glass from your aching body. They also ran a CT scan on your head to make sure you hadn’t done more damage when you hit it than you thought. It came back as a mild concussion, but they wanted to keep you overnight for observation just to be safe. They also put you on an IV since you were slightly dehydrated (probably from all the tears you’d shed that night).

As you settled into your temporary accommodations, you told Scott he could go back to the motel and pick you up tomorrow. There was no reason he should hang out here all night when he already rented a room with a somewhat comfortable bed before all of this happened. He didn’t respond either way, just sunk down lower in the chair he was sitting in. 

Taking that as him intending to stay, you rolled over and tried to get comfortable in the lumpy hospital bed. You stared at the empty space beside you where Tyler usually lay and you reached out, as if touching that spot would somehow make him appear. But of course, he didn’t. He was back picking up the pieces of your budding relationship in what was left of your shattered motel room.

You try to bury your head in your pillow so Scott doesn’t see the tears forming in your eyes, but you can’t hold back a loud sniffle as you think about all that you lost tonight. Scott must have heard it because he rose from his chair and ducked out of the room. You didn’t blame him. After all, he’d never been good with emotions—expressing them or dealing with them—and you were only just starting to reestablish your relationship so he had to be uncomfortable.

Ten minutes later, however, Scott walked back into the room. Coming up to your bed, he thrust his hand out. “Here.”

You blinked in surprise at the teddy bear he held out to you. It was about a foot tall with brown fur. There was a bandaid on its head next to its ear, its arm was in a sling, and one of its legs was wrapped in bandages. Scrawled across its tummy in childlike writing was the phrase “Get Well Soon”. 

Taking it from him with trembling hands, you asked, “Wh-where did you…?”

He shrugged. “The gift shop. I thought you might want something to keep you company while you sleep.”

“I love it, Scotty. Thank you.” You squeeze the bear tightly to your chest. Smiling up at your brother, you said, “I’m gonna call him Bill.”

Scott’s brow furrowed. “Why Bill?”

You shrugged, holding out your new friend to look at him. “I don’t know. He just looks like a Bill.”

Scott sighed as he shook his head, but you caught a glimpse of a small smile on his lips as he walked back to the chair he had been sitting in earlier and flopped back down. He pulled the bill of his baseball hat down so it covered his face as he sunk deeper into his seat. 

Picking at Bill’s bandage, you asked softly, “So, you’ll be here all night? Like if I…if I need something?”

“Yeah,” Scott said from under his hat. “I won’t leave you alone.”

Nodding in gratitude, you whispered, “Thank you, Scotty. For everything.”

With one finger—in an act that reminded you so much of Tyler—he pushed the bill of his hat up enough so he could see you. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you and that last conversation we had was the last time I ever got to talk to you.”

“I’m glad we’ve gotten to talk more and work everything out.”

“Me too.” Scott's smile widened. Then he pulled his hat back down over his face. “Now, try to get some sleep. You’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow.”

Rolling back over, you tucked Bill under your arm and hugged him tight to your chest. As you began to drift off, you wondered if Tyler was lying down to sleep yet, and—if he was—if he was thinking of you too.

You're back in that motel room. All the lights are out and you are standing by the bed in that merch shirt and your underwear. Looking around, you realize that you’re alone. Tyler isn’t anywhere to be seen. 

You take a single step forward and the entire room explodes. The window in front of you shatters into millions of tiny dagger-like pieces of glass which drive into you, pinning you to the floor. Your head slams into the bed and you feel a river of blood flowing into your hair and pooling around you. The wind seems to have come alive as it growls and roars at you, clawing at your legs and trying to drag you through the now gaping hole in the wall. You scream out for Tyler, for Scotty, for anyone who might save you but there is no one. As the blood continues to gush from your head, the pool rises, spilling into your mouth and drowning you. You gasp for air which is stolen by the storm and—

“We can’t snap her out of it, she’s not coming to.”

“All this screaming is going to terrify the other patients.”

“She’s thrashing around too much, she’s going to pull out her IV.”

“We need to sedate her.”

“Wh-what’s going on? What’s wrong with her? Is she okay?”

Even through the terror flooding your system, you recognized that last voice as your brother’s. But before you could open your eyes or try to reach him, you felt a small prick on your arm and you were pulled down into a dark, dreamless unconsciousness.

When you slowly woke up again, you noticed sunlight streaming through the half-opened blinds. Your throat was even sorer than you remembered when you fell asleep and it felt bone dry. Reaching blindly next to you for a glass of water, you felt hands gently take yours and lay it back on the bed.

“Hey,” Scott said softly, stepping into your field of vision. “Just rest. Do you need something?”

“Water,” you croaked out, your tongue running over your chapped lips. 

Scott disappeared for a moment then reappeared with a plastic cup. You tried to take it from him only to finally realize your hand felt heavy and sluggish when you tried to move it—as did the rest of your body. Scott must have noticed because he lifted your head and helped you drink. After you had chugged most of the cup (spilling a lot of it down the front of your hospital gown), you felt a little better. 

Clearing your throat, you asked, “What happened?”

“You had a nightmare last night.” Scott settled back into a chair he must have dragged up next to the bed. “They couldn’t wake you up and were afraid you’d hurt yourself so they sedated you.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember any of that?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah.” You shuddered slightly as you recalled your nightmare. “I guess Tyler was right about how what happened might have affected me.” 

“I’m sorry.” Scott reached out and took your hand. Something caught his eye and he grabbed it off the floor with his free hand. Gently, he placed Bill on the bed next to you. “Guess he didn’t do such a good job watching over you.” 

Grabbing the bear, you hugged it tightly. “He did his best. Sometimes, there’s only so much you can do to protect someone.” Tears began to fill your eyes. “And sometimes, protecting someone means making painful decisions. But even then, it might not be enough.” 

Scott scoffed softly. “Something tells me you’re not talking about Bill anymore.”

You shook your head. “Tyler tried so hard to keep me safe. He even sent me away despite it breaking both our hearts to do it. But it didn’t matter. I left like he wanted but the storm still followed me. Now I’m afraid I’ll never be rid of it and I gave up someone I loved for nothing.”

Scott shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with you once again admitting you were in love with Tyler, but he resisted his usual urge to insult him, instead calmly saying, “We all knew this wasn’t going to be an overnight process. Owens told you to leave because he didn’t want you to have to face the possibility of encountering another storm. But that was never going to fix the damage done to you by the first one. I don’t know what it’ll take to heal that, but I do know I’m not turning my back on you again. Whatever you need, I’ll be there to help you through it.”

The tears that had formed in your eyes began streaming down your face. You opened your arms, fully expecting him to not take the invitation. But to your utter surprise, Scott leaned forward and wrapped you in a—slightly awkward—embrace. 

With his head next to yours, you whispered your deepest fears to your brother, “What if I can’t move past this? What if what happened last night is just my new normal for the rest of my life? And what if…what if Tyler realizes he doesn’t really love me or want to deal with all this new baggage I have?” 

Scott flinched at your admitted fears. Hesitating for a moment, he finally admitted, “I don’t know the answer to those questions. I think you need to find someone to talk to, like a therapist. I have some friends who might know someone who specializes in stuff like this and I’ll make some calls. As for Owens, if he can’t see what an amazing woman you are, baggage or no, then I was right all along about him. But…” He sighed in a way that made it seem like whatever came next pained him to say, “He seems to really care about you and, from what I saw last night, he didn’t want you to leave any more than you wanted to leave. So, I don’t think you have to worry about him not reaching out once the season’s over. And if he doesn’t, I can always run him over with Scarecrow.”

You laughed even as your snot and tears stained Scott’s shirt. “Would that be more for my honor or just because you’ve wanted to do that for so long anyway?”

“Can’t it be both?”

You laughed again and you felt as the last remaining bit of your nightmare still clinging to you faded into oblivion. However, you knew it’d be back. Last night was just a taste of what you should expect moving forward. 

You were discharged from the hospital later that day with a bottle of sleeping pills and your promise to find a therapist to help you deal with your nightmares. Once you left, Scott drove you to the airport as promised. He sat with you until it was time to go through security. Then, you gave your brother the biggest hug you could manage and said goodbye. You would think with all the goodbyes you had to say the last two days you would have gotten used to them. But as you turned one final time to look at him before you passed through the security doors, tears filled your eyes once more. 

You had found or rediscovered two families on this trip only to once again be left all alone.

The flight home was uneventful. You had called ahead and explained everything to your best friend so she was waiting to take you to your apartment as soon as you walked out of the terminal. Despite your objections, she insisted on staying with you for the first couple of nights after hearing about your hospital freakout. But you didn’t want her to see you like that, to know how bad things really were. So, you tried your best to stay awake the entire time she was there (and luckily the one time you did doze off, you were so exhausted you didn’t dream at all). So, she left two days later, confident that you would be alright on your own.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

Even safely back in your own apartment, far from the rolling plains and open skies of Oklahoma, the events of that night continued to haunt you. Anytime the wind picked up outside or you heard a police or fire siren go off, you flashed back to that motel room and devolved into a full-blown panic attack. And every night you woke up multiple times, gasping for breath and terrifiedly retreating from any window in your apartment. At least when the storm had actually hit, you had Tyler there to comfort you. Now, you were alone.

One night after a particularly bad attack, you managed to roll out of bed and crawl into your closet. There, curled in a ball on the floor, you sobbed and shook as that night replayed in your mind. But then, you heard a voice whispering “Shhh… sweetheart, it’s over now. We’re okay, we’re okay. We made it.” 

Your head shot up and you looked around the dark space. “Tyler?”

But of course, he wasn’t there. It was just part of the memory. Yet as you laid back down on the floor, it wasn’t the howling of the wind roaring in your ears or pulling at your clothes, it was Tyler’s voice repeating those words over and over again that you heard and you felt his fingers caressing your skin as he tried to soothe you. In minutes, you had drifted off to sleep.

After that, you spent most nights curled in the bottom of your closet. You cleaned out the shoes and boxes scattered across the floor, laid a few blankets down, tossed in a pillow, and placed Bill on top so he was waiting for you. It wasn’t the most comfortable of arrangements, but being in the closet helped ease some of the terror from your dreams, so it would do. 

Scott had an old friend from MIT whose sister was now one of the country’s top PTSD therapists so, true to his word, he made a call to get you an appointment. It felt a little strange being labeled as having PTSD, but then again, you couldn’t think of any other way to describe what you were dealing with. 

It took more than a few visits, but eventually, your work with the therapist seemed to be paying off. You still had the nightmares but they became a few times a week occurrence instead of an every night thing. And even when you did have one, you could usually manage to calm yourself down and go back to sleep shortly after (though you were still sleeping in your closet most nights just to be on the safe side). 

You called Scott after every appointment to let him know how it went. Since you had gotten home, you talked to your brother at least once a day, usually just to check in and see how you were doing. Things still weren’t perfect between the two of you, but they were better than they had been in years. In fact, your relationship was probably better than it had ever been. Scott was still his usual no-nonsense, unemotional, snarky self, but there was a softness in his tone that hadn’t been there before. And you even made him laugh on occasion.

He never mentioned Tyler and you never asked. 

A few times a week, you received texts or emails from the Wranglers, usually sending you a funny video or asking how you were. You missed your little found family so much and it was a relief to see you weren’t the only one. Part of you thought they might not give you a second thought once you left, but it was clear they missed you as much as you missed them. 

They never mentioned Tyler and you never asked.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to watch any of their YouTube videos, old or new. Once you had gotten deeper into your therapy though, your therapist encouraged you to. She said it would help tackle some of your fears of the storms by experiencing one, but all from the complete safety of your apartment. It was sound advice…if that was your issue with the videos.

You didn’t tell her it wasn’t that you couldn’t face the storm, it was that you couldn’t bear to see or hear Tyler in the videos. Even seeing his picture on one of the thumbnails had made your heart ache and tears well up in your eyes before you slammed the laptop shut.

Part of you felt stupid about how much you missed him. After all, he had only been in your life for three weeks. Yet you had known from your first kiss that you never wanted anyone else. In your mind, Tyler was it for you and to have him ripped away so suddenly was devastating. You knew if you watched those videos, they would just remind you of riding beside him in that perfect bubble you had lived in for those few weeks. When the world was perfect and nothing could go wrong. How naive you had been.

But as much as the pain of saying goodbye was on your mind, worse was the constant fear that you shared with Scott in the hospital. That the distance would make Tyler realize he didn’t want you and you would be left sitting by the phone for a call that would never come. And seeing Ty, hearing his voice as he did the thing he loved most in this world, would make that eventual rejection hurt all the more. If you maintained your clean break, then if things were truly over, you didn’t have to start the healing process all over again once it became clear you’d never hear from Tyler again.

Or that’s what you told yourself. 

Thirty-six days after you left Oklahoma, you were cleaning up after dinner when your phone rang. Figuring it was Scott calling for his nightly check-in, you paused your music and snatched your phone off the counter. 

Your world stopped as you saw the contact photo staring back at you. 

It was the first time you had seen his face since the thumbnail incident and he was every bit as handsome as in your memories. Pressing the answer button, you raised your trembling hand to your ear, still not believing it was really him.

“Hello?” you whispered, voice quivering as you held your breath.

There was a slight pause, and then, “Hey, sweetheart. You feeling up for a visitor?”

You let out a shaky breath of relief, as the sound of his voice washes over you. “Fuck yeah, I am,” you said, tears streaming down your beaming face. “I’ve been waiting for your sorry ass to call since the moment I left. How soon can you be here?”

He chuckled, the sound sending a warm glow spreading through your body. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your phone slipped from your fingers and your head shot up as there was a loud knock at your door.

Tripping over your own feet as you scrambled towards the door, you flung it open without pausing to confirm who was on the other side. 

And there he was.

Whether it was true or just the fact you had gone so long without seeing him, Tyler had never looked more handsome. With his hair freshly trimmed, just a faint hint of stubble lining his cheeks, and wearing a fresh pair of jeans with a new button-down green shirt that highlighted his eyes, he was breathtaking. But what really made you weak in the knees was the dimpled grin he gave you as his eyes lit up upon seeing you.

“There’s my girl.”

You launched yourself into his arms, tears streaming down your face as your lips found his. You heard his hat and phone clatter to the ground where he had been holding them, but you didn’t care. His hands settled on your waist—you had forgotten how large and strong they were—and he pulled you flush against his body. You gasped into his mouth at the sudden movement and he rocked gently against your hips. 

He still smelled like the moment before a rainstorm, fresh and earthy, but he had also put on some cologne for the occasion. It was only then that you realized while he had gotten all fancy for his visit, you were currently in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a tank top stained by tonight’s spaghetti sauce. And that wasn’t even mentioning the state of your hair or your lack of makeup.

Peeling your mouth away from his, you muttered, “You should have told me you were coming. I’m a complete mess.”

But Tyler shook his head, one hand sliding up your body until it cupped the base of your neck. “No, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” And he kissed you again.

This time it was needier, hungrier, and it reminded you of your kiss the first night you invited him into your room. But if things were headed in that same direction….

“Ty,” you moaned against his lips, your bare toes curling on the concrete as a jolt of pleasure went through your core. “Not here. We can’t do this in the hall.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away, his green eyes dark and his lips swollen. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “I, uh, I let things get away from me for a moment.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him, still amazed he was standing before you even as you still tasted him on your tongue. Grabbing his hand, you cried, “God, I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He smiled back then grabbed his phone and hat off the floor. You chuckled softly as you noticed his call to your phone was still active just before he ended it. 

As he grabbed his things, you quickly reentered your apartment and tried to do a five-second cleaning job: flinging dirty clothes into your bedroom, tossing old take-out boxes into the pantry, stuffing your vibrator deep into the couch cushions. You whirled around just in time to see Tyler walking through the door with his hat and duffle bag in hand.

He looked around the small apartment and let out a whistle. “Nice place. It feels very…you.”

“Thanks, I guess.” You walked over and took his hand. “I can’t believe you’re here! How did you even know where to find me?”

Tyler grinned. “Your brother. He gave me your address before Storm PAR left for the season.”

Your jaw dropped open. “He knew? I talk to that dickhead every day and he didn’t tell me! Oh, the next time I talk to him, he’s getting a fucking earful.”

Tyler laughed as he trailed his knuckles across your jawline. “It’s called a surprise, sweetheart.” But then the light dimmed slightly in his eyes and his tone became slightly more serious. “And I wanted to make sure he thought you’d want to see me. I didn’t want to just show up only to find out you decided it was better to cut all ties with everything that happened, including me.”

You shook your head. “Never. I’ve missed you every fucking day since I left, Tyler Owens, and sometimes, the hope of having this moment was all that kept me going.”

“How’ve you been? I didn’t want to invade your privacy by asking Scott and he never offered any information so…” He shrugged, not knowing how to end the thought.

You hesitated for a moment as you tried to find your own words. “I’m…okay. You were right and I’ve struggled with what happened. They say I have PTSD, but I’ve got a really great therapist and I’m making progress. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m getting through it.”

“That’s my girl,” Tyler whispered. He brushed a stray piece of hair off your face. “I’m just so sorry any of this happened. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I told you before, Ty, I’m only alive because of what you did. So you’re not allowed to blame yourself for anything that happened. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He started to say something else, but it was just off by a large yawn. Suddenly realizing your manners (you didn’t have the same instinctual courtesy as Tyler did apparently), you took his hand and led him to the couch. “Oh god, I’m such a bad host. Do you want anything to eat or drink? I’ve still got a little spaghetti leftover from dinner or we can order something.”

Tyler smiled as he allowed you to drag him across the room. “No thanks, sweetheart. I grabbed something at the airport.”

You stopped. “Wait, you came straight from the airport?”

“Yeah, so?”

“No wonder you seemed tired! Do you want to lay down? Or take a shower or something? And—” Another sobering thought just occurred to you. “A-and how long are you planning on staying?”

Tyler squeezed your hand. “I can leave whenever you want me to but I have about a month before I have to be back to Arkansas. Everything else I can do from here or by talking with the crew.”

“A month?” Your heart fluttered in your chest. “I get you for a whole month?”

“Or until you’re sick of me.”

“Not gonna happen.” You pulled Tyler down for another kiss.

When you parted, Tyler sighed, “Now that you mentioned it though, I do think I’d like to take a shower if that’s alright. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, of course.” You tucked into the other room and grabbed a towel. Then you flipped on the light in the bathroom. “Soaps in the shower and if you need anything else, just call.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He kissed you on the forehead then ducked into the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

When he went to take a shower and wash off all his travel funk, you settled onto the couch. You quickly shot Scott a strongly worded text about him keeping this from you…but then added a thank you at the end for helping Tyler get to you.

Since the shower was still on, you pulled up the Wrangler’s YouTube channel on your iPad to watch a few of the videos you missed. It’s great seeing the whole crew again, but you noticed there was a significant change in their demeanor. They weren’t as energetic or wild as usual, especially Tyler. He was still putting on a show, but you could tell it was forced. 

Surprisingly, seeing the storm didn’t bother you in the slightest. Maybe it was the fact you always felt safe within Tyler’s truck. Or maybe it was because it was just a video and you knew it couldn’t hurt you. Or maybe it was just because Tyler was in the other room and you knew you were safe. But at least that was one goal marked off your therapy list.

As the video began to wind down, you began scrolling for another to click on when you heard Tyler giving his send-off. “As always, if you feel it, chase it! And, sweetheart—” Your eyes grew wide and you quickly scrolled to the top of the screen to see Tyler staring deeply into the camera, as if he were staring into your soul “—if you’re watching this, I love you. And I miss you so damn much.” He blew a kiss to the screen and the video ended. 

Stunned, you stared at the frozen image of the man you loved, his lips still puckered in his kiss for you. Quickly, you clicked on the next video and jumped to the very end. Tyler was saying something about getting a stronger balloon string next time, then he smiled at the camera and added, “Whether you ever see this or not, I love you, sweetheart. I hope you’re doing okay.”

You quickly clicked on the next one and skipped to the end. Tyler stood outside the truck with his hands on his hips, staring up at the now clear blue sky. Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he sighed and choked out, “Goddamn, you would have loved this one, sweetheart. Chases like this just aren’t the same without you next to me. I love you.”

You go through almost every video the Wranglers posted since you left. Even and every one of them ended with some variation of Tyler saying he loved you. With your heart nearly bursting, you played the last video, the one they posted yesterday as their final chase of the season. It showed Tyler grinning into the camera so wide his dimples were on clear display as he said, “I love you, sweetheart, and it’s finally time I chased ya. See you soon, my brave, beautiful girl.”

The iPad tumbled to the floor. All this time you had been so afraid Tyler wouldn’t come that you had avoided his videos. Yet, if you had just trusted him to keep his word, you would have known from day one not to doubt him or his feelings towards you. 

Standing, you stepped over the iPad and walked over to the bathroom. You heard the shower still running but you didn’t even knock before you turned the handle and went in. Tyler was rubbing soap all over his defined chest as you pulled the curtain back. He froze, not seemingly bothered by your intrusion, just confused.

He gave you a moment to explain what was happening, but when you didn’t speak, he asked,  “Hey, is everything okay?”

Without removing your clothes, you stepped into the shower. As water poured over your head, soaking you and weighing down your clothes, you placed your hands on either side of Tyler’s face. 

As he stared at you, concern etched on his face, you whispered, “I love you, too, Ty. And even if we have to do long distance for a while or make some big life decisions moving forward, I’m all in. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Tyler’s face softened and he tilted his face to kiss your palm. Then, he slid his arms around you, drawing you into his bare, soapy chest. Your arms wrapped around him as you rested your cheek against his tattoo while he stroked the nearly identical one on your back. And as he kissed the top of your head, he murmured, “Well, you better get comfortable, sweetheart. Because I’m never letting you go again.”

The two of you stood there embraced in each other’s arms underneath the spray until the water grew cold. And even then, you only separated long enough to strip off your clothes, both dry off, and for you to lead him into the bedroom. There, you lay on the bed facing each other and snuggled tightly together. There would be time for more rigorous and exciting bedroom activities later. Right now, you just savored the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin. 

You had gone to Oklahoma to find your brother. When that went south, you had sought out revenge. But it turned out you found something sweeter—you found the love of your life. 

And now, you intended to spend the rest of your life in his arms. 

Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, and commented throughout this series. Your support and love along the way has kept me motivated and excited to continue this series 💞 While the series may be over, I am more than happy to return to this world and its characters with one-shots and headcanons if desired. I pretty much have their entire future planned out in my head 😂 So if anyone is ever missing them, feel free to send me an ask or question about Tyler and Reader's future after the end of this story.

[ldma-boodyshaker900]

Krangrified Leo Au Remastered

Tw Blood Warning, Trauma, Dead, Tentacles

Comic: in process and planed to be finished.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (TW blood), Part 4(TW slightly Blood), Part 5 (Tw Blood and Injuries) , Part 6 (advancement)

Doodles: request From @scribble-me-to-my-core, Cannon and Sillys

Characters: Black void Mikey

Characters Info: Mikey

Asks and Requests (You can ask in any moment!):

Mini comics (non yet):

Before being remastered:

Part 1 , Part 2 ,Poster , Short Animation (Also My first one), old desing and poster, Old idea

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Why Not Us?

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six |

CW: Memories of mass murder, some internalized dehumanization, survivor’s guilt

-

Misae made it to the little bedroom before the moon rose, thankfully. He nearly tripped over the strange mattress on the floor, the one they’d blown up with air and then thrown blankets and pillows on. It was meant to be his bed, he thought, which made sense.

Anaya might let him on the real bed, but not to sleep. Wolves, like dogs, slept on the floor. It would be lonely, but it would make sense. Almost nothing did, now. Sitting in chairs, eating pizza instead of having to shift to eat the raw meat thrown into the kennels, wearing clothes and being asked if he would like something to drink… they didn’t seem to know what he was, to understand. 

He could hear them now, Eden, Anaya, and Vanessa, from down the hall. They talked and laughed, and Misae felt hollowed out at the sound, wishing he could be there with them.

Maybe there would be more pizza.

He laid one hand on his stomach. It felt… almost rounded. He’d never eaten so much or so well, not in all the life he had lived. He hadn’t had to fight over any of it, either. There hadn’t been the need to snarl and posture, or crawl on his belly and lick at an older wolf’s mouth, hoping they’d give him a few scraps out of pity or some dim affection.

The moon’s slow rise made him restless, bouncing on his toes as he tried to decide where he could safely change. The room was small, but he could fit under the big bed if he was smart about it. 

But then the humans would get into the bed, and if the mattress dipped low it might force him back out.

The call to shift prickled under his skin, and Misae stripped his shirt and pants off before it could take hold and leave him confused and trapped in the cloth. He tossed the sweatpants and shirt onto the bed just as he felt his spine begin to bend.

It always felt so good, when the shift started. Like waking up after a good sleep, coming back to where you belonged. He had always been meant to walk on four legs, and the human side was only what he was allowed for good behavior.

He leaned over, a sensation like goosebumps running up and down his arms and legs, setting his hair on end. The healing wound in his leg throbbed but some of the pain felt more distant as he changed.

It wasn’t that the wound disappeared, it was only that his wolf body knew how it felt to be injured with silver far better than his human body did. It knew how to ignore the pain, how to keep moving, because to let the pain take you was to be singled out to die. Wolves who were too hurt to keep going were wolves that starved, his instincts knew it. Wolves who starved died.

Everyone died anyway. It hadn't mattered how good they were when Bill didn't want them any longer.

He shuddered and shoved that thought aside. He couldn’t think about his family, not now. It would overtake him and he’d just be trapped in the grave in his mind, even if his body was here still breathing.

He couldn’t think about dozens of flat blank eyes, frozen in mute horror. He couldn’t think about the warmth still lingering in the stiffening bodies pressed all around him, about how Nina had tried to cover him and hide him from the shots even as she had been bleeding to death herself. 

Had Nina been his real mother?

It was possible. Their fur was the same, their eyes were the same. But some of the other wolves had fur and eyes like his, too. But... maybe Nina had been his mother.

Maybe she had known it, if only at the end, and tried to save the one pup she could.

The humans had tried to ruin them to each other, make them hurtful and hateful, but the wolves had found a way to love, anyway. In secret, when it was safe, and at the end when nothing was safe and it didn’t matter any longer there was one more way to love that Bill couldn't take from them.

It made no difference if you loved when you would lose each other anyway. In the end, the werewolves had loved each other, and it hadn’t saved any of them.

Except him.

Misae closed his eyes, stretching his shifting muscles and forcing himself to leave the dead behind, for now anyway. For as long as he could. 

Bones cracked and broke beneath his skin, painlessly reforming. Misae dropped to a crouch and leaned his weight forward on his hands, feeling bare, vulnerable fingers change to rougher paw pads and clicking nails. He stretched his front legs until the muscles stretched and burned and sighed, contented by the feeling.

Canine teeth lengthened and his ears grew. He twitched one just to feel it, exhaling a rough sigh as his tongue briefly lolled out. Fur spread over skin like a blanket, a little patchy but still warming his chilly body, and the bed on the floor called to him. He was tired, and the killing back at Bill’s house kept trying to worm its way past his moments of comfort and warmth in this new place, with these new people.

If he laid still, it would catch up with him, and he didn’t want Anaya or Eden to hear how wolves mourned, how they cried. He didn’t know if they would still comfort him then, or if they would turn angry at the sounds, or learn to hate him. Bill’s family hated the sound of the mourning wolves, beat them for their weeping in human form or for their howls as wolves. 

Who knew what regular humans would do? 

Misae only knew that Anaya and Eden had been kind, so far. But so had Aaron, sometimes - Bill’s youngest son had been known to scratch behind a wolf’s ears when none of the other humans were looking. Even Austin had once bandaged Misae’s leg after he’d gotten it caught in a fence and bled.

That didn’t make them any kinder when the werewolves broke the rules, rules no one ever said out loud but simply expected the wolves to learn by being beaten when they were broken until they figured them out. It had never stopped Austin from calling them all names, or laughing when they fought.

Human kindness always had limits. 

Always.

Even as he became the first form he ever knew, the stalking werewolf that Bill had never been able to separate from the boy whose body the wolf shared, Misae knew he had to hide. Not from Anaya or Eden, who had already seen him as a wolf. Not because he feared them.

He had to hide because they didn’t know to fear him.

Misae’s nose turned black and scents exploded into the world around him. What had before been just the light smell of cleaning products and maybe a pumpkin-scented candle was now a collection of stories he could read in the air and along the ground. Vanessa had walked in here to set up the mattress, having forgotten to take her shoes off after getting the mail. Misae could smell the grass she had stepped on, scent the slight shift in her smell of frustration when it took a long time to get the air pump working to set up the mattress. He could smell, on the mattress, long months spent idle with no need to be used. The faintest smell of a camping trip, some time in the past - the last time the air mattress had been needed.

The way his sense of smell changed was always what gave away when it was time to find somewhere to hide, before the silver light could touch his fur and call to him. It would make him want to run, to howl and see if any other wolves were nearby to answer.

What would he do if they were?

He had known only his own family. He’d never seen any werewolves that didn’t huddle together in the kennels, fighting over the barest hints of kindness shown to them by Bill and his family. If he met a free wolf, he might simply lay down, show his belly, and wait for them to tear out his throat when they smelled the kennels on him. 

Misae paced restlessly around the small room, limping and trying to keep weight off his injured leg, snuffling against the ground, tracing the hints of Eden and Anaya in here and then following the softer smell of Vanessa until he found the closet door was cracked open.

Perfect. Like a den.

He had to paw at it, whining softly with his ears flat against his head, looking nervously at the patch of moonlight that seemed to head inexorably in his direction. His heart raced beneath his fur at the sight. 

Bill had always said, over and over again, never let the moonlight touch you. It was the only rule the humans told the werewolves, and taught to the pups before they were put into the main kennels. During the full moon, for three nights, they would huddle together inside big wooden boxes that formed a kind of den. Anyone caught outside the den, by Bill or by the cameras, would be punished.

It was the first thing Misae remembered learning, while still toddling around on four short legs, a few weeks after birth. Never let the moonlight touch you. He'd broken the rule running from the guns, from the grave of his family. He'd broken the rule running from Austin. But… that had been different, hadn’t it?

Hadn’t it?

Misae clambered clumsily over a pile of cardboard boxes, blowing harshly through his nose as things packed inside clattered around. He pushed at them with his snout until he had made for himself a sort of barrier, protecting him from the world outside this tiny space. He turned in a circle and then laid down, ears flat, shimmering amber-brown eyes watching the silvery light that cut across the bed through the open doorway.

Beneath his nose, soaked into the floorboards years ago, he could smell a hint of a rose perfume. Left by some other person, long before any of the familiar smells of Vanessa's life had entered this place.  

The scent made him shudder, heart going cold.

Bill's wife Ada wore rose perfume. 

The smell of roses, for the children in the puppy kennels, meant one of you might vanish that day. Ada sometimes took them, luring them out with treats and soft words until she could get the loop around their necks to pull tight, leading them on the leash inside.

She mostly brought them back, after sticking needles to take blood or give what she called 'medicine' that put the puppies to deep sleep and left them groggy and confused upon waking. She mostly brought them back.

But not always.

Rose perfume drifting on the air was sometimes all the warning they got before a pup disappeared. 

The memories made him tremble and he whined softly, but quieted the sound as fast as he could. It was something all of them learned, not just how to hide from the moonlight but also how to be so quiet that none of the men and women inside the house could hear and think of them.

They all learned how to be, if only temporarily, forgotten.

Now Misae was the only left for Bill and his family to remember. He wondered if Bill would come for him, still. Try to find him. Or if, now that he'd outrun Austin, he'd let Misae go into a world where nobody was left to even love him in secret any longer.

It was Eden and Anaya he needed to hide from now. Not because they might hurt him, but because he might hurt them. Wolves were most dangerous when the moon was full, calling on their nonhuman blood. 

It made them monsters - hungry, mindless killers. 

Everyone knew that.

Bill made sure everyone knew that. 

He watched the moonlight’s slow crawl along the small room until his eyes drifted shut and he dozed off, his tail flicking occasionally. Once the moon began to set in the morning, just as the sun rose, he’d be able to be a boy again. Until then, he could relax into the form he was far more comfortable in even if he had been painstakingly taught to fear what it was capable of.

He slept deeply enough to have fuzzy, formless dreams. He was beneath all of his family, trying to crawl out from under them. They called for him, cried for help, whined and whimpered and shouted and cursed. 

The air was being slowly crushed out of him, and he desperately tried to get out from beneath the weight of their deaths, their memories.

He looked up to see straight down the barrel of Austin’s shotgun, the black within the metal circle, holding his death.

Found you, Austin said, softly. Time to go, Rusty.

Fingers touched the top of his head.

Misae?

He jolted awake and snapped out of sheer instinct, ears flat in a flash and teeth clicking together. He didn’t quite catch anything, but as his eyes opened, he saw Anaya looking down at him, eyes wide, her hand jerked back against her chest. 

“Misae?” She repeated, voice a little shakier this time. She was wearing sleeping clothes, and Eden was just behind her, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants that had Misae looking in jealousy at skin only scarred along the underside of his chest, two odd half-circle shapes that didn’t mean anything to Misae’s mind. “Holy shit.”

“DId he bite you?” Eden asked, an edge to his voice. “Anaya, if he bit you-... isn’t that how it-... it spreads?”

Misae curled up tighter, whimpering, his heart picking back up into a pounding race that made him dizzy. He tucked his tail as tightly as he could and looked up with his chin pressed against the floor, licking at his chops nervously.

 “Naya? Did he-”

“No, he didn’t,” Anaya replied, frowning back at Eden, before dropping into a crouch. “And we don’t know that that's how it spreads, or whatever. Or even if it does spread. Who even knows what’s real and what isn’t about werewolves?”

“Before yesterday, I would have told you nothing is real about werewolves,” Eden said, hovering behind her. 

“And you would have been wrong, wouldn't you. Besides, he was asleep. I woke him up, that’s on me, not him. Hey, Misae. Hey there, honey.” Her voice softened, and she shoved some of Misae’s barrier of boxes aside, until she could hold out her hand and lay it down with knuckles on floor and palm facing up, between them. “It’s okay, honey. It’s just me. Are you good? We were worried when we didn’t see where you’d gone. You were making some noise in here, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

Misae’s nose twitched. He eased forward, belly to the ground, until he could slowly lay his chin in her palm. She let one finger gently scratch at the soft fur there and he whined. 

“He’s okay,” Anaya whispered. “I scared you, huh? You were having bad dreams, I bet. Don't blame you, this has been a really weird day. Just... the weirdest. Can I ask why you're here in the closet?”

“There’s a joke about being a closeted werewolf in there somewhere, but I’m honestly not awake enough to make it,” Eden said, but he moved back until he could sit on the bed. He didn’t quite relax, not yet, but the space helped Misae to feel a little safer. Eden didn’t look - or smell - angry. 

“Oh, shut up,” Anaya said, rolling her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. She wasn’t angry, either. “And don’t spend all night coming up with it, either. I don’t want to hear it when we wake up.”

“Well, now I have to come up with something. I have to come up with something and have it be the literal first thing I say to you when we wake up,” Eden teased, flopping himself backwards onto the bed and wriggling under the blankets, sighing happily when he was covered up. “Oh, this comforter weighs a ton. Perfect.”

“For someone who likes to sleep in the absolute wilderness like a caveman, you sure love a weighted blanket.” Anaya snorted.

"If I'm a caveman, that means you like a caveman." Eden grinned. "Ha ha, you're in love with a Neanderthal," He sing-songed. Anaya threw up a middle finger over her shoulder in his general direction, and Eden's smile only widened.

Misae wondered what a Nee-ander-tal was as his eyes flicked to the side, taking in the window, looking for the moonlight. To his relief, the curtains were closed.

The room was dark, now, except for a small lamp they’d turned on by the bed. There was no chance of the moon catching at his fur, calling him to hunt, to rip and tear and rend. 

Misae pushed himself slowly onto his feet, ignoring his throbbing back leg. Anaya smiled at him, and it felt like a reward. His heart beat faster for new reasons, and he followed her as she eased back and away from the closet, pushing past the boxes. 

When Anaya sat on the air mattress on the floor, Misae moved slowly onto it as well until he could lick at the corners of her mouth with his tail tucked underneath him. She laughed and pushed lightly at him, and he moved to lay on his side, paws curled to show her his stomach, baring his vulnerable throat.

“He likes you,” Eden commented idly from up on the bed. “Pretty sure that’s wolf for ‘you’re cool, let’s be buds.’ Also I think it means he thinks you're in charge."

"I am in charge," Anaya said, voice haughty, but there was laughter lining every word. "It's good that both you boys know it."

Misae shifted back onto his stomach and curled back up until his tail covered his nose. Anaya smiled at the sight, reaching out to scratch the top of his head. Misae sighed, eyes drifting closed again. He relaxed under the gentle affection. “There you go. All right, what matters is that you're okay. Let’s try to get some sleep, yeah? All three of us.”

He watched her stand up, ears drooping as she climbed into the real bed, next to Eden. He watched her get under the blanket, laying next to Eden. He laid on the floor where wolves belonged, missing the warmth of his family. Missing the den. Alone, here, on the ground. Werewolves weren't meant to be alone - he knew that, not from Bill or Austin but from how perfect it had felt in the den, in the kennels, when they were all together.

Anaya turned off the lamp, and darkness overtook the room.

The humans, he thought, would be blind in the dark. Misae could see everything, though. He could see the silvery moonlight held back by the curtains, could see Eden’s chest rise and fall, slowing as he slipped into sleep. He could see that Anaya stayed awake a while longer.

He listened to her breathing, holding back his whimpers until it slowed and deepened and he knew he wouldn't wake her. He could lay here, alone.

Well.

Not entirely alone. 

His family was here, even if they weren’t. They would never leave him, not fully, not all the way. Even now he could feel them nosing around him trying to find a comfortable spot. He knew the pressure of their bodies around him like he knew his own paws. He could feel their chill breath on his neck, the soft nuzzle of affection that he would never really feel again. He could sense snuffles and whines, jostles for position that sometimes ended with playful snarling and rumbling growls. He could feel Nina’s weight on top of him. Feel her body jerk with the shots she had taken that he hadn’t. He could hear them, in his heart, howling just outside the little house.

He could hear their cries, begging him to join them. He should have slept for the last time in the big grave with the rest of them. He had been meant to die with his family. He wasn't the fastest in his family, the smartest, the best hunter. He wasn't anything better than anyone else.

There was no reason for him to survive, no special ability or way of being he had that made him deserve this bed with its soft blankets when everyone he loved was quiet and cold in the ground, covered in dirt and decomposing now.

He hadn’t deserved to meet kind humans. He didn’t deserve to eat pizza until his stomach ached and sit in chairs. He didn't deserve hot water to clean the dirt and blood from his skin. Others in his pack had deserved it so much more, and they had been given silver bullets instead, and now...

Now Misae was the only one left who remembered them.

He closed his eyes against the way the darkness wanted to change shape, to make him see his dead family with all the blood and bullets. He listened to their wistful, spectral howls, just outside the window. Calling and calling and calling, crying to him and to each other.

Why you? Why not us, instead? Why not the little pups, why not the mothers, why not the older wolves who had been good for so long? You were never all that good. What about you deserved to live? Why not us?

Why was it you?

Anaya and Eden slept together.

Misae slept with ghosts.

-

@finder-of-rings  @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings 

@yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger

@dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood @fangedcinnamonroll @pigeonwhumps @yassifiedinformation

[dhampiravidi]

Had a nightmare about evil AI accidentally being created by Shadowhunters, leading to the conquest of multiple galaxies & the end of mankind. I woke up terrified.

Then I realized—The Clave doesn’t use computers. Why TF would they ever try to use robots (& I’m not talking The Infernal Devices)?

[susiequaz12]

Whumptober 8- Sleep Deprivation/Forced to Stay Awake

-

He choked out a sob, the electric shocks coursing through his system once more. 

“Please-” He cried out with a sob. “I’m so- so tired.”

He lay, chained to the table, his wrists and ankles restrained tightly. There was a shock collar around his neck, wires, streaming from his head- tuned to register whenever he started drifting asleep- and then sending shocks to the collar.

His body trembled, muscles aching and throbbing. 

He had been here for three days. 

There was an iv in his arm, keeping him nourished, but even before they had hooked him to this table, he hadn’t slept for days. 

There was always too many nightmares. 

He used to beg not to fall asleep, he’d do anything to avoid the terror- but now there was nothing he wanted more.

A strangled scream ripped from his throat as the shock collar activated again. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake. His body thrashed against the cold table, flaring up the bruises from where his muscled had been pressed into it for days. 

“I just- just want to sleep-” he sobbed. “Please- please!” He cried. 

How long could a person go without sleep? 

As his cries went unanswered, he trembled with the realization that he was going to find out.

[mischiefxmuses]

closed starter for @lavendaers (Percy x Vex)

Percy was not sleeping well again, nightmares and visions of his death coming back to him. Replaying in his sleep like a bad joke. "The door is open." He was in his apartment, trying to rest on the couch but he was scared to sleep. "Vex." He sat up as he saw her enter and immediately adjusted his shirt and putting his glasses back on. They had seen each other in worse positions but he did want to look his best for her. "Is everything alright?"

[freezingwhitefire]

Okay long story here, it's around 13,000 words so under a read more.

Whumptober Day 27, the full version

Time has a bad time dealing with Repressed Memories and the boys all do what they can to help him out.

Warnings; Repressed Memories, PTSD, Eaten Alive (Dead Hand and Skullfish), Electrocution, Nausea, Being Chained and Gagged.

They were exploring an old abandoned building, some sort of laboratory from what Wild could tell. Time silently agreed with their cook since he’d seen enough labs to recognize one right off. It was just a typical day really… until he entered a room and saw it.

It was a small room, square, and empty… well almost empty. There was a chain and manacles in the middle of the room. The chain was secured to the ground, solidly secure there since the chain appeared to have been secured before the stones for the floor had been laid, and yet it caught Time’s eyes and attention in a way nothing else had all day. Not even the colored vials on the wall just inside the door of the first room had caught his attention so completely.

Something about it made his breath catch, it left him feeling like he needed to turn and run. Time clenched his hands. He was safe. Warriors was just behind him, Twilight was down the hall talking with Wild and Legend. Sky was outside having claimed that the place felt a bit too closed in for his tastes and Four was outside with him. Wind was… running past him to look around the room. The smaller hero stopped next to the chain and looked around the room.

“Hey, Wars, what do you think this was used for?”

Torture. Time kept that thought to himself while wondering where it came from. He hadn’t been tortured like this that he remembered. Still he felt his hands starting to shake a little and he turned so he could see Warriors and Wind both. It felt necessary, like something awful would happen if he couldn’t see them both, especially Wind since he was checking the manacles more closely.

“In a lab like this it is probably for experiments. You know, to keep someone from hurting others if they react badly to something.”

“Oh! So if they react badly to a cure or something?”

“Yeah, the room was probably set up so they would be more comfortable once but it’s gone now.”

Wind nodded and raced past Time again, grabbing Warriors’ hand as he went. Time quickly followed them out of the room, uneasy at the thought of being inside it alone… uneasy at the thought of being there with the chain and the door closed. His hands were shaking while he followed them down the hallway. Time carefully started to adjust his gauntlets when he noticed Warriors glancing back at him, it was less obvious something was bothering him than if he clenched his hands into fists.

They reached where Hyrule was peering into a large hole in the floor and Time’s breath caught, no not just caught, Time couldn’t breathe. He stared into the darkness of the pit and then he felt it, cold metal around his wrists, something that felt like skin keeping his mouth trapped shut, and hands with sharp nails grabbing at him for a gaping toothy grin to bite and bite and rip out pieces. He saw it, a small room, walls that were filthy and covered in debris of some poor people who had been there previously, chained to the floor and arms rising up from the ground. His hands were shaking and Time couldn’t breathe and hands were grabbing him.

It barely registered before Time jerked away and was staggering back until his back hit the wall. It took him a moment to realize that Warriors was standing between him and the others, that his brother’s hand was stretched towards him and his eyes were filled with worry. Time fought the urge to gasp for breath now that he was no longer caught in the.. whatever that was. Without a word, without anything, he turned and swiftly made his way back down the hall. He passed Twilight without really noticing it and kept going until he reached the door to outside.

The sun nearly blinded him but Time kept going until he reached the edge of the forest they’d left earlier to explore the building. He collapsed to his knees next to the tree and pressed a hand against the bark. It helped a little. The tree whispered to him of a cave nearby, of fairies that liked playing over a pond near the cave. He wanted to go right away, but the others were still exploring.. at least he hoped they were and that he had not ruined their fun by his actions.

Time was about to get up so he could go find Sky or Four when he felt like something was ripping part of his leg away. Nausea rose so suddenly that he dropped forwards to his hands and threw up. There was only one creature that had ever gotten close enough to do that to him but Time couldn’t remember-

Silence.

The room was silent and as he opened an eye slightly it was dark. Across from him the wall was splattered with something dark, it smelled metallic and he knew that it had happened recently. He knew the smell of blood after so long in the Evil King’s care. The next thing he noticed was that his jaw ached which brought his attention to something stiff against his cheeks. He cautiously brought his hand closer to feel it and found straps that he couldn’t reach the back of. The straps kept his jaw shut around some sort of bit that reminded him of the bridles he’d seen at the Ranch.

His head throbbed, likely from whatever they knocked him out with, and his hands were cuffed with a chain that was anchored below him. He checked how long it was with a glance and found it might have gotten him to the edge of the room if his guess of how far away it was happened to be right. The soft sound of something moving through the air reached him, somehow he had missed it earlier but now that he noticed it his eyes were drawn to a long thin arm in front of him. The arm was sickly pale with red splatters on it, the hand at the end of the arm had long nails that were pointed and red, the same dark red that was on the wall.

Slowly he curled up a little, wondering what that was and how it had caused the sort of damage that would cover the wall like it was. He shifted a little, turning his head slightly, and froze when he noticed another arm with a hand behind him, the same distance away as the one in front of him. The room was small, and with how long the arms were he doubted that he would be able to avoid them for long… he doubted that more when he noticed another four arms around him, all of which were the same pale color and swaying. Distantly he wondered if this was some new form of torture that Ganondorf had created, a way to try and force him to stay still and behave.

Shaking that thought away he carefully turned, doing his best to stay in the little area that the hands seemed content to ignore, before trying to get to his feet. It was only then that he realized that the arms were raised from where he had been lying, that was why they hadn’t grabbed him yet. He tried to dodge back as one of the hands swayed closer, the thin arm bending unnaturally, and reached for him. His eyes widened as he felt another hand close around his throat, pulling him back away from the center of the room and lifting him higher. He tried to get free, his hands trying to rise enough to fight the hand closed around his throat away but the chain kept his hands too far away to save him from it.

He tried to scream in terror, to call for help, something, but no words came.

Only a muffled terrified sound came.

He tried harder to reach the hand, to claw it away from him. Suddenly it released him, he was left slightly dazed as he was abruptly released.

Was it over?

Sharp pain rippled from his arm. The terrified sound returned but this one coupled with pain. Twisting he felt the horror he felt at seeing the blood on the walls return, a terror greater than previously. Red wet teeth in a twisted parody of a smile set into a pale deformed face. The stubs of arms ending in sharp points as the deformed bloated body wobbled away from him. He saw more of the sickly pale skin that matched the arms on whatever it was, splattered with more red that mirrored the color of the teeth. He wanted to shift back away from it but memory of the hand behind him came back and Link looked around. His eyes went wide with alarm and terror as he remembered he was surrounded by arms, six of them. He dropped to the ground, backing away from the hand that had grabbed him.

The chain allowed him to try crawling past one arm but he was quickly caught and lifted to his feet once again, the chain stretching out to keep him in place and unable to escape the monster. Another bite, and before he could try escaping from the arm and hand by dropping to the ground once more another one had grabbed hold of him. A scream bubbled up, unbidden and yet a true reflection of his terror as he watched that red stained grin move closer to him, as it bit down and tore away some of his flesh. Somehow he was allowed to collapse on the ground and Link curled up around where the chain was anchored, his arms pulled close to his chest, praying that somehow it was out of reach of the monster and that he’d be allowed to live through this.

A hand grabbed his leg and pulled, dragging him away from his safe spot. He realized that he’d forgotten that the spot in the middle of the floor was only safe if he curled up completely in it. Without thinking he kicked out, using his other foot to try and get free from the monster’s hands. It lifted him up and another bite came before it released him, the bite ripping away a chunk of his leg.

Link was released, collapsing in a heap on the floor and before he could think about crawling back to his spot in the middle of the room another hand lifted him up and Link tried to get the chain binding his hands together up to block the creature’s mouth but it seemed to find the attempt funny since the next bite took a chunk of his shoulder. Another hand grabbed him before he fell and another bite came, on and on it went. Another hand followed by another bite, and finally Link hit the ground curled up and sobbing softly.

Laughter. Familiar dark laughter filled the room and Link was lifted up by his throat.

Looking at the face of the man who imprisoned him Link wanted to fight but could do little more than hang there in his grasp waiting for him to do something, anything.

“Well boy, it seems you met the Dead Hand. A lovely creation of the Royal Family’s, wouldn’t you agree?”

He was turned so he could see the creature, it seemed to cower slightly behind one of the arms as though drawing Ganondorf’s attention was dangerous. Link shuddered, he did not want to get closer to it than he had to. Ganondorf seemed to find his lack of reaction because of the Dead Hand tiring since he waved his hand and the chain holding Link in place detached from the floor. He was carried out of the room, blood dripping down his hands and feet as the bites were jostled by the movement.

They reached another room and he was once again chained to the middle of the room floor. Without warning he was dropped and then lightning hit the ground near him, a couple of sparks hit the chain and Link yelped as the lightning hit him too. He tried to get to his feet but the damage the Dead Hand had caused made that nearly impossible leaving him open to the surges of lightning magic and the occasional burst of fire or ice magic.

“See boy, you should have accepted my offer. We wouldn’t be here if you had agreed to side with me.”

Another blast of lightning, this one accompanied by more pain since Link tried to dodge away from it and tore open his side where the Dead Hand had bitten him. He gave a muffled scream and finally blacked out.

“Time?” someone asked.

A hand gently resting against his back, somewhere near the middle of it.

It couldn’t be the monster… either one of them since they both went for his throat.

“Hey, can you hear me?” The voice came again. A voice he knew… he just needed a moment. A flutter of white cloth brought reality crashing back down around him. Sky. It was Sky asking him if he could hear him.

Time blinked and turned his head towards Sky, realizing that he was still on his hands and knees. He must have been like that since he felt sick. Sky just stayed crouching next to him, blue eyes soft and worried as he studied him. Time slowly nodded and Sky smiled a little while nodding back.

“There we go. What happened?”

He got his answer why he had that thought finding that stupid chain in that room. Time remembered that pain, the bites, the shock of lightning sending his body into spasms of agony as his nerves tried to deal with it and failed which only worsened by fire and ice magic sent far too close and yet not touching him. He opened his mouth to speak but the words were gone. There was nothing he could say to explain, nothing he wanted to say to explain this either. Sky seemed to realize that he wasn’t up to speaking and simply sighed while helping him sit back against the tree.

“I asked Four to go get Twilight when we realized you weren’t moving.”

Why Twilight?

“We thought Wolfie might be able to help.”

Sky brushed his hand against Time’s cheek and Time froze, his breath stopping while he pressed against the tree as hard as he could. Seeing his reaction Sky quickly backed away, his hands held up where Time could see them. Time cursed himself for reacting like that, this was Sky! Sky wouldn’t hurt him.

He closed his eye tightly, his hand moving to his hair and starting to pull when he felt a cool wet nose press against his cheek. The soft puff of air helped pull him out of his thoughts a little and his other hand moved without his guidance to rest in the soft fur while the one in his hair dropped to his lap. He turned his head to rest his forehead against Wolfie’s shoulder… he wanted to thank him or say something, but he still lacked the words. Time drifted a little, simply drinking in the comfort of wolf fur and the warmth of the other being there. He tried to drag himself back from wherever that memory had taken him but he was helpless to do so. Really he just needed this closeness for now.

Something sweet reached him, his eye opened a bit and he leaned back to peer over Wolfie at Wild who had gotten out a pot and set a fire. He must seem pathetic if Wild felt he needed hot chocolate… but he had to admit that he really did need it. Tears were trying to build as he saw the way Wild prepared the biggest mug for him, and the gentle look Wolfie gave him coupled with how he rested his head on Time’s shoulder after pressing his forehead to Time’s… well Wolfie wasn’t going to tell anyone else if Time cried into his fur.

Wolfie nudged him a little later and Time looked up to see Wild holding out the mug for him. He reached for it, hands shaking a little but much steadier than they had been when he’d left that room following Warriors. Wild just smiled as Time took the mug and returned to the fire. He seemed to be thinking about something but Time decided he could handle it himself for now. He took a sip of the drink and sighed, it warmed him a little. He still felt the pain from his side and his leg and his shoulder but for now those pains quieted in favor of the drink.

Sometime later, fourteen minutes and fifteen seconds, a hand gently touched his shoulder. Time looked up to see Hyrule watching him concerned. It was only then that he realized that his hand in Wolfie’s fur was still there, keeping him from moving away… that the others were back from their exploring and they were trying not to watch him but they were clearly focused on him anyway. Quickly he moved his hand from the fur and curled it around the half emptied mug. His hands were tight around it to keep from shaking but he kept his grip loose enough he wouldn’t shatter the mug.

Wolfie pressed his nose gently against Time’s cheek again, a soft reminder that he had been crying, before trotting over to Wild. Time’s throat felt thick, not that it made much difference because he still couldn’t find any words to speak. He attempted to smile at Hyrule, it seemed to work better than his attempts earlier because the younger hero smiled back and nodded before returning to Legend’s side near the fire. Time blinked a bit confused before he noticed that Warriors seemed to want his attention… that reminded him that he would need to talk with his brother and explain his reaction earlier.

“Hey Time, we were thinking about finding somewhere in the forest to rest.”

Time nodded. ‘There is a place close that we can go.’

“How do you know?”

‘The forest told me.’

That seemed good enough for the others and they settled to have a snack, no doubt giving extra time to allow Time to finish the hot chocolate that Wild had made for him. Once he was done it took Time a few extra minutes to get the energy to stand up. WIld appeared next to him shortly after Time managed to get to his feet and took the mug, careful not to brush his fingers against Time’s. Time was grateful because he knew that skin contact was not welcome just yet… it was too close to the memory he’d relived.

He took a quick look over the others and saw that they were gathering their things. Time reached for his pack, mentally going over the path that the forest had whispered to him, and once the others were ready he simply waved for them to follow him. His voice wouldn’t work and it wasn’t even worth trying to speak since it would tell them that more was going on than him simply not speaking to them. The path was easy to follow once they got started along it, a few bushes that had flowers indicated the turning points on the path, and before they knew it they had reached the cave. His eyes caught a glimmer of pink in the forest and he noticed how Hyrule made an excited sound, taking a step in the direction of the fairies but stopped by Legend before he got much further.

They entered the cave and set up camp, Time against a wall and a bit away from the others just in case he had a nightmare about his memory. After something like that it seemed far more likely he would have a nightmare and that if someone touched him the reaction to it would be bad. At least he knew he wouldn’t scream, it wouldn’t happen until his voice came back on its own. He learned that with Malon’s help while recovering from the war.

As Time arranged his things he felt Warriors watching him. Not just Warriors either but all of the others except for Hyrule and Wind who had gone outside to watch the fairies over the nearby pond. Time did his best to ignore it as he removed his armor and weapons. They were camping here for the night and honestly he just wanted to lie down and sleep so that’s what he did. He laid down, tugging his blanket over him, and went to sleep, the emotions and exhaustion both dragged him down into what he hoped would be a dreamless sleep.

The corridor stretched out in front of him, seemingly endless. His heart raced as he ran down it, one hand reached up to feel something around his head. That had to be the gag, he could feel something in his mouth that made his jaw ache. An open doorway passed him and Time glanced inside as he kept going. There was a golden figure with a harp inside, the harp was giving off music which he expected from one so favored by the Goddesses.

He kept going though. Time wasn’t sure what he was running from but he knew he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t go back to the room to warn the musician of the danger and he couldn’t do anything to make the wolf lying across the floor ahead move. Nimbly Time hopped over the wolf and kept going. He had to go, to get away. A quick glance back, wanting to make sure the dog got out of the way, and suddenly he was falling.

His hands shot out to catch him but chains wrapped around his arms, trapping them to his sides, and a hand around his throat caught him. Time twisted, wanting to get free from the hand, but it held fast. Sharp nails pierced his skin as he was lifted up a little, the chains around him pulling tight with the motion. He tried to kick out but the second he did the world was awash with pain as he hit something electric.

Time’s back arched, his mouth opened in a silent scream… or what would have been a scream but his voice still didn’t work. His hands moved to his head, shaking badly, and checked that there was no gag of any sort. Once he was sure that it was just part of the dream, part of the memory, he moved his hands to hide his face. He shook a bit, trying to bury the pain and terror that the dream brought him. It did very little though, his breath hitched as a silent sob tried to make itself known.

A hand landing on his shoulder, the fingers just brushing against his neck, startled him. Time jerked away, scrambling back from whoever it was until his back hit the wall of the cave. He stared wide-eyed for a moment before he recognized the blue scarf around the other’s neck. Warriors was crouching there with his hand outstretched looking at him worriedly. Time wanted to curse since this made twice in a row that he’d flinched away from his brother so severely. Warriors slowly lowered his hand to his lap but kept his eyes on Time, searching for something… possibly some sign that Time needed something from him.

“You okay? You don’t get nightmares like that often.”

Time nodded, he tried to smile… and clearly failed since Warriors looked more concerned instead of less. He owed him an explanation for his reaction, flinching away like that was… well he knew Warriors would figure it out if he gave him long enough. Still he wanted to reassure him and that was easiest done by telling him something so Time tried. He opened his mouth to say something… anything, perhaps that he was fine. Nothing came, no words… no sound… not even a whisper, just nothing. He tried again, hoping that it was just a product of the dream, not some sort of trauma reaction like he’d had happen a few times in the past- maybe the words were just jumbled up like happened more often- but no, there was still nothing.

He closed his eyes as he bowed his head, shaking his head slowly. Time knew that it would worry Warriors, the whole day had to worry him between his reactions earlier and then him not even eating dinner before going to bed. He could almost feel him watching him for something, some sign of what he needed. A gentle tug at his sleeve caught his attention and Time blinked at Warriors who crouched next to him. Warriors gave another tug on his sleeve, Time hoped that his brother figured out it was just skin contact or perhaps how close to his neck that had been. A slightly impatient look was given to him and Time finally got up.

Warriors pulled him along, across camp to where Wild was curled up against Wolfie. Wolfie opened an eye and his tail gave a small wag as he saw Warriors leading Time over. Time hesitated, standing over the two of them uncertainly. Warriors gave a small sigh before giving him a gentle push so he’d sit down. Time did so but gave his brother a slightly lost and doubtful look which earned him a reassuring smile. Time curled up with a bit of room between him and the two of them but Wolfie wasn’t going to allow that and simply grabbed his wrist before dragging it over his back. Time tensed but obligingly shuffled closer. He doubted that he would get back to sleep but the soft fur and warmth of another being against his side helped him relax.

He leaned a little heavier against Wolfie’s side and gave a small sigh, his eye closing again. He felt Wolfie rest his head against his back and drifted off again.

Time was in a dark room, it was so dark he only barely could see his own hand. He looked around but couldn’t make out any details, nothing aside from the smell that filled the room. It unnerved him when he realized what the smell was but that there was nothing that he could see that would make that smell. Rotted meat and fresh blood filled his senses, it left his head spinning and caused Time to stagger to a wall. As he touched it the ground seemed to drop, leaving him falling into a pool of water or something of that sort.

The cool water was soothing at first, easing away his aches, softening the sensation he’d been having of burning from his side where the Dead Hand had bitten him. Then it chilled further, and worse he felt smaller mouths biting at him. Turning did him no good because he could only vaguely see the bony fish under the water as they swam past him, pausing briefly to take a bite or a nibble.

Then just as Time got used to the freezing water, how it numbed his arms and legs making the pain ease away slightly, the water changed and heated. It felt like he'd jumped into one of the hot springs on Wild's Death Mountain. The whole place remained dark though and the metallic scent only grew stronger.

Something grabbed his leg and dragged him down, pulling him under the surface of the water... what he hoped was water, and Time struggled against it. He broke free from whatever had a hold of his leg as the water began to cool again. Before he could surface to take a breath a hand caught him. It pressed against his back between his shoulders, holding his armor so he couldn't struggle away easily. That did little to stop him from thrashing around to try and break free, something that kept him from noticing that the water had heated almost unbearably again.

Time saw the world start to darken around him, the room dimming around the edges even as things became colored. The last things he was aware of were the water shifting his body, the ebb and flow of it gently dragging him with it, and a warm hand on his arm pulling him up from the too cold water again.

A hand on his shoulder was shaking him. Time curled up a bit, trying to get away without moving away since he really felt drained from the nightmare. The person was insistent and their hand shifted further up his shoulder. He froze, his body tensing as his mind processed that the hand had moved closer to his neck. Whoever it was seemed to realize the mistake and moved their hand a little further from that spot, moving to his back and away from his neck or anywhere it could grab him.

“Hey, come on Old Man, you’ve got the kids worried.”

The Kids? Oh, Wind and Four. They probably hadn’t seen someone dealing with something like this before. That meant that the person trying to drag him back to awareness was probably Warriors since he still had his warm, breathing pillow. His eye opened slightly and he saw the soft grey fur and hummed softly, rubbing his cheek against it. A gentle rumble told him that the action had been noticed and Twilight wanted to move. It was only that knowledge that drove him to move. The hand shifted to his shoulder to help support him getting up but the movement and the strength of the hand as it helped started to make him slip back into his dream of the hand holding him under water but he opened his eye again and saw the blue scarf pooled on the ground next to him.

It was only as he managed to sit up with Warriors’ help that Time realized he was shaking badly. He saw how his hand was shaking hard enough that he wouldn’t be able to hold a cup of anything without spilling it. His breathing was starting to speed up but he felt a hand carefully but firmly rubbing his back. It helped, the hand was too warm to be any of the monsters he’d dreamed about, and it was familiar to him too. He buried one hand in his hair, almost pulling but not yet. Distantly he felt someone pull him against them, heard a heartbeat against his ear and the warm rumble of a familiar voice trying to pull him back to the present.

“Hey now, Time. Come on, you have to calm down!”

The sound of his name was disorienting, but it helped. The sound pulled him a little out of the panicked state he’d been falling into. The hand had settled on his arm not on his back or shoulder and Time wanted to cry in relief as he noticed that. He was relieved that his brother had figured out where he placed his hand would have an effect. The phantom feeling of bites littering his skin remained but it eased with the warmth and the steady heartbeat against his ear.

“That’s it. Come on, come back to us.” That was Sky, his voice gentle as Time opened his eye again.

Slowly he began to recognize things, the trees just outside the cave for one. The scent of cooking meat came next and it was immediately followed by the feeling of nausea so strong that he shoved away from Warriors to scramble out of the cave. He made it a few steps before he dropped to his hands and knees, dry heaving as tears started to run down his face. The scent clung to him for a moment as he struggled against the nausea.

A hand on his back startled him and Time jerked away, landing on his side, his eye wide with alarm. It took him an extra moment to recognize Warriors crouching just behind where he had been, his hand dropping to curl into the fabric of his tunic while watching him worried. Time hated that look, especially directed at him. It was a reminder of his weaknesses and how Warriors was one of the few that could see them easily. Before he could sink too deeply into self hatred a warmth pressed against his back, vibrating slightly as the wolf crooned a familiar song to him.

Somehow that song helped him settle more, it took away the lingering smell of cooking meat. Then he noticed a couple of fairies fluttering around him and Warriors. The soft brushes of their wings against his skin was soothing though the sweet sensation of their magic while they checked on him helped him more. Time relaxed without really realizing it.

“Hey, you back with us?” Warriors asked, and when Time looked he saw that Warriors’ hands were fisted so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

He wanted to answer, to say something like he was aware of them or that he’d be okay. His throat still hurt and there was some sort of chill that had settled over him. It was familiar despite his wish that it wasn’t. The ache came from all the times he had nearly screamed while dealing with the nightmares, and the chill came from the memory he’d dealt with the day before. Well not dealt with so much as the memory he’d relived. That was likely also the cause of the nightmares.

At last he nodded, shifting to try and get up despite the pain his mind gave him which he knew was not really there.  As Time moved he noticed how Warriors released his grip on his tunic as though he was about to help him get up, but how he returned them there. Time frowned as he lowered himself back to the ground, certain that he would probably need help standing if the pain he thought he felt was going to stay for the rest of the day. Sitting there he studied Warriors in confusion and concern. Warriors seemed to notice it and looked like he wanted to roll his eyes.

“You’ve reacted badly the last few times that Warriors… well pretty much any of us have tried to touch you.”

Oh. That explained why Warriors was acting like he was. Time groaned and rolled onto his back, his arm draping over his eyes. Wolfie rolled, lying partly on top of him, and licked his hands and chin and cheeks. Time huffed and lowered his arm to press his hand against Wolfie’s muzzle. Wolfie’s tail wagged and he gave Time’s cheek a final lick before getting up and pouncing on whoever it was that had spoken a moment ago, it looked like possibly Four.

‘Nightmares.’ Time signed before returning his arm to drape over his eyes.

“Those didn’t seem like nightmares to me.” Hyrule commented, sitting close to where Time was lying when he looked.

Seeing the soft look on the boy’s face and how Legend was watching him with concern as he sat next to Hyrule was enough for Time to go back to pretending he didn’t want to see anyone. The softness and care was enough to make him cry if he wasn’t careful and Time really didn’t want to tell them what was making him cry because that usually meant whoever it was got showered with even more affection.

“You don’t usually react to nightmares like that. It seemed different… more like how my uncle used to react to some things.”

It was true, this was not how he reacted to normal nightmares. Of course they had not just been normal nightmares. It left him wondering though, how much would that comment tell Warriors? Time knew it would tell his brother something about what was happening and that Warriors was the one who knew best what to do to help with the situation. He just couldn’t talk about it, his voice was frozen and his hands shook whenever he thought about trying to find the words to explain it.

A quick glance at Warriors showed that the other hero was watching him closely. There was some sort of puzzle that he was working through, and he likely had just been given the pieces he had been missing because of Legend’s comment. Time’s free hand started to toy with the grass next to him, he wished it was Wolfie’s fur or some flowers that he could braid because that would give him something better to focus on than the look he was receiving from Warriors… or the ones he was being given by Hyrule and Legend.

“Time… may I touch you?” Warriors asked, moving closer though he kept his hands carefully away from Time.

Time blinked, surprised, but nodded. He sat up, carefully supporting himself with his hands behind him. Warriors moved slowly, reaching out and making sure that Time could see the motions he was making.. could see his hands and where he was reaching. Time wondered why for a moment, but then he realized what Warriors likely figured out. His ears burned, no doubt turning red, and his hands grabbed Warriors’ shoulder and arm tighter than he’d meant to. 

Warriors was kind enough to say nothing about it as he helped Time stand up. Time felt oddly shaky and wondered why until he realized it was an effect of the stress his mind had been under with the memory. He wondered why he remembered it now instead of at the Ranch or even during one of their previous explorations, the only thing he could think of was that damned shackle on the floor of that room.

“Sometimes, after the war, some of the men would remember something awful when they were someplace safe. Other times they would see something and it would bring it all crashing back, there is no shame in it. It’s just the mind trying to accept whatever happened. The key is they were usually with someone that was able to keep them safe… that could hear about what happened and help as they processed what they forgot because it was too much for them to bear.” Warriors looked intently at Time’s face and Time wanted to go back to lying on the ground while hating that his brother felt unable to touch him. “There is no shame in that, in needing help to be able to move past whatever it was.”

Time felt his face heat now too, felt the gazes of the others on him. He closed his eye, unwilling to see the anger or frustration on their faces… or worse yet the pity as they realized he had blocked something out so completely that it left him like this once it came back. They likely thought he was a fool or weak… or simply unfit as a leader, something he felt without his voice and without being able to simply be touched without some sort of warning.

“My era calls it battle fatigue. The mind needs help to process awful things, I needed help with some of my memories.” Wild shared, pausing somewhere near the entrance to the cave.

Time felt relieved because he felt horrible having just run from the cave at the smell of him cooking, and if Wild was willing to be near him like this it meant that he hadn’t ruined that at least. Cautiously he glanced over while seeing Wild make the signs for the issue. It felt familiar to him, as though he’d dealt with it before just not necessarily for himself. Abruptly he remembered a few soldiers that had been at his side during some of the fighting who had suffered from it. It felt off though, and he wondered if maybe that was wrong and he was experiencing something different. Warriors nodding as he moved closer to Time, shifting his arm to rest across his shoulders, reassured him a little.

“Exactly so, the mind protects itself from things it can’t deal with. Eventually something can trigger the memory and then it is able to be processed by the person with the help of others.”

“So we can help Time deal with this?” Wind asked hopefully.

Time looked at the youngest Link, wondering how much of the conversation he’d heard. To the side he saw Sky join them, standing next to Legend who crossed his arms in mild annoyance since he was still watching Time closely. That meant all of them were there to see and hear whatever Warriors had to say since Twilight had finally released Four and returned to normal. Four tilted his head thoughtfully, his eyes shimmering red and purple for a moment.

“Wouldn’t Malon have made him feel safe enough to begin processing it?” Four asked.

“Possibly, but I think this might be better. We have a bit more experience with this type of thing, you know?” Legend pointed out, before Warriors or the others could say anything.

“True, we all know some things are too horrific to really share with someone who hasn’t dealt with something similar.” Hyrule agreed. He smiled softly and gave Time a gentle hug, his magic helped increase the feeling of safety and peace that the touch gave Time. “Can you tell us about it?”

Warriors shook his head, making Time feel even worse since he couldn’t even try to answer the question himself. “He hasn’t been able to speak since last night.”

“Actually, I think it was since we were at that abandoned lab yesterday.” Sky stated, sending a cautious look towards Time as though he felt bad for saying that.

The others all looked at Time and he felt like shrinking, he really wished that was an ability he had… to be able to shrink and hide until this all went away. He looked at the ground while trying to ignore the eyes on him again. As he did so he missed the way they all shared a look and mutually agreed to try and help him with this. It was Twilight walking over and gently pushing Hyrule over to Legend and Sky again that drew his attention. Of course when Twilight casually shoved Warriors out of the way and ducked under his arm that caused Time to give a small smile. It became a silent laugh when Warriors turned and glared at Twilight.

“What was that for?”

“You’re stopping him from getting some food. Remember he didn’t have dinner yesterday.”

The feeling of Twilight’s fur pelt under his fingers helped, it was something so different from the stone or skin or liquid of his dreams and memories that some part of his mind felt like he could relax some. It was also nothing like the tunic that he’d worn or that Warriors wore which helped him calm more.  He would need to let them know that skin contact was not a good thing for now. It kept making him think of the hands grabbing him and preventing him from escaping.

“Wild, did you make the fruit crepes like I asked?”

“Yep, I just finished them!” Wild replied to Twilight, using his slate to make the plate appear.

Twilight nodded, and half dragged Time over to a tree near the pool where the fairies were playing again. He could probably feel how much Time was leaning against him, needing the help to stand and walk. It left him feeling ashamed that he needed so much help when he wasn’t even hurt. Twilight didn't seem to care and simply grabbed the plate from Wild as well as a bowl of something else before sitting next to Time, turned so Time can’t see or smell whatever is in the bowl. Time felt grateful since he knew that Twilight ate more meat than he did and he simply could not even bear the thought of seeing it be eaten just then. Time noticed how the others were watching them until Twilight paused eating to give them a pointed look.

Legend apparently understood since he huffed and dragged Hyrule over to grab some food from Wild as well. Wild handed them the same thing he’d given to Twilight which made Time feel… both happy and a bit odd. He looked at his plate in mild confusion but started eating. He wondered if Wild had started to make the crepes for him before he’d stumbled out of the cave or not and if so how someone had known that today would be a no meat day so early. Honestly he was grateful for it, even if he suspected that his habit of not wanting meat after nightmares had been noticed by Warriors or Twilight.

“So I hope you don’t mind if we stay here and do some chores. We have a pile of menting and washing that Legend has been complaining about. You know how he gets when the mending doesn’t get washed.”

“Hey! I’m not the one who won’t wear something that isn’t washed. That’s Warriors, he refuses to go anywhere without having his socks washed if he can keep them clean.”

“Sure, sure, keep telling everyone that. I’m sure it helps you sleep at night if you believe that.”

Time knew for sure that Legend had already finished most of the mending and that it was all pretty much washed. He felt his eyes burning a little as he realized that the others were trying to make things easier on him since he had been doing so poorly with the memory returning. He noticed that Wild was watching him for an answer and nodded, giving a small smile of gratitude. Seeing Wild nod back he turned his attention back to his food. It tasted better now, somehow that simple action from the others to give him a day to recover from the mental stress made the meal taste even better than it had.

As he ate, Time did his best to ignore the way the kids were bickering and fighting. Hyrule joined him nearer the fairies though he kept a little distance since he was eating the actual meal Wild had made for everyone else. His ears twitched when he heard Wind make an indignant noise before the scuffling sound of him trying to tackle someone, likely Legend since he didn’t hear anyone yelp or fall. Probably some comment about Wind’s age, the kid was too easily set off by those comments, not that he had been much better when… well when he had been around Wind when he’d been younger. Time finished his meal and sat there watching the fairies for a few moments before he heard someone, Warriors by the timing of the steps, approaching.

“Sprite?” Warriors’ voice was gentle.

Time looked at Warriors, seeing that he had some paper and a pencil. Time recognized the paper as having been taken from the back of one of Warriors’ journals, his brother had done that often enough during the war for him to recognize it now, and the pencil being the one he used to sketch out pictures for his sister whenever they’d had the chance for a break. It made him wonder briefly why he was being offered them before he realized that he wanted him to share what happened, what had him so upset.

Despite the fact that he wanted to give those answers in many ways, Time just didn’t want to think about it. He reluctantly accepted both things but sat there staring blankly at them for a moment. Warriors seemed to understand though the slump of his shoulders spoke volumes about how much he’d hoped it would help. After giving him a small nod Warriors turned to head over to where Wind and Legend were wrestling, allowing Time to stare at the fairies playing for a little longer.

“He’s worried. After he helped you move over to next to me you kept tensing and twitching from whatever nightmare you were having. After Wild started cooking we couldn’t get you to wake until breakfast was almost done. It was like you were lost to whatever you were seeing.” Twilight’s voice was gentle, but the explanation hit Time harder than a strike from an Iron Knuckle.

Time curled a little, his knees moving closer to his chest and he set aside the pencil and papers so he wouldn’t mess them up. His hand slipped into his hair giving it a small tug before Twilight’s hand gently pulled it away and slid his fingers between Time’s so they were holding hands. The hands rested on the ground between them while Time dealt with the suddenly overwhelming fear and guilt at the nightmare and how he expected the others to react to it. At last he tugged his hand free from Twilight’s so he could sign since he didn’t want to think about it longer than he had to.

‘Torture. Dreamed of torture.’

Twilight was silent, seemingly uncertain of how to help with what Time had shared. At last he shuffled a little closer and leaned against Time, grabbing his hand again. The weight of another person against him reached the part of Time that wanted the comfort, that wanted to be held despite not being able to really accept it yet. It reminded him that he would need to explain some of what he remembered happening, he owed it to them to explain part of it. Before he could work up the courage to share any of it with them Twilight shifted, using his shoulder to nudge Time for his attention.

“You don’t have to share anything that you don’t want to, not with us. We know some things are… difficult to speak about.”

Time’s throat felt tight, he wondered if his voice would work or not because he wanted to thank Twilight for that reminder. He nearly tried anyways but the soft look Sky gave him as he settled on Time’s other side stopped that thought entirely. The weight of both of them leaning against his sides made Time realize that he was shaking a little, it was gradually slowing but he had missed it entirely until that moment. Their care also seemed to warm some part of him that had been chilled and numbed since the previous day, it left him calming and slowly the tension and chill was being replaced with an odd warm exhaustion that wasn’t caused by being tired. Time rested his cheek against Sky’s head anyways and closed his eye, content to drift for the moment.

“Would you three knock it off?” Four’s voice was a little sharper than usual and that drew Time from the momentary contentment back to the present.

He looked over and saw Wild crouched over a pot to make something, while glancing anxiously towards where the other three had been wrestling. He frowned and glanced around to see if he could spot Hyrule, spotting the boy curled up next to Sky, holding onto his arm and watching the fairies over the pool with wide eyed delight. Time smiled a bit as he saw that and absently noted that the fairies were collecting flowers for something.

“He started it!” Legend snapped pointing at Wind who stuck his tongue out at the veteran. Legend went to lunge at him but Warriors caught him before he got very far.

“I didn’t ask who started it. I’m finishing it unless you want to make Time get up.” Four’s threat seemed to do the trick.

The three who Four had been scolding looked very contrite as they glanced towards Time. They shuffled over, finding places near him to sit. Time thought about leaving things alone, about keeping his memory to himself, but he felt like he needed to share what he remembered, at least part of that. All he could hope was that doing so would give him a measure of peace. With a small tug he freed his hand from Twilight’s and grabbed the paper and pencil.

He hesitated, the remembered terror starting to draw him back to the nightmares, but the warmth of Sky and Twilight pressed against his sides helped him focus. Hoping that it would help him calm and focus he sketched the room, the hands with their sharp nails reaching for the sky and the small dip to where he’d been chained drawn out in careful detail, even the chain and shackle he’d had around his wrists had been drawn. Once he had everything he could draw there on the paper he moved another blank page to the top and started sketching something else. 

He drew the monster with it’s bloated body and dark sightless eyes, he drew the grin and the sharp stubby arms, it was next to one of the hands and with it there it was easy to see where the hands came from, that they were just another part of the creature. Time had to stop once while he was drawing it because his hands had begun to shake with remembered terror, but once it was done he simply wrote ‘Dead Hand’ at the top of the page.

After a quick check to make sure it looked right Time held both pages out to Warriors, he knew his brother would put things together quickest and understand at least part of what happened. Sure enough Warriors looked at the room first and his expression darkened but it turned to a purely horrified look when he saw the monster on the second page. Time watched as Four and Wind tried to look at the papers but Warriors held them where neither could. Legend saw the monster and gave Time a worried look which said plenty about what he’d figured out about the monster.

“Was- Was this what you dealt with in your memory?”

Time nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little and he closed his eye again, his cheek once more pressing against Sky’s head. He debated leaving it at that but felt that sharing more might help.

‘It attacks by biting and ripping parts off with its teeth. First the hands grab whatever is there then it appears and bites, the hands hardly let go when it bites. It kept grabbing my throat, or my arm or leg and all I had was a simple tunic.’

“No wonder you didn’t react well to being touched. I’m sorry Time.”

‘You didn’t know.’ Time paused before deciding to explain a bit more about the memory. ‘I was chained in the middle of the hands.’

Warriors held the other picture up and turned it so the others could see it. Time nodded, he noticed how Sky looked a little angry at the sight, and how Twilight paled a bit, his hands clenching into fists. All of the others seemed upset but not angry about it. Then they noticed the hands and they sent him a curious look but Warriors frowned at the papers before showing them the other one. Seeing it they all looked horrified as well.

‘The chain was just long enough to almost get away but the hands kept catching me and grabbing me.’ His hands were starting to shake again and the phantoms of the bites were making themselves known again too.

“Easy, little hero. Take a moment to breathe.”

Time tried, but he also knew he was starting to panic again. He felt Wind climb into his lap and looked down at the youngest hero. Wind was leaning against his chest, just sitting there and not grabbing his hand or hugging him or anything more than giving him something to help focus on the present.

“Hey, just take a moment. Can you breathe with me?” Sky asked, then he exaggerated his breathing.

Time did his best to follow that pattern. It took him a few moments before his breathing calmed, and a few more before the shaking and pain eased again. It was only then that he noticed how he was hugging Wind tightly, and he quickly released the younger hero. Wind turned then and wrapped his arms around Time to give him a hug. After a couple of moments Wind moved to sit next to Four again.

Everything about how the other heroes were being considerate but still showing him love and support helped pick apart the anxiety and hopelessness that he’d failed to notice. The tiny hands of the fairies in his hair helped to unknot more of that tangled mess of darkness that Time had missed completely. He simply sat there drinking in the comforting warmth and absently brushed the back of his hand against his cheek. As he moved it away he noticed the darkened spot on his gauntlet and realized that he was crying.

Not long later Time felt Twilight move away from him and the tree, it left him feeling a little bereft until Twilight turned and pulled him close. Time buried his face into the fur pelt and curled his hands into the fabric of Twilight’s tunic. It wasn’t the same as Wolfie’s fur but it offered the same warmth. Soon after, Time recognized Warriors’ arms wrapping around him too and leaned a little into him. The others started moving around, drifting away from the three of them while Time cried against Twilight’s shoulder. The knowledge that they would be close enough he could call them back but that they were giving them some privacy left Time feeling grateful for them and how much they cared.

“Go ahead, Time, it’s okay to let it out. You’re safe, we’ve got you. I promise you, we’ve got you.”

Time nodded and just let the tears come. He lost track of time while he cried, the tears and release they gave so needed though he didn’t realize it until he was done and just resting tiredly against Twilight. After a few moments Warriors shifted, no doubt his knees were aching by now and so were Twilight’s. Time huffed a little laugh as he shifted away from Twilight and leaned back against Warriors. His brother grunted but guided him back to resting against the tree again. Time didn’t feel his hair brush against his neck like usual which told him the fairies had braided it while he’d been crying on Twilight.

Exhausted he settled against the tree and glanced at Warriors and Twilight before smiling a bit more. White Heathers were tucked in Warriors’ hair with Gladiolus made into a flower crown resting on top of his head. Time found the meanings accurate for him, he was watchful and generous. Twilight had White Heather and Violets tucked into his hair, the meanings of watchfulness and faithfulness very accurate for him. Seeing the way the fairies were bobbing over the water, clearly pleased with their work and happy to have given that respite while he was dealing with his emotional wounds told Time plenty about how worried they had been.

He felt more whole now, the soft sweet feeling of the fairy magic helped soothe some of the hurts away as he looked at the two still with him. Somehow Time felt like he might be able to speak now, that he could share something with his words unlike earlier or the previous day.

“Was gagged, and chained. Could hardly move, couldn’t speak, just hope it wouldn’t reach me but kept forgetting to curl up tight enough. Hurt so much.” Time’s voice sounded odd to him, as though whatever stole his words away was still having some effect on him. Still his hand dropped to his side where he kept feeling the bite and he looked at Warriors and Twilight. “Eventually he came… then there was lightning and fire and ice over and over. Freezing and burning the bites.”

More tears appeared, running down his face as he spoke. Time raised one hand to hide from them with but Twilight gently caught his wrist while Warriors used his scarf to wipe the tears away. He felt his breath hitch a little when Warriors pressed his forehead to his own and he was being given such a soft look that he felt some sort of warmth spread through him.

“You survived. Yes it was horrible, and yes we will have to help you be able to stand us touching you again, but Time… Sprite, you survived.”

Those words helped, Time felt like the weight he’d been carrying for the past day had eased greatly. He closed his eye and nodded in relief. He had survived. Twilight slid his arm around Time’s shoulders and pulled him against his side, his hand very gently rubbing Time’s shoulder through his tunic.

“Rest, Time, we’ll be here. If we ever see that thing…” Twilight trailed off then he growled softly. “If I see it I’m gonna tear it apart.”

Time nodded then he tried to sit up a bit again but Twilight kept a firm but gentle hold of him. “Wars? It… it isn’t…”

“It happens to everyone Sprite, even I had to deal with it some. Having memories come back like that happens. It’s going to be all right though because we won’t leave you to deal with it alone.”

Time hummed and nodded, finally slumping properly against Twilight, his eye closing as he did so. The exhaustion from the day, from his nightmares and all drained his energy so completely that he was asleep again before he knew it. Luckily this time his sleep was relatively dreamless, and when Time woke up again he was back inside the cave, tucked safely in his bedroll with Wolfie acting as his pillow and Warriors writing nearby.

“Writing Lydia?” Time asked softly, his voice hardly carrying to Warriors.

Warriors had apparently been listening for him to wake up or to speak or something since he immediately set aside his writing and turned to face Time. A wide smile spread across his face.

“You know she’ll want to hear that I got into trouble by falling in a fairy pond.”

Time blinked a little confused but slowly sat up while looking around. It seemed the three of them were alone inside the cave and Warriors’ boots were near the fire, upside down to dry out. Time couldn’t help but snort softly at that, trying to spare Warriors being laughed at yet again. Warriors pouted at him before his relieved smile won again.

“So the others are outside, Wild insisted on cooking out there so you could rest peacefully in here.”

“Please tell me he isn’t feeling guilty too?”

“Sorry, but he did notice that the smell of what he was making earlier was what caused you to get sick.”

“I just woke up from a dream where I was being attacked by Skullfish in a room that smelled like blood, okay?”

“Um Sprite… what is a Skullfish?”

“They are fish that are mostly bones and try to eat whatever is in the water with them. They are pretty easy to kill if you have a weapon or something that works in water.”

“So let me get this straight, you had a memory of a creature that eats people alive yesterday.” Time nodded, absently noting that he hadn’t missed too much time due to the memory and nightmares. “Then you had a nightmare about it again, I guessed. As though that wasn’t enough then you had a different nightmare about a different monster trying to do the same thing?”

Well when he put it like that… why was Wolfie giving him that look? Time was about to say that it wasn’t that bad when he noticed that Legend had entered the cave at some point and was now shaking his head.

“We all thought my life was a mess. Really Old Man, you have all the monsters that like to eat, don’t you?” Time tilted his head trying to figure out how to respond to that. Legend turned to talk to whoever had been following him. “Hey Wild, no meat for the Old Man for a few days. He’s been having nightmares about being eaten.”

Time wanted to argue against that but he just couldn’t because it was true. He perked up when Hyrule pushed Legend aside and walked closer carrying a mug of something that smelled sweet. He eagerly took it and took a sip. Giving a pleased hum he took a larger drink which made Hyrule laugh.

“Okay, what is that? You wouldn’t tell me while you were making it and I want to know.”

“It’s hot chocolate that is made by fairies, they add a lot of mint and other herbs as well as some of their magic. It makes it really sweet and is saved for days that are really special or where someone really needs it. I’m guessing that Time has had it before.”

Time grinned and nodded. “Fairy cocoa. That’s what the Kokiri usually called it. It was always given on mid-winter day.”

“So, can we touch you now?” Time jumped a bit as Four asked the question. The smallest hero was giving him a slightly hopeful look as though he’d been wanting to give a hug or something for the last little while.

Time paused to think about it and nodded. “Avoid touching my neck and don’t touch my skin with your nails or if your hands are cold and it should be fine for now.”

As soon as he said that Time found himself with his arms full of the others, Warriors off to the side after having rescued his mug before he could drop or spill any of it. Hyrule, Legend, and Four quickly released him and hurried back towards the entrance to the cave looking a bit sheepish. Time took his mug back, still a little confused.

“We were worried about you. Not just you being unable to speak but how easily you seemed to zone out on us and how much you were shaking. We all know it won’t be easy for you to deal with it but we wanted to reassure you that we are here and that we care even though you weren’t really able to accept it.”

“Oh.” That seemed too little for everything they gave him. Time blushed and looked down at his hands. “Thank you.”

“You should know by now that we care about you.”

“I do, it’s just…”

Warriors sighed and set his hand carefully on Time’s shoulder giving it an affectionate squeeze. Time sighed softly and leaned against him for a moment before Wild entered the cave with a wide smile.

“Time, I hope you’re hungry. I made something for you to eat.” 

Wild brought over a plate with some skewers of mushrooms and veggies on it. There was also a skewer of apples that had honey drizzled over it. Time grabbed the plate, pausing to give Wild a quick hug and a kiss to the temple before settling against the wall, angled so he could see the others. His time sense told him that it was a little after the others should have eaten dinner but not too late yet. 

Sky cautiously poked his head in and gave a bright smile when he saw that Time was awake and eating. “You’re awake! I was hoping you would be willing to listen to me trying a new song. It’s one Legend has been teaching me, he said it was sung to him by his uncle when he was very little.”

Warriors laughed and sat next to Time, watching as the others crept into the cave again. Wind hurried over and curled up against Time’s side while Sky sat across from him with his harp and a hopeful look. Time chuckled while nodding. He ate while listening to the song, noting with amusement that it was very familiar to him. It was a song he’d sung to Malon a couple of times… in each of the timelines. Twilight clearly recognized it since he was watching Sky in silent wonder. With only the music of a harp it sounded a little off, but Time nodded with a smile when Sky turned an anxious look towards him. Sky smiled happily and continued playing even after he finished the song.

Before long Time found himself trapped by Warriors leaning against his shoulder, Legend and Hyrule curled up together using his leg as a pillow, Wind curled up against his other side, and Four using his other leg to rest his head on. Time gave Twilight and Wild a pleading look, silently asking for help getting free from the others but the two of them only laughed at him and started talking about the things they saw while they had been exploring. Without thinking about it Time started to play with Legend’s hair, gently tugging it into a simple braid so it would be easier for him to deal with once he woke up later. 

He looked over the cave and smiled as he grabbed his cocoa again. The drink seemed to taste even better than it had, and he decided that it was because of the amount of love that filled the cave. Sure they had dark moments but they would always be there for one another and he was so incredibly grateful for it. Looking at Sky he grinned and hummed along with the song he was playing since if he kept thinking about how amazing the boys were he would end up crying and worrying them.

“Warriors said that you’ve fought that thing before?” Four asked.

“Hmm? Oh… yeah.” Time eyed Four cautiously wondering what he was going to say.

Four nodded and settled against Time a bit more comfortably. “Well if it shows itself white we are here it will never have a chance to touch you.”

“I know.” Time nodded.

“Also we’ll help you deal with it… no matter what.” Four added, peering up at him for a moment, no doubt wanting to make sure Time knew that for sure.

“As long as we have a say in it.” Sky added, his voice quiet but firm.

“I… I know. It’s stupid… I thought you might blame me or be angry with me for that.”

It is stupid, but most times horrible events leave us with stupid little fears like that. I know I was afraid that Sun would blame me for her falling. She didn’t but sometimes, even now, I feel like she might change her mind or that she is just being nice.”

“Well I can say this, nothing is going to make any of us think less of each other.” Twilight stated, cutting into the conversation. Time and Sky both sent a startled look at him before smiling and nodding. “Now, I think that’s enough chatter for the day. I know you slept most of it Time but I think you ought to sleep more and Sky you said you’d take the first watch so Wild and I are gonna get some rest too.”

“Okay, sleep well you two.”

“Good night, Rancher, you too Wild.”

Time sat there thinking for several minutes before Warriors stirred and pressed an elbow against his side. Absently Time realized he hadn’t felt the phantom pain from the bites the entire time he had been awake.

“Sleep.”

“Sitting up?”

“Yep. Comfy.”

Time chuckled at Warriors’ answer and nodded, kissing the top of his head before resting his cheek against it. “Okay, sleep well.”

He sent Sky a smile and finally closed his eyes to go to sleep. The warmth of the boys curled against him was enough to allow their words to follow him back into his dreams. Maybe he would wake up sore and be teased about being an old man, but maybe not. Whatever the case he knew he could trust them and tell them about his fears without doubting they might think less of him for them. Besides, if they ever did find a Dead Hand he had no doubt that it wouldn’t last long against the others… especially not with his fear of them known.

Time was chained to the floor in the middle of the room, pale arms reaching towards the ceiling all around him. His throat felt tight as he saw them and he immediately tried to back away from the ones in front of him, momentarily forgetting about the arm and hand behind him. The sound of the hand moving through the air caused him to turn and see it reaching for him, as it got closer a shield intercepted it. The shield was familiar, right down to a singed spot on the inside, and Time looked at Warriors to see the expression of fierce protectiveness on his face. It made him feel safe even here in the middle of these clawed hands, and he relaxed a bit.

Two pairs of hands gently touched his own, they were warm and careful as they picked the locks on the shackles keeping him trapped in the middle of the room. As he looked he noticed that Wind was watching him concerned while Legend was glaring off to the side, silently daring the monster to get any closer to them. Legend sent a glance towards him before huffing and holding out a hand to help him up. Time smiled and accepted the help from both Legend and Wind, both of them kind enough to say nothing as he stumbled a bit once he was standing.

The familiar groan of an undead being came from behind him and Time turned to see the flash of the Master Sword striking the Dead Hand. Sky was glaring at the spot where it disappeared, but when he noticed that Time was watching him he smiled at him and gave a firm nod. Time nodded back and rubbed his wrists a bit. Another pair of hands pressed against them for a moment, a slight tingling feeling came as the slight damage done was healed completely. He looked at Hyrule who gave him a reassuring smile.

A pained cry from the Dead Hand drew his attention back to the area around him and Time saw that each of the others had dealt with the hands reaching for him. Then he noticed the grey shape of Wolfie moving around to grab one of the hands which had been reaching for Four. Four approached Time with a sword in his hands and behind him Time could see Wild making good use of a bomb arrow to take out more of the hands that were trying to appear.

The Dead Hand seemed to finally give up on escaping from them after that, especially when Wolfie bit down hard. The sound of whatever the thing had for bones breaking was oddly comforting since it meant that it couldn’t hurt them… not without one of them doing worse to it. Time looked at the sword that Four offered him and smiled a bit, it was a familiar blade but an unusual one. The blue and green blade seemed to glow slightly in the dim light of the room.

“Your turn.” Four said as he moved aside once Time took the sword with one hand.

“Well?”

“Are you sure?”

Time looked over his shoulder, noticing that he was once again in his armor. The armor and tunic were clean and gleamed like new, matching the way the armor belonging to the Deity behind him looked. His throat felt tight as he looked at him. Kishin’s expression was reassuring, but it seemed less so compared to the warm hand on his shoulder and the gentle squeeze that it gave.

“You can do this.”

Time paused to think about it then he nodded while smiling. “I know. They helped.”

“They did, but even without them you can do this. You never have to do it alone again.”

Those words meant so much more than he could even begin to say so Time simply nodded at him and said, “Thank you.”

Kishin nodded, then he turned so Time could see the monster. He could see that now it seemed much smaller and weaker than it had before. Perhaps it was that he was in armor now, or more likely it was because he knew that he would be helped if he needed it. It didn’t really matter why. Time took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the sword and struck, it vanished and with it the dungeon and the chains. He turned and grinned as he recognized where his mind had taken them. He took a step then paused to look back at the Deity.

“You know, anywhere that was my home is yours too. I would be happy to have my friend as a guest.”

“I know, but for now you need rest.”

Time grinned over his shoulder at the Deity before continuing on his way. He needed to meet with Saria after all. She was always so happy when he brought the boys to visit.

The next morning when Time woke up he was indeed stiff and a bit sore, but he felt completely at peace. The others seemed to notice that and while they were still very careful to make sure he knew they were going to touch him they all hugged him before breakfast. After that they went on their way, Wild still wanted to show them a few places in his era’s Hyrule if they could find them before the next portal appeared. 

As they walked, Time spared a thought that he would like to introduce these boys to Saria, he thought she would enjoy having more people to fuss over… and it might relieve her some to know that he had them to watch over him and keep him safe too. Then again maybe he would keep them to himself for just a little while longer, they did save him from his nightmare after all.

[battle-subway-ghost]

☕

Honestly, having chronic nightmares isn't the worst, usually it just ends up being annoying. I'd like it a lot more if my nightmares would stop taking inspiration from the worst moments of my life and twisting them into the most terrifying things imaginable.

Like, c'mon. It already happened, i'm over it. You don't have to remix it to make it worse just to make me wake up screaming at 4 in the morning. Fucking lame.

[soulsperceived]

drowning

initially written april 23, 2020. a character study of the fear stein quoted in the manga. posting this along with other things from old places just to have some of my writing samples up. this one is fairly dark, please be warned.

drabble takes place after his partnership with spirit dissolved.

please heed the content warnings: nightmares, night terrors, hallucinations, sleep paralysis, psychosis.

"I was scared of the kind of person I was turning into. Although as long as I was having fun, I didn't really care. So that's why I needed it. Not an annoying system put up by a king to serve his own self interests... but a system set up by a god without arrogance."

Losing awareness of reality was the scariest part of his daily life. No longer did he have a grip on even the most basic of facts. He never did, when nightfall came. His own voice was foreign on his tongue, his thoughts swarming around less concrete than they were furious and invasive hornets, his skin a fake elastic covering that was so restrictive he wanted nothing more than to tear it apart and liberate himself.

The darkened ceiling above his bed was the only thing he knew for certain. The shadows dancing on the walls turned into demons that threatened his life, but he could not focus on them or their harsh whispers lest he dive even more into his broken psyche.

There was no comfort here. The warrior that drove the monsters just far away enough for him to know they were not a threat and comforted him after it was all over was gone. It had been pried out of his grasp so forcefully he stumbled backwards and fell flat on his back, left to try to fight this battle alone.

To lose this battle alone.

Was there a point in fighting?

"Give in," they urged, forcing him down into a black lake until his lungs caught fire and filled with smoke. The ceiling was gone. "Give in."

He reached out for his partner, searching desparately for something to hold onto, but the warmth he sought was slipping away.

"No," he choked out, the bitter taste of the inky water passing through his lips. "Don't go. Come back. Please come back."

The telepathic response that would usually come in the form of a comforting voice and radiant light did not return for him. His weapon, his only connection to real life, was nowhere to be found. The familiar wavelength that he had relied on for so long to fall back on had disappeared. It left him walking the tightrope of sanity with no safety net, and he had tripped over his own two feet and taken a plunge into absolute hell.

The monsters' arms grabbed at him, painfully wrapping around his waist and his arms and his torso and pulling him further and further under no matter how much he thrashed.

"I need you, Spirit!" he screamed, exhaustion zapping the strength away from his muscles and making it that much harder to stay above the surface. "I need you! Come back, damn it! Come back! I can't do this alone! Don't let this happen to me!"

With still no rescue, he was dragged into the depths, his fingers that grasped at nothing the last to go.

And just like that, it was quiet. Nothingness surrounded him, deafening silence taking away even the ability to ponder what he had become.

Everything was gone. It was by no means a complete relief, not like Spirit, but it was better than his struggle.

Perhaps madness wasn't so bad, after all.

[moonglowmuses]

adam had a tendency to steal the blankets when he was sleeping next to his boyfriend. it was a habit that he hadn't started to work on just yet. eventually, he told himself. tonight, he'd been sleeping relatively well. that was when he started to hear larry MUMBLING in his slumber. "hun?" adam coaxed, reaching out to gently rouse larry from his tortured sleep. "you were having a nightmare. are you all right?" adam asked before he paused. "do you want to talk about it?"

@lcvenderhcze

[illbringthechaosmagic]

Feeling Safe / Comfort Prompts [tarnishedxknight] (from Basch) “You can go back to sleep. It's safe.”

@tarnishedxknight

There was a slight whimper that left Wanda's lips at the words Basch spoke. She had awoken from a nightmare, her heart racing while her body shook. She had been lucky to have the other there by her side, though she still found herself struggling to calm herself for a good moment or two. Curling up beside Basch, her head resting against his chest, she peered up at him and sighed. "I'm not sure I can sleep just yet... is it ok if we cuddle a little?"

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Remember....

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 6. Mind Control, 23. Begging, 24. Hunted Down, 25. Nightmares, Alt. 11. Suffocation, Alt. 29. Prison Fandom: Marvel, Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, f!reader Summary: When reactivated while infiltrating a HYDRA base, the Winter Soldier is now on the hunt for the two people Bucky cares most for in this world. Word Count: 2171 TW: Character Death (or is it...?), Nightmares, Mind Control, Choking, Hunted Down, Chased Notes: A huge thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for the ask that inspired this! 🥰 Also thank you so much @loverhymeswith for beta reading for me! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

The snow had just begun to fall once more as The Asset entered the woods. Around him, the wild underbrush jutted out through blankets of undisturbed frost, and the bare trees stood like shadows against the moonlight. Anyone else may have paused to take in this haunting beauty, and yet, he stalked forward without the slightest hesitation. Beauty and nature meant nothing to him, especially on a night like tonight. Because tonight, the Winter Soldier was on a mission.

He continued deeper into the woods, his steady stride never wavering as he tracked his prey. Two SHIELD agents had infiltrated the base he had been guarding and, as they fled into the woods, his handlers ordered him to terminate them. For just a second, there was the slightest hitch in his march as a thought tickled at the back of his mind: He couldn’t remember anything before the order. It was as if time hadn’t existed until that moment.

But the thought disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and his steadfast pursuit continued. It didn’t matter anyway. He was made to follow commands and nothing else held any importance to him. So, even if this one order was the only memory he had, that was enough.

The Asset reached a small clearing in the trees and paused, listening intently to the silent landscape around him as his eyes scanned the area for any indication of where his prey had gone.

To his left, there was a set of heavy boot tracks imprinted into the snow and the underbrush had been haphazardly pushed aside leading in a clear path. Small splatters of blood stood out against the pure white canvas further illuminating the trail. It was all so blatantly obvious that even someone with absolutely no training would be able to spot it. It was the sort of trail left by either an amateur or someone deliberately attempting to draw his attention. 

To his right, however, the snow had barely been disturbed to the point he had to kneel in order to truly see anything in the pale moonlight. And even then, only the faintest of markings could be made out in the densely packed snow, boot prints that could have only been made with the gentlest of care. 

Most hunters would take one look at the first trail and charge after the prey in that direction. Whatever had gone that way was apparently hurt, possibly to the point of not being able to mask their escape route. However, the Winter Soldier was no ordinary hunter and he instantly recognized the trails for what they were. The pair of agents had split up and they were trying to draw him towards the stronger of the two. 

He stood and resumed his hunt—taking the path to the right.

Though they had escaped before he was able to get more than a glance at them, The Asset had identified the agents as a man and a woman. The man was taller, broader, and most assuredly stronger than his companion. In fact, he may even pose a challenge to The Asset in hand-to-hand combat, something that he had rarely encountered. 

However, everyone had a weakness. And by the way the man had shielded the woman and aided in her escape into the woods, it was clear that she could very well be that weakness. By tracking her down, The Asset would not only be able to take out the easier target first, but if he captured her, he would have leverage over the man. A leverage he could use to take out the man as well.

Suddenly, The Asset picked up the faint sound of panting up ahead and he lengthened his stride. Within a few moments, he caught a glimpse of the woman through the trees as she hurried as quickly as she could while still creating those faintest of footprints. However, she must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye because her head whirled in his direction and their eyes locked across the snowy woodland.

They both froze in place as they held one another’s gaze. And slowly, her wide-eyed panicked expression softened and, inexplicably, she gave him a cautious smile as her eyes sparkled with a hopeful gleam. She mouthed something he couldn’t understand but it ultimately didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know what she had said in order to complete his mission.

But as he took a step towards her, the terror instantly returned to her face and she bolted, no longer concerned about masking her tracks. She fled into the trees as fast as her legs would carry her but it was going to be a futile effort. She was no match for the power of the Winter Soldier. 

He took off after her, weaving in and out of the trees with ease. As he began to close the distance between them, the woman pulled out a gun and pointed it at him. There was a momentary hesitation….then the sound of the gun shattered the quiet of the night. 

The Asset easily blocked the bullet with his left arm and continued running. The woman let off a few more shots but he continued to either avoid or deflect them. Possibly because she wasn’t able to aim as she fired while still running, but he found it strange none of the shots were targeting his head or chest. Even if he slipped up and a bullet did manage to hit him, with their trajectory, they would only cause minimal damage. They would definitely slow him down but they would not do enough to stop him for good. 

As he closed the distance, he heard the recognizable click of the trigger being pulled on an empty gun and the woman swore. Tossing the gun to the side, she reached for a second weapon, but it was too late. He had caught up to her. 

Reaching out, The Asset grabbed the back of her tact vest and hurled her into the side of the nearest tree. She slammed into it with a sickening thump and the sound of breaking bones followed. Curled at the base of the tree, the woman screamed as she grabbed her left shoulder, her arm jutting out at an unnatural angle. But that didn’t stop her from trying to escape him.

As he stalked towards her, she used her feet to push herself back a few feet until she bumped up against a tree. Looking up at him, tears streaming down her face, she begged as he approached, “Bucky, stop! Don’t do this, please! Baby, this isn’t you, not anymore. The Winter Soldier is gone. You’re James Buchanan Barnes—you’re Bucky—and you don’t have to do this. Just try to remember. Please, baby, please come back to me. I love you! Just remember!”

But her words meant nothing to him.

The Asset’s metal fingers closed around her throat and he lifted her off the ground. Her legs began to thrash frantically in the air as her fingers on her right hand clawed at his own. It was an instinctual act, her body attempting to free her windpipe despite the obvious uselessness of her nails on Vibranium. She tried to choke out more pleas for her life, but all she could manage were a few raspy hisses. Her eyes were bulging in her head and The Asset watched as her blood vessels broke and clouds of crimson leached into the whites of her eyes.

Soon however, her clawing and writing slowed to little more than a twitch as her body began to shut down from lack of oxygen. And just as he felt one last desperate gasp building in her throat, he tightened his grip. He felt the bones and cartilage in her neck give way with a loud crunch and her body instantly went limp in his grasp.

The Asset heard someone calling out a name from behind him and the sound of something large crashing through the trees. He turned just as the other agent he had been sent to track down burst into the clearing. The man staggered to a stop as he saw his companion still dangling from The Asset’s hand.

As The Asset opened his fist, the woman dropped in a lifeless heap at his feet. In a mock imitation of her fall, the man dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. As he stared up at The Asset—not in fear or in defiance, but in agony—he whispered, “Bucky…. What did you do?”

The Asset reached into his belt, pulled out his gun, and aimed it directly between the man’s eyes as he said, “Who the hell is—”

Bucky bolted up from his resting place on the floor, chest heaving as he gasped for air, a cold layer of sweat coating his body. Looking around frantically, his breathing slowed slightly as he took in the sterile room around him and he remembered where he was. He had been sleeping. It had been a dream.

Collapsing back down with a sigh, Bucky stared up at the ceiling. He scrubbed his hand over his face as he attempted to wipe the vision of your lifeless body from his mind, but it didn’t work. No matter how hard he tried or what else he focused on, you were still there, hanging limply in his grasp as he heard the crunch—

Sick to his stomach and struggling to get his heart to stop racing, Bucky climbed unsteadily to his feet. However, he had barely taken two uneasy steps before he reached the wall and was forced to turn, take a few steps, and turn again. For the most part, he had become accustomed to his tiny room—after all, it was still a vast improvement over the cryostasis chamber he had spent the majority of the last fifty years in. However, at night he wished he had some way to work off his adrenaline-fueled energy. Not that he really wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep meant dreaming, and dreaming meant repeating this cycle all over again with the same agonizing scene playing in his head. 

Because it wasn't just a dream…it was a memory.

Six months ago, a HYDRA agent had gotten ahold of his trigger words and reactivated the Winter Soldier when Bucky tracked him down along with you and Steve. Trapped once more within his programming, The Asset had been ordered to find and eliminate both of the SHIELD agents that posed a threat to HYDRA. Steve was able to bring Bucky back just before he could complete his mission, and he re-emerged from the conditioning to find you lying at his feet—your throat crushed and tears still staining your face. 

You who had never given up on him no matter what. You who had never looked at him with fear or pity, only kindness and understanding. You who constantly reassured him that he would never hurt you. You who he loved more than life itself. 

You who he had murdered in cold blood.

Once he had been reexamined and deemed no longer a threat, SHIELD had agreed to let Bucky go and chalk your murder up to “collateral mission damage” but he had refused. He was a danger to every person he was around, especially the few remaining people he still had whom he cared about. The fact it took your death for him to finally accept that fact was devastating but he was never going to let it happen again. That was why he voluntarily offered himself over to SHIELD’s custody so he could pay for all of his previous crimes. SHIELD was more than happy to oblige him and they immediately confiscated his Vibranium arm and threw him in The Raft. Bucky just hoped they never let him out.

Steve hadn’t agreed with his decision—he still didn’t—and had tried everything he could to talk Bucky out of it. He pleaded for him to reconsider, that it had been the Winter Soldier who had ended your life, not Bucky himself. But Steve didn’t understand. No one did.

It didn’t matter where he spent the remainder of his life. From the moment your life ended, he had been given a life sentence of endless torment. Bucky might not have been in control that night, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember what happened. That he didn’t hear your voice sobbing as you begged him to remember you, remember that you loved him. That he didn’t feel your fingernails snapping as they tried to dig into his metal hand in a futile attempt to pry it away from your throat. That he didn’t watch the last beautiful spark in your eyes flare once before fading into oblivion as he crushed your neck. 

No. His mind had already become his prison before he was placed behind bars. And this time, there were no magic words anyone could say to bring him back and allow him to escape from it.

[nightwhispcrs]

his arm was twitching before as slept , fingers flexing uncomfortably . jack woke to find them balled into a fist , nails digging into the skin of his palm . a heavy sensation sat on his chest ; at first he thought michael had fallen alseep on him at some point in the night , but when he glanced over he saw that his boyfriend was not touching him at all . as he tried to let out a sigh to regain focus , jack discovered he couldn't really breathe . assuming some part of his body had just been in the wrong position during his unconcious state , jack rolled to his side and slid out of bed . he sat up on the edge of the mattress and rubbed his face with his palms , but nothing felt right . / closed starter for @rainbowmuses ( jichael )

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Call Mom

CW: PTSD/flashbacks, BBU in general, haunted, ghosts, reference to a murder, severe chronic panic

Jameson's Masterlist (scroll down)

-

Aw, crap. Hey, Johnny, do you remember where I put that girl's number? Like, Katie, or Caitlyn, or... do you remember? Hey! Johnny! Put down the fucking xbox controller for two fucking minutes and give me a hand, won't you?

Fingers snap right in front of his face.

Johnny!

Jameson jerks in a breath that sounds like a whine, sitting straight up. The fan blows cool air over his sweat-soaked skin and he shivers, cold inside and out. The air in his room is freezing, suddenly. Outside it's so dark you can't even see the trees - the power outage must still be going, there aren't any streetlights. Thanks to the clouds, no stars or moon, either.

Just darkness.

Wait, if the electricity's out...

He looks up. The ceiling fan is perfectly still above his head, even while ice-cold air keeps goosebumps rising on his arms, the hair standing up at the back of his neck.

See, was that so hard? It'll take like five minutes if we work together, I swear.

"Nat?" He mumbles. "S'at... you?"

Checked there already, actually. Checked the fridge, too, so where the hell did I put it?

He's the only person in this room.

Jameson goes from still half-asleep to fully, painfully awake and aware in a single breath.

The voice comes as clear as if it was right next to him, a voice as familiar as his own - but he has no idea whose it is. There's no one here but him - even Trash Cat isn't here any longer, probably hunting a tiny piece of plastic downstairs that he'll end up stepping on in the morning. So far she hasn't eaten any of them. He doesn't even know where she's finding them.

Johnny, come on. Let's, like, retrace our steps.

His head starts to ache more with every single word, the pain working like tendrils behind his eyes, a pressure trying to crush his skull from the inside. Something flashes, bright and almost like a spectrum of rainbow colors, in the corner of his right eye, but it won't resolve when he turns his head.

I got home from work, I told you we had a hot customer who gave me her number, and then... then what?

Jameson stares into darkness so complete it feels like it has weight. Like it's sitting on the bed next to him, like the mattress dips underneath it. A body made of memory, slowly pulling together the pieces of what's been hidden. Clawing them out but leaving deep weals across the inside of his mind, like a corpse's fingers digging into loose dirt to climb out of his grave.

"Caitlyn," He whispers, as the thought crystallizes. A memory, pure and perfect. Some sliver of whatever they broke the person he was into. Some small piece of the man who signed up. "Her name was Caitlyn, not Katie. She... wrote it on the fucking paper."

Right! Okay, so, clearly I told you her name, and then what?

Jameson turns his head, and there he is.

Hank.

His breath catches in his throat.

Hank is younger than he is, even though he was older then. The older brother, trapped in time, while Jameson - Jonathan - keeps aging. The rakish smile is still there and, Christ, Jameson had forgotten that he'd done that stupid thing to his hair - you forgot everything about him, you begged them to take him away from you so that it wouldn't hurt anymore. He's still got that one crooked tooth he'd refused to get braces to fix. That crooked tooth had been in his dental records. It was how they identified his body.

The fucking crooked tooth, the silver-colored fillings, then the DNA tests...

"No," He whispers, going for a vicious hiss, but what comes out is far too close to a whimper. "No. This is-... this is a flashback. This isn't real, this isn't-"

Maybe I left it in yesterday's pants?

"This isn't real, fuck off." Jameson shoves himself off the bed, forgetting his stupid fucking legs don't work. His knees buckle as soon as they have to take his weight.

He lands wrong on one arm and the pain spikes up through his shoulder, making him cry out in the hoarse, rasping voice that his life has left him with. "Fuck!"

He rolls onto his side, but he can't stop himself.

He looks up again. He doesn't want to remember Hank but he's desperate for one more look at his face. Just the one more time.

Just once more.

Hank sighs, raking a hand back through his hair, leaving it mussed-up and sticking out, looking ridiculous. He did that all the time. Bit his nails, too, and tried everything to stop but he never did. He wore those jeans with the ripped knee all the time, their mother had hated it. Hank, wearing the t-shirt for the band they'd gotten concert tickets for but never got the chance to see. Hank, dead for years, smiles to one side at a brother who isn't there.

The brother who erased him.

"Hank," He whispers. "Hank, you gotta-... you gotta go. You're hurting me-"

Damn. Man, it wasn't in my jeans either. Well, I'll find it sooner or later, I guess. Hank shrugs. His eyes are in shadow, not quite defined. Jameson wonders if it's because he's forgotten what color his brother's eyes were, forgotten it deeply enough that even this can't pull it back.

It'll be okay, Johnny. It really will. Hank looks right at him. Jameson's breath catches in his throat. The room is so cold the air burns as he breathes. It never gets this cold in California. It can't be this cold in California. I mean it. Don't cry yourself to sleep over this.

"I cried myself to sleep... all the time, but I don't now. I'm not-... that guy." He can barely speak. He sees his breath puff out when his lips move, and Jameson slumps back. His voice cracks, it creaks like old floors. He didn't stop crying for weeks. He didn't leave his bed. He did any drug he could find trying to not think about Hank, until he realized there was only one way to make sure he never had to think about what he'd done, by letting Hank walk home alone that one night, again. He didn't want to think about that pain anymore.

They had promised him he wouldn't ever have to hurt like this again.

They lied about that, too.

Jameson makes a sound he refuses to admit is a choked-off sob. "I'm not him, Hank. I'm not Johnny... not anymore."

Hank stands, and it's impossible. He's not here. But he holds out his hand anyway, and Jameson takes it without thinking. Hank's grip is so cold it burns, but Jameson lets his dead brother pull him to his feet anyway.

He smells like earth and ice.

"I'm not him," He whispers.

Right, like that argument ever works. Hank just grins, shaking his head. The man Jameson was - the one he had begged to leave behind - is the reason Hank will look like this in his memories forever. He's the reason there isn't another Hank, only this one, locked in the memories he wanted to boil and burn out of his own head. They're still there, though. They break through.

They never stop breaking through.

He would crawl back into Robert's cage himself if it only meant he didn't have to remember that it's his fault Hank is dead.

Tears run hot down his cheeks - the only thing in him that isn't frozen is his grief, wildfire in his chest leaving nothing but ash behind. Forests after wildfires are ghosts, Hank said once, when they were both high and everything sounded fucking important.

Jameson had called him an idiot - he remembers that now. But... he also thinks Hank was right. He closes his eyes as tightly as he can, focusing. He isn't here. Hank cannot be here. "I don't remember... remember you-... I don't want to remember you! It was my choice to forget!"

Hank claps him on the shoulder. His smile goes briefly gentle and soft. Jameson can see it with his eyes closed. Whatever you say, man. Just promise me you'll call Mom sometime soon, okay?

The pain is too much. If he can't pass out soon, he might die just from having to experience it, unending, never stopping, rising higher and higher. "Mom...?"

Yeah, dumbass. Mom. Our mother? Who gave birth to us and never lets us fucking forget it? I keep trying to talk to her, but I guess my signal's bad. Hank laughs, and Jameson's whole body breaks with the sound of that familiar laughter. The way Hank could throw his head back without the slightest bit of self-consciousness, how he'd hear that laugh across a crowded room and know it was his brother's, know right where he was.

Until he didn't.

Until nobody did.

Until the cops found what was left.

Until-

Jameson jolts again, and finds himself still lying on the floor next to his bed. He's burning up, boiling hot, pouring sweat until his sleep shirt sticks to his back and his arms feel slick with it, his hair sticking to skin. A droplet trickles down the back of his neck like a fingertip, barely touching. He rips his shirt off, then his pants, throwing them as far away from himself as he can, until he's naked on the floor but it isn't enough.

He's still sweating, still breathing in harsh gasps, fighting around the strength of his racing heart to get enough air to fill his lungs. He looks frantically around, but no one's here.

The ceiling fan circles lazily overhead.

He takes in a breath, his heart pounding. It feels like it's going to grow wings and fly away, up his throat and out of his mouth. He's still crying, he realizes only now. He closes his eyes as tightly as he can and fights tears back through sheer willpower and rage, curling his hands into fists. Just like they used to be, his fingers know - muscle memory of mittens that had kept him powerless, once. Now, he does it on purpose, and he forces them to curl through the pain.

Forces down the dream.

Wills himself to forget he ever had it.

"Four... f-four things you can see," he whispers to himself, slumping back down. His voice keeps trembling, catching, and it's everything he has to open his eyes again around the pounding headache in his skull and look. "The-... moon. Out the... window. The, my dresser... for my clothes... M-My, uh, the picture Nat p-printed of me and Allyn... fuck, the... the doorknob."

Every time he thinks he knows how much of his body can hurt at once, some nerves he didn't know existed decide to join the party. He has to breathe in and out, slow and controlled, trying to will his body to cooperate. He won't walk tomorrow, he can tell already. It'll be a day to spend in bed, or using his wheelchair. It might be a week until his body lets him walk again.

He fights back a new well of rage and despair at how well he knows the next way his body will fail him. He can't think about that right now, or the pain and the panic will spiral out of control. He might hurt someone. He can't hurt anyone, not ever again.

He won't.

"Three... things I can touch," He murmurs. "My, my... my shirt, fuck, gross, sweaty... my... my hair... the floor, feels... cold, feels good... the corner of my bed..."

It helps. He makes himself focus on this, on real things, not the nightmare of his brother.

He won't remember his brother.

He won't.

"Two things I can hear. Uh, the, there's... crickets or something outside, and-... and I can hear-"

Hank's voice whispers right next to his ear.

Call Mom.

His breath hitches.

"Not real," he whispers. "One... one thing I can taste..."

All he tastes is blood, and for one horrified half a second he's sure it's Hank's blood, until he realizes he bit his tongue in his sleep.

The blood is his own.

Call Mom.

-

[theherosvillain]

Just sleep

(Try Not To) Kill All Your Friends masterpost

CWs: nightmares, gun violence, death

I’m standing in a long white room with a row of people lined up against the wall ahead of me. I can only see a few of them clearly—Ariel, Danika, Mom—but somehow I know that everyone I care about is here, all in one neat row.

Standing in front of them is Vale. He’s holding a gun.

I scream, but the noise comes out muffled, as if I’m underwater. None of them react as Vale raises his gun, and I try to reach out with my powers to knock it out of his hands. But I can’t feel it—I can’t feel anything. My powers aren’t working.

The gun fires with silent flares. One by one, each person I love falls to the ground. My legs are paralyzed. All I can do is watch helplessly, the pool of blood around each of them growing bigger and bigger and bigger.

I can’t hear it, but I know I’m screaming.

The last one falls, and only then does Vale lower the gun. He turns to look at me, his eyes as expressionless as those of the people he just killed, specks of blood staining his otherwise pristine suit. He glances impassively at the bodies, and then back at me. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him. I’m still screaming.

****

My hand flew up to my mouth as I bolted upright—drenched in sweat, panting, staring into the dark like I might find myself back in that stark white room. It took a moment to process the pinpricks of city lights from behind the curtains, the shape of the oversized bed surrounding me, the almost-familiar nightstand. My exhale came out as a sob. I tentatively felt around with my powers, and everything was exactly as I’d left it. No blood on the floor, no dead bodies. It was just a nightmare.

The thought wasn’t as much of a relief as I wanted it to be. My erratic breathing quickly turned into sobs. I hugged my knees to my chest and squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still see all the blood, the empty eyes. I felt nauseous as I recalled the image of my mom lying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling with a bullet hole through her forehead. It wasn’t real, but that didn’t make it any less horrifying. I wanted her here. I wanted to feel her touch and smell her citrus shampoo and hear her tell me that it was just a dream, that she was okay, that everyone was okay. Because alone, in the dark, I couldn’t convince myself that was true. The nightmare was too visceral to scrub out of my mind.

There was a tap on my door. I stiffened, going quiet. “Phantom?” It was Vale’s voice. There was no one else it could be, but the sound of it filled me with dread. I didn’t want him here, not with the vivid image of him splattered with blood still stuck in my brain. “Are you … okay?”

The question caught me off-guard. I felt a sudden jolt of anger. What, like you actually fucking care? The only thing keeping me from saying it aloud was the knowledge that my voice would crack. I cleared my throat and called out, as steadily as I could, “I’m fine.”

My voice broke anyway.

I wasn’t surprised when the door opened, light from the hallway spilling in around Vale’s silhouette. I wiped my eyes on my sleeves, as if that would hide the fact that I’d been crying. “What happened?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting in … confusion? Concern? I couldn’t tell.

My voice was thick with tears as I said, “Nothing.”

He took a single step forward, his hand resting on the doorframe. “You know I don’t like being lied to.”

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying not to look at him, trying not to picture the blood. He wasn’t going to leave until I gave him an explanation. “I just… had a nightmare. That’s all.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Does this happen often?”

Since I got here? Yes. “No. Sir.” I turned my face away, wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. “Won’t happen again.” I’d be quieter next time.

His silence weighed heavily on the room. Please leave. Jesus fuck, please leave. I sensed him shifting on his feet, leaning ever so slightly forward. Then he straightened up. “Fine. Get some rest.”

“Yes, sir,” I muttered, flooded with relief as he left and shut the door behind him.

As soon as he was out of my sensing range, I let out a choked sob.

****

I’m in a long white room, facing down a line of dead bodies, the former husks of my loved ones. Vale lowers his gun and turns to me, expressionless. I don’t know how I can see so clearly with tears streaming from my eyes.

Suddenly, the texture of my surroundings floods back to me—my powers are working again. Wasting no time, I wrench the gun from Vale’s hand. He looks only mildly surprised as it hovers in midair, just out of his reach. If he took a step forward, he could grab it. But his hand remains at his side, and he just stares at the gun, almost expectant.

I spin it around and aim it straight between his eyes. He doesn’t move. His blank gaze shifts from the gun to me, and the ghost of a smile appears on his lips.

I pull the trigger.

****

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

I sat up straight at the kitchen table, rubbing my eyes, as Vale strode into the room. “Yeah,” I muttered, “that’s because I haven’t.”

I busied myself with stirring sugar into my coffee so I wouldn’t have to look at him. I never used to drink coffee at home, and I still couldn’t stand the taste, but I figured I could use the extra help staying awake. I was beginning to dread falling asleep at night. That fucking nightmare—I thought it was bad enough, the way it was initially, but that new ending … I’d woken up sick to my stomach and didn’t sleep another wink.

And it was ridiculous that it made me feel that way. It should have felt cathartic, killing Vale, even in a dream. It should have felt like justice. Instead it made me want to claw my own skin off, and I couldn’t explain why.

To my dismay, Vale pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. He hadn’t even gotten his coffee yet, which meant that this was a serious conversation. “You screamed again last night,” he said.

The spoon clattered against the edge of the mug. I picked it up and took a sip, grimacing at the bitterness. I’d spaced out too long; the coffee was getting cold, and the sugar had barely dissolved. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered.

Vale’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “You haven’t been sleeping. If it hasn’t affected your performance yet, it’s going to soon.” He paused, as if he wanted me to say something. I sipped my coffee in silence. His next sentence came out carefully, as if he were doing heart surgery instead of asking a simple question. “Is something, in particular, bothering you?”

Was something bothering me? Well, I was living in the house of the man who’d kidnapped me, forced to conform to whatever grand plan he had in store for me lest I disobey him and he decide to kill my family. “No,” I said, without making eye contact. “I’m fine.”

He sighed, and my stomach jolted as I recognized that subtle hint of frustration. “Don’t lie to me, Phantom.”

My grip tightened on the handle of my mug. “I don’t know what you want me to say. So what if I’m not fine? You don’t actually want to hear about it, do you?” I winced. Cons of being sleep deprived: it further impaired my already-defective filter, which Vale had never had much patience for.

“Phantom.” I hated how that tone of voice was all it took to shut me up. I kept my eyes on the table and waited out the several seconds he gave me to rethink my attitude. “If this is going to continue affecting you, something should be done about it.”

Like what? As far as I could see it, the only cure would be an end to this whole ordeal, and that wasn’t exactly on the table—not from his perspective, anyway. “Do you have any ideas?” I asked, trying not to sound sarcastic. It was hard for me.

He released a slow breath, pausing. “I’ll think about it. You should, too.” Then he stood and crossed over to the coffee pot, signaling the end of our talk.

I let myself relax. He wasn’t going to do anything about it, and that was fine by me. I’d learn how to deal. I’d drink more coffee. I would, as he’d promised me before, adjust to this dismal new world of mine, without his help.

****

I try to lunge at Vale, but it’s like running against the current of a raging river. I can’t make any headway. The muzzle of the gun presses to Loren’s forehead like a kiss. Loren doesn’t react; nobody in that long line ever does. I have the faintest sense that I’ve seen this happen before, but there’s no stopping it. There’s a flash of light, a splatter of blood, and I scream soundlessly, unable to reach them, as the bodies drop.

****

“Hello, Phantom.” The woman stood from the conference table, smoothing her blouse, as I came in. I recognized her from around the headquarters. She was one of the few henchmen who had earned the right to show her face, instead of hiding it behind one of those eerie blank-faced masks. She had long black hair tied in a ponytail, and she was dressed kind of business casual, which struck me as odd attire for a henchman. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” she continued. “I’m Michelle Yang. Please, have a seat.”

I sat in the chair across from her as she retook her position. She studied me for a moment with sharp eyes. I’d gotten used to being scrutinized; I just leveled my gaze at her, and she tilted her head. “Did Vale tell you why he sent you here?” she asked.

Since when did Vale ever explain anything to me? “No,” I said. “He tells me to do things; I just do them.”

A wry smile quirked the corners of Yang’s mouth. “Typical of him. Alright, I guess I’ll explain.” She sat up straighter, making a show of being businesslike, hands folded on the table. “I may be a hitwoman now, but in a former life, I wasa licensed psychologist.” She paused for a moment, letting me digest that curveball of a sentence. Then she went on. “He says you haven’t been sleeping, and that you won’t talk to him about it. He thought that I might be able to help.”

All I could do was stare at her. It had been weeks since he’d commented on my lack of sleep. Nothing had changed on my end, so I assumed that I was performing well enough for him to let it slide. Vale had never struck me as the type of man who believed in psychologists. He kept amber bottles of liquor in the corner of his office, and I’d never seen him touch them during business hours. When he stayed in there some nights, alone, I figured that was his version of therapy.

It took me a moment to unscramble my thoughts. “I do sleep,” I muttered. “Most nights, anyway.”

Yang hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward on her elbows. “I think he’d prefer if you slept every night. That’s probably healthier.” She paused, head tilted again, like a bird staking out its prey. “Do you find yourself avoiding it?”

Yes. “No.”

By the way she sighed, it felt like she’d heard the answer I gave in my head. “Listen,” she said, “I won’t pretend doctor-patient confidentiality rules apply here—especially since I’m not actually licensed anymore,” she added under her breath. “But, I get the sense that Vale isn’t interested in what goes on in this room. Whatever you say to me, it’s not going to make its way back to him.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust you on that?” Vale didn’t have any desire to micromanage me; that part I believed. But if I told Yang what was really on my mind, what I really thought of Vale, there was no way in hell he wouldn’t hear about it.

“That’s a good point,” she said, and I blinked in surprise. “You don’t know me yet, and I don’t know you. But I’m interested in building that trust—not just because Vale is paying me a pretty hefty bonus to talk to you, but because I like to think I was a damn good psychologist. Whatever you’re going through, I want to help you cope with it.”

I leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “If you were such a good psychologist, then why are you a hitwoman now?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Pays better. More exciting. Also, I’m pretty decent at it.”

I stared. After a long pause, I said, “That’s deranged.”

But she didn’t look deranged. She looked perfectly reasonable, in her business-casual khakis with her lightly made-up face, the picture of a respectable psychologist. “Maybe so,” she said. “I kill people as a day job, but every night, I go home to my husband and kids, and they’re none the wiser. I’m very good at compartmentalizing, Phantom. That’s a skill that you’ll need here.”

I’d never seen a therapist before. Even after my mom got arrested, when I probably could have been diagnosed with depression, I didn’t seek help. I was a Super, and I didn’t think doctor-patient confidentiality extended to that. It was a huge secret, and the root of most of my issues, and I couldn’t risk any law-abiding professional finding out about it. Therapy wouldn’t be useful if I couldn’t be honest.

That wasn’t something I had to worry about here; all of Vale’s henchmen knew I was a Super. No, that wasn’t the most glaring issue. “No offense,” I said, rising to my feet, “but I don’t really want to take advice from a contract killer.”

“Fair enough,” Yang said, shrugging. “But Vale does expect you and I to be in this room for an hour twice a week, and I don’t think he’ll be happy if he finds out you’ve been blowing it off.” I paused, dread sinking into my stomach; this was just as mandatory as the rest of my training. Yang spread her hands placatingly. “Listen, I can’t make you talk to me. But I will say that I’m interested in helping you.”

I shook my head. “You can’t help me.” There was nothing anyone on Vale’s payroll could or would do to help me.

She shrugged. “I can’t make your problems go away; no psychologist does that. But I can help you cope. I can teach you how to compartmentalize.”

I didn’t need a psychologist right now. What I really needed was Vale dead in the ground, and then a really, really long nap. After that, I might need a psychologist. But evidently, that wasn’t realistic.

I sank back into the chair, and Yang smiled sympathetically. “Alright,” she said. “So what’s keeping you up at night?”

****

The most bearable evenings were the ones where Vale was off having dinner with some business associate, or locked in his office for so long that he forgot to eat, so I was excused from having to eat dinner with him. It took a weight off my chest to eat in the dining room alone, to walk around the penthouse like a human being instead of a skittish cat.

Unfortunately, against my best wishes, tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Vale and I sat across from each other at the long dining table, and I kept my head down and hoped for silence.

“How did things go with Yang?” he asked.

I winced, wondering if Yang had spoken to him after I met with her. So far, I hadn’t told her much more than I’d told him—just that I was having nightmares. Unlike Vale, Yang had asked me what the nightmares were actually about, but I hadn’t told her. I’d only known the woman for an hour; she would have to do a lot of work if she wanted me to trust her, although I’d already made up my mind that I never would. Trusting someone who could rat me out to Vale at any point just seemed like a bad idea.

I swallowed my food and tapped my fork against the plate. “It went fine,” I said.

There was a pause. I didn’t look up to check Vale’s reaction—not that I could ever read his expression, anyway. “Did it help?”

“We met for an hour. I think it takes longer than that for therapy to work.” There was another pause, in which Vale tried to parse out whether I was being sarcastic or sincere. He must have given up, because he didn’t reprimand me. I decided to ask a question of my own. “Why are you having me talk to Yang?”

“Didn’t she tell you?” he asked.

“I wanted to hear it from you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, long enough that it occurred to me that maybe he didn’t know why he had me do it, either; maybe he’d just been reaching for some semblance of a solution. “I thought it would help for you to have someone to talk to,” he said finally, and then took a long sip of wine that prevented him from adding anything else.

It had always seemed to me like the moves Vale made were perfectly calculated. But in that moment, it dawned on me quite suddenly that outside of training me as a weapon, he didn’t know what to do with me. He hadn’t expected me to struggle—not this much, anyway. He’d completely neglected to take into account my human emotions. The revelation was so fucking stupid that I didn’t even know what to do with it: Vale was just fumbling his way through dealing with me as a person instead of a solider.

Maybe I’d tell that to Yang, the next time I saw her. And if Vale gave me that withering, warning look afterwards, at least I’d know that Yang’s word wasn’t any good.

-

Title credits: Sleep - My Chemical Romance

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