#PANIC ATTACKS

[incognitopolls]

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[soperomitch]

Lloyd having panic attacks

Gotta be one of my favorite genders.

He needs a break and some therapy he worries about saving the world too much.

Though, I do like how Dragons Rising is now giving Lloyd more depth to his mental state. They ignored it a lot more in the show.

Okay, first day at a different school. Time for me to get up and actually get ready. My cat is on top me me I don't wanna move.

[goldenjuniper]

hold on to each other

[thatoneautisticshark]

Tw panic attacks, mild dissociation discussion of rape.

Price and Simon slept together, having a good time. Simon doesn't do so well afterwards however

Price pulled out of Simon with a groan. “Fucking hell, your so tight.”

Simon lay there, his own cum on his stomach, Prices spend slowly leaking from his hole.His breathing heavy and measured as he vaguely registered Price moving around doing something nearby.

He felt… gross. He was sticky and sweaty. But it wasn't even the physical sensation. His eyes were blurring. His Captains bedroom was starting to look like his childhood bedroom, or the room with Roba.

He couldn't tell, it was all blurring together but he knew it wasn't good.His awareness of around him was fading, his ears ringing. He vaguely registered a door and footsteps exiting by it.

Of course he was being left. Fuck him and leave him, that's what always happened. At least the weren't here any more. He was safe for the time being.

He shifted, wincing at the feeling as he curled up. It hurt he could barely register anything, but he could feel the gross gross, wrong feeling of it, dripping out of him.

Running down his thighs.

Dampening his legs.

It was all so wrong. He needed to go, to run to do something, but he lay, frozen, stuck.

He wasn't sure how long he was laying there, eyes barely focused on the nightstand, ears ringing, but he was harshly snapped back to reality by the feeling of something wet on his thigh.

Simon reacted instinctively, somewhere between fight or flight. One hand threw a punch, but his body flinched backwards causing him to tumble off the bed. His head collides with the dresser as he scrambles backwards.

Through his blurry vision, he can barely see the shape.

The person. Approaching, getting closer and towering over him.

He pushes himself back in an attempt to get further, his back hitting the dresser. A hand is coming towards him, to grab, to hit, to do something.

Practically powerless, he plasters himself against the dresser, eyes squeezed shut. No touch comes. He slowly opens an eye, trying to focus through the blur.

The person is crouched In Front of him but not reaching out any more. The person speaks, their voice a low calming rumble “Hey, you're okay, I won't touch you, okay?”

The voice is familiar, Simon is sure he knows it, but he just can't place it. He knows it, the voice makes him feel safer, though he is still panicked.

“Just breathe, luv. That's it. In and out, Riley.”

Simons eyes slowly begin to focus ever so slightly. The beard, and voice finally piece together in his exhausted panic filled mind.

“Price?”

The captain's face split into a small smile. “Yeah I'm here, luv. Just breathe. It's all okay, relax”

Simons breaths slowly became more measured, the panic still clawing at the edges of his mind. But heavily overshadowed by shame and embarrassment.

Right after sex, he had a fucking freak out in his captains bed. Just bloody mint. His brain finally registered what was in Price's hand.

It was a fucking washcloth. He was gonna clean him up. He freaked out like a child over a washcloth?

He literally tried to punch his CO over trying to clean him up.

He froze. Oh god.He tried to punch his Captain. Wait, did he try or did he succeed? He couldn't see an obvious mark, so at least if he landed a hit it wasn't hard.

Maybe he could play it off? Worth a shot.

He stood up, ignoring the fact his legs were shaking and he felt like a newborn deer. “Well that was dramatic” He said, forcing his voice to be as steady as possible.

Acting as everything was fine. Maybe price would let him leave without being upset.

Price gave him a flat look “Yeah no, you are not playing this off. Sit down”

Well fuck. Simon wanted to wack his head into the wall, but he wasn't gonna disobey. He sat back on the bed, narrowly avoiding pulling a face as he became aware once more of the feeling of the cum all over and dribbling out from him.

Price sat down, a bit away from him, giving him some space. And Simon couldn't work out if he was happy or upset about it.

He wanted space. But a bit of him also wanted to be held, to be comforted, but he pushed it down.

He saw price's movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over. Price was holding out the wash cloth. “You wanna clean up? I doubt that feels nice”

Simon nodded, gratefully taking the cloth, wiping himself off. He was so stupid. He could have just stayed still and let price clean him up, but nooo. He had to be a drama queen and fall off the bed and try to punch his Captain.

That was obviously the logical decision.

He slowly raised his head to look at Price…who didn't look angry? Simon wasn't sure what the expression was but he was fairly sure that wasn't anger.

Price cleared his throat. “So are we gonna talk about that?”

Simon winced “How about no?” At the withering look he received he relented. “Not much to say. I was in my head and reacted dramatically. You startled me. Sorry for trying to clock you in the face.”

“Simon. That is not a reaction to just being startled and we know it. Maybe the initial thing, a flinch and instinctual punch, you could maybe convince me. But, then not even reacting to the fact you wacked your head, and scrambling backwards panicked and crying. That was not just being startled.”

Simon blinked at him “I wasn't crying.”

Price gave him a look “Did you really think that was gonna convince me? Your mask is damp from your tears.”

Simons hands immediately came up to his mask touching it, and sure enough, it was moist under his eyes. He had indeed been crying. “Ah”

A silence stretched over the room. Simon sat there trying to work out how to explain his dramatics.“I just.. my brain was just being dumb price. It decided to …. Think of this as being the room I was in with Roba and I was in my head. And the touch startled me, and then I couldn't quite recognise you”

The silence that followed confused Simon slightly. Price was staring at him with a look on his face as if Simon had delivered the worst news.“I..Fuck I am so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know it would trigger a panic attack, especially about rape. I swear I wouldn't have if I knew” Price looked so guilty.

Simon blinked at him. “It's fine? It's not a huge deal.”

It really wasn't. Simons brain just did stupid stuff sometimes and Price didn't have a reason to be apologizing.

The older man opened his mouth to argue before closing it, sighing and opening it again. “We are going to have a proper discussion about this at some point. But not right now, can I hug you right now?”

Simon nodded, and felt the warm strong arms off his captain wrapping around his middle and the tickle of the beard against his neck.

He agreed because Price really seemed to need it. But he had to admit it was nice. The older man was practically a heater, and a weighted blanket in one.“I'm giving you actual fucking aftercare” Came the murmur from his chest. If aftercare included cuddles like this, Simon decided he'd probably like it.

Poor price. He Is so worried and confused. Also autistic ghost, who just thinks his panics attacks are being dramatic.

[kades-whump-stuff]

recovering Whumpee prompts

Whumpee who NEEDS to see everything around them. They will not let anyone, even Caretaker, walk behind them, they sit or stand with their back to a wall if possible. They're always looking behind them, constantly expecting Whumper there, even if it's just subconsciously.

Whumpee who makes themself as small as possible. They know their posture is taking a hit, but they draw in all of their limbs and hunch over in an attempt to be as small as possible. They're most comfortable this way.

Whumpee who has periods of time where they lose speech - partially or totally. During these, if they want or need something, they find it difficult or impossible to ask for it, and god forbid someone ask them about Whumper.

Whumpee who dissociates - their eyes grow unfocused at times and they always look confused or lost. They mindlessly follow Caretaker wherever they go, even when they're completely out of it.

Whumpee who has lost touch with their own self and feelings, and who notices that their breathing and heartbeat are speeding up. They notice their symptoms of having, say, a panic attack, too late to stop the effects.

Whumpee who has to be their own caretaker, whether that means stitching up their own wounds while biting on their wallet, or forcing themself up and out of bed in the morning.

[smigcrazy]

Breathe for me

Skz han jisung x skz 9th member

Female reader!

You absolutely hated crowds, loud noises, cameras, and flashes; they always made you uncomfortable, and you wanted to run away and cry whenever any of this happened. Here you were now, in the crowded airport of Korea, waiting to board a plane to Japan. Of course, the airport was packed—SO, SO crowded. Fans were screaming for photos and autographs, desperate to give you gifts to the point that some just threw them in your face. The sheer number of cameras was overwhelming, and you weren’t feeling it today. So, you pulled your hood up, put on your face mask and glasses, and followed your members while looking down, hoping this would be over soon.

As you walked, a fan shouted your name REALLY loud: “YN!!! YN!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!” You froze for a millisecond in shock but then forced a smile and looked at the fan. Your members noticed your discomfort. Han stepped closer to you and held your hand softly, squeezing it to comfort you, knowing you were overwhelmed.

With every passing moment, the crowd felt more suffocating. You felt like you were in a small, tight room, alone, with the doors locked and the walls closing in. Your heart started to race, and your mind went blank; the voices faded away, and the fans became bigger and more overwhelming in your eyes. You scratched the tips of your fingers, desperately trying to calm your anxiety. With each second, you felt like crying even more, and you struggled to breathe.

Han, who was standing next to you, noticed the signs of a panic attack. “Hey, are you okay? Do you wanna go somewhere quiet? Let’s go somewhere quiet, come on.” He walked a few steps to the front, where Chan was standing, and tapped his back, whispering in his ear, “YN is feeling a little anxious, so I’m gonna take her to the bathroom.”

Chan turned around, concern etched on his face as he looked at you and then back at Han. “Okay, but don’t be late; we’re boarding in 30 minutes.” Han nodded and took your hand, leading you to the bathroom a few meters away. Once inside, he looked at you; tears filled your eyes, and you were breathing rapidly, trying to calm down but struggling.

Han brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here. Just try to breathe. Can you do that for me? Breathe.” He breathed with you, saying, “Breathe... in... and out... in... out... slow and steady.” While he spoke, he rubbed your back and held your hand with his other one.

You started to calm down a little, but you were still scratching the tips of your fingers. “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself. Just focus on breathing, and everything will be fine, okay?” He hugged you tightly and continued to rub your back. “Shhh, it’s gonna be okay, I promise. We’ll be on the plane soon, and you can rest there.”

You looked up at him, your tear-stained face reflecting gratitude. “The company booked us business class, thank God.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Han looked at you with soft eyes, wiping away your remaining tears. “How dare you apologize?! It’s my job to calm you down! Remember when you used to calm me down during my panic attacks? I learned all that from you.”

You smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth. “Well, that’s good to hear.” You chuckled and hugged him again, grateful that he was always there for you.

[callmeizukunotdeku]

Batfamily Week 2025: Day Two

Prompts: choices, panic attack, family game night

All Fun and Games by CallMeIzukuNotDeku

The Drakes say some suspicious things at a gala and Bruce realizes that his neighbors have been leaving his ten year old alone for weeks, sometimes months at a time. To rectify this, he decides to set up a meeting where he can propose an ultimatum: he'll financially support Drake Industries so long as they stop neglecting their son. Unaware of the ultimatum they're about to receive, the Drakes agree to meet with him.

A week before the meeting is scheduled, the Drakes clarify one important detail: at the time of the meeting, they will be out of the country. Tim will be taking their place.

Not wanting to send Tim away, Bruce decides to still meet with him, though, in hindsight, he probably should have clarified this with his kids.

— — —

“Hey, B,” he called out, “this your new kid? He looks just like you.”

Tim gave him a confused look and Bruce, a fond one. “This is our neighbor, Tim.”

The boy gave a small nod and a quiet, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Jason,” he smiled, before looking at Bruce, “but you can call me the favorite child.”

[whumporama]

Whumpee has gone through a forced transformation, and are now in human form. They used to be a magical creature, but were cast out, or maybe just cursed, and are now stuck like this.

There is no way to reverse it, so it's been years.

In this new body, they've found it difficult to connect to others. And so, for years, they barely got any touch and are now touch starved.

Eventually, Caretaker learns of it all, and they slowly start to work on touch. One day, Caretaker suggests giving Whumpee as massage. Hesitantly, Whumpee agrees.

They don't do much, maybe just the shoulders. But it's already a struggle for Whumpee. They're not used to this, they try to relax but their body is confused and their muscles keep locking up. Eventually, it's too much and Whumpee tells Caretaker to stop.

They try to calm down, insisting they're fine. But they're not. They can't stand still, and this feeling won't go away. Caretaker isn't touching them, but their skin is crawling and they feel pressure and it's all wrong and they can't they can't-

Whumpee starts to panic, being dragged back to the day they were transformed, forced into a body that isn't theirs. They can't breathe and are crying, gasping for breath while the panic won't go because their body is wrong.

Caretaker watches, powerlessly, as Whumpee tries to hold themselves together and fails.

[silverskye13]

for the hurt comfort promt thingy: Helsknight or/and Tanguish suffering from the aches of living (getting sick, having a migraine, panic attack, painful cramps, etc) and enjoying the others company whilst suffering.

It hits at odd times, but once, before every match, inevitably, Helsknight has a panic attack. The funny thing was, he never really knew that's what they were for the longest time. There was a disconnect between his mind and the reactions of his body. He would think about the match. He would think about losing. He would think about how that could come about, what would most likely happen. All the terrible little scenarios. It probably started as something more productive, running bad cases through his head and trying to imagine ways to counter them. Then the shakes would start. And the buzzing in his ears. The sudden, blinding desire to break something, or pace in circles. The inability to move to vent the reckless energy.

The sudden, piercing silence of mind; the resounding, thoughtless emotion of danger.

This one happened at another odd time. A quiet time. A time he should have been at peace, but wasn't. He was sitting in his cell, writing. Carding through words and phrases. Not a speech, just possible rebuttals for Red, when they inevitably shouted their grievances across the sand.

The thought struck him: [Would he say something if he was wounded? Dying, maybe, if he could feel that coming? Should he prepare something for that?]

Helsknight scratched a few quick tally marks on the page, doodling neat rows of lines as he tried to think of something worthwhile to say, in the event Red got the upperhand.

The thought struck him: [What would it look like if Red won?]

Helsknight was a vicious fighter, confident in his skills, and EB had engrained in him the necessity of fighting dirty. Not dishonorably -- no kicking sensitive places or punching stab wounds. But sometimes one had to give in to the necessity of ugly violence for survival's sake. Biting, clawing, wrestling.

Red would have to disarm him somehow. If Helsknight had a weapon in his hand, he would find a reason to fight. Once, he killed a rampaging hoglin with just the broken half of his sword. Granted, it had [thankfully] shattered with a sharp end, so it was mostly an unwieldy dagger, but still. It hadn't been a real weapon anymore, and Helsknight had used it.

So, disarmed. Maybe literally. There were a lot of things Helsknight could fight through, but dismemberment was one of those he didn't like his chances against. Losing a hand in the Colosseum had a way of halting the momentum of a fight quickly. Helsknight did not think he would just lay down and die though. Probably Red would stand over him with that massive ax -- Helsknight could see it in his mind's eye, the way Red squared up to people like they were a tree he was proud to fell.

[Red never aimed for the neck. He thought beheadings were cruel, given necks were thicker and more tenacious than most people gave them credit for, and blades had difficulty when bones needed severed. It would be a swing that came for major veins and arteries. His shoulders. His chest. His legs.]

There would be a lot of blood. There might be less blood, if Martyn was still up when it happened. He would spare Red the kill, and his knives were keen and his aim was good. The throat, the eyes, up beneath the ribs, if he could find a parting in Helsknight's armor. And then...

... Nothing.

Respawn, maybe.

Or. Maybe not.

[What would it feel like, when he went back to Wels?]

It would feel like... Nothing. Because there would be nothing left of him to feel. It would be dark. It would be quiet. Logically, it would be like sleep. Timeless nothing, with no dreams and no waking and...

Nothing.

The End of Everything.

It was silly to be afraid. He could not feel fear in oblivion. There would be nothing left of him that could feel fear.

[What would Nothing feel like?]

[Nothing.]

[It would...

[it......

[

[

"Helsknight?"

Helsknight blinked. And he blinked again. His eyes felt dry and itchy, like he was staring too long. His notebook was still open to a half-written page.

His mind was watching an ax swing.

Tanguish's weight was suddenly on his shoulder, arms crossed, looking over at his work. The touch reminded Helsknight, in no uncertain terms, where he was. Not on the sand. Not on the broad end of an ax head. He was in his cell, writing, and Tanguish was here.

"You've been staring for a while," Tanguish observed, his voice quiet and close. He had a habit of talking softly into prolonged silence, like he was afraid of trespassing on someone else's thoughts. The rise and fall of his chest against Helsknight's back reminded Helsknight to regulate his breathing. One deep inhalation after another.

"Do you not like what you've written?" Tanguish persisted.

"No," Helsknight answered, his voice hoarse and strangled in a throat constricted with baseless fear. "I don't like it."

Tanguish watched him, a frown twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Are you alright?"

Helsknight cleared his throat uncomfortably. He felt... Shaky. The need to shiver crawled up his back, and he had to set his jaw to stifle it.

He realized his jaw hurt. Had he been grinding his teeth?

"I'm." [He could not lie.] [He could not admit he was panicking over nothing.] [He didn't want to talk, when nausea suddenly made any emotion leaving his mouth a perilous task.] "Having a hard time coming up with things to say."

His quill was still in his hand. The last few tally marks he has traced on the margins of his page were noticeably jittery. Trying to pick them out from the crowd suddenly had all the little lines blurring together, dancing over top of each other. His heartbeat was too fast beneath his breathing, and he could feel every beat like they were done with intention, like if he stopped thinking about it, the muscle would slow to a stop like any other unused limb. His fingers twitched.

"Have you tried rereading your old work?" Tanguish suggested helpfully, he leaned forward on Helsknight's shoulders, reaching over to the book and turning to a random page nearer the front. "You probably have a dozen good lines here you've forgotten about."

The page Tanguish had opened to was a poem, written a few weeks ago when Helsknight had been idle. He let out a breath, cold against the back of Helsknight's neck, delighted.

"Is that one new?"

"New-ish."

"Can I read it?"

Helsknight laid his fingertips flat against the desk, trying to calm the shudder in his hands. If Tanguish noticed, he didn't say anything.

"It's best if read aloud," Helsknight said, because he realized, somewhere in the back of his mind where rational thought was slowly crawling its way forward, that Tanguish's voice was grounding. Forcing him to recognize the moment, and stay there, and away from perilous thoughts. "Give it a shot."

Tanguish chewed on his bottom lip, suddenly nervous. His tail flicked, a motion that Helsknight felt in the jerk that traveled up Tanguish's spine. He eyes Helsknight's cramped handwriting, and let out a long breath. Helsknight let his breath out too, unaware he'd been holding it.

Tanguish read the poem aloud, wandering through stanzas with reckless abandon, ignoring punctuation like it didn't matter for meter and time. He read the poem like it was prose, one word after another, inflectionless, besides his own reactions to the alliteration.

Helsknight sighed, and welcomed the relief when his hands stopped shaking.

"You're good at that," he said, when Tanguish was done. "Read another?"

Tanguish smirked, aware of his own fumbles. But when Helsknight turned the page with hands that no longer shook, Tanguish humored him.

Helsknight let his mind rest.

[certifiedsexed]

In reference to this post

https://www.tumblr.com/certifiedsexed/787710790841106432/does-consent-count-if-you-werent-mentally-sound?source=share

Would having a panic/anxiety attack constitute a mental space where you couldn't consent? That happened to me and I've always said it was SA but I know it's a 'grey area'

Definitely! It can definitely depend on the person but I think that easily falls under that definition. And it probably would fall under sexual assault, especially if someone knew you were having a panic attack.

[vashwoodficrecs]

someone to last your whole life

by: catchatter | @needlab7

E, Vashwood, 74k, complete

Wolfwood looks different. Different than even the hundreds of ghosts—threads of shimmering grey shot through his temples and fine lines splintered out around his eyes like someone dragged a feather through damp clay. Like he’s aged almost decade in the year since he— “Died,” Vash rasps. “You died.” Wolfwood’s eyebrows shoot up in an expression that Vash has remembered so many times that his own faulty memory rewrote over the real thing. “This isn’t—how?” he asks, voice warping around the cold static clogging his mouth. “You ever hear of Jesus Christ?” Wolfwood grins, and it’s exactly the same. Like no time has passed. Like he’s so proud of his stupid joke. Like Vash didn’t lay his still-warm corpse in the ground and bury him on the other side of that building. Like the inexorable inspiral of a binary star, Vash is drawn back to the orphanage in December and the unexpectedly empty grave of his dearest friend. Or, Vash and Wolfwood and all their tomorrows.

I cannot believe I haven't already posted this. This is simply THE post-canon Wolfwood lives fix-it fic of all time, I nearly consider it required reading for all things Vashwood.

The amount of unspoken love and care and importance between these two is absolutely breathtaking. The trauma they both have is so important too, everything is very not okay after what they've been through, but they heal together and hold each other through it. The fucking pining is immaculate, down to the way poor Wolfwood is really throwing himself at a Vash who is so afraid of intimacy that he runs away from the thing he wants the very most.

It's also really fucking funny and cute. I'll let you read all the best parts for yourself and not ruin them, but they're dorks. They're such fucking dorks and Livio is the number one Vashwood shipper and I love them all so much.

[starry-eyed-adam]

panic attack writing prompts :)

“My chest hurts. It hurts.”

“I can’t!”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Don’t touch me—don’t touch me!”

“Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

tw: gunshots, trauma, panic attack

takes place a year or so after chapter 21 of Head Over Boots, they’re on their camping trip :)

The gunshot seemed to scream through the air, some hunter’s nearby attempt at murder of an animal, the sound rattling against Yuichi’s skull as it penetrated his ears. Faintly, the logs in his arms tumbled and hit the soft forest floor, and Yuichi fell similarly, shaking hands over his ears as he curled up tightly, defensively.

Another shot, and Yuichi yelped as his chest constricted, heart thudding erratically as he felt an icy grip around him.

Boots on the dirt, towards him, barrel of a shotgun between his eyes.

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Honeybunny?” Leo glanced over his shoulder at the absence of footsteps behind him. The slider dropped his own firewood and hurried back, brow furrowed at the sight of his husband crouched low, shaking on the ground. “Yuichi, hey, what happened?”

Yuichi didn’t answer, barely heard a word. The world bled in and out of focus, his ears still rang, from the day his stallion threw him from the saddle and he lay there to die.

To die.

Cold metal against his jaw. A threat, and not an empty one.

Pump.

Click.

BANG!

Leo’s hand reached to gently rub his lover’s back, an attempt to ground him, bring him back.

“Don’t touch me!” Yuichi shrieked, and the cowboy instantly drew back. “Don’t touch me!”

“Darlin’, hey, you’re safe,” whispered his worried husband, kneeling before him. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“M-My chest,” Yuichi gasped, removing one hand from his ears to clutch at the front of his shirt. Tears spilled down his cheeks, left clean streaks against the dust and dirt. “It hurts, it—it hurts.”

He was going to die. He was going to die he was going to die he was going to—

“Honeybunny,” spoke Leo, slow and soothing, “I need you to take a deep breath, okay? It hurts ‘cause you ain’t breathin’ enough.”

Gasping, chest rising and falling so rapidly and shallowly, Yuichi tried to remember how to breathe. Sucking in air too fast, he choked and coughed. “I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Yuichi, honey, nobody’s gonna hurt you. I’m right here, okay? Deep breaths, darlin’. Watch me.” Hesitantly, reluctantly, Yuichi cracked his wild, glistening eyes open, found Leo’s calm blue ones. “Good, good,” whispered the slider with a smile. “Take a deep breath in, through your nose. Slow.” Watching his husband breathe in, so slow and easy, Yuichi closed his mouth to copy him.

“There ya go! Good. Now out through your mouth.” Leo blew out a breath, and, shakily, Yuichi did the same. “Good job, honeybunny. Take another breath in.”

The guided breathing went on for what felt like ages as Yuichi’s chest loosened, and the frigid feeling slipped away, melted into the forest floor with his terror. “There you go,” whispered Leo with a small, proud smile. “Is it okay if I hold your hand, honeybunny?”

Yuichi wiped at his eyes with a sniff and nodded after a moment. The familiar feeling of the rough, calloused palm in his own, the sensation of Leo’s thumb rubbing little circles against the back of his hand, was an instant comfort, and Yuichi closed his eyes to breathe deeply again. “Good job,” praised his husband again, smiling warmly at him. “You wanna tell me what happened, there?”

Swallowing, rubbing at his eye again, Yuichi made a face. “It was, um. It was stupid,” he mumbled. “I heard a gunshot. And I got scared.”

“Mm.” Leo continued to rub his hand, still breathing so slow and calm. “That ain’t stupid. Gunshots are scary. Especially after what Don’s put ya through.” He shifted to sit beside Yuichi, guiding his husband to lean into his side, rest his head on his shoulder. Yuichi closed his eyes with the soothing comfort of Leo’s body, the smell of pine and hay and the cologne that always stayed on his clothes.

“Think you can make it back to camp, honey?” whispered Leo, rubbing his back. Yuichi sniffed again and nodded, moving to stand but wincing at the burning pain that radiated through his knees. Dammit.

“It’s okay, I got ya.” Leo grinned as he wrapped his arm around Yuichi’s waist, lifting him to stand like he weighed nothing. “Wanna grab your firewood? We’ll head back to camp an’ take a nap, okay? Panic attacks are exhaustin’.” He kissed Yuichi’s cheek with a small smile, and the rabbit yokai returned it, lingering for a moment. Yuichi watched with a grin of his own as Leo started back on the trail, going to gather the wood he’d dropped.

Damn, he was lucky to have someone who loved him so much.

prompts below! from @unboundprompts

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

I Thought My Autistic Meltdowns Were Panic Attacks

Neurodivergent_lou

[number1ladsboykisser]

NOT YOUR FAULT

plot: in which zayne has a full blown panic attack after a disastrous failed surgery, therefore, you comfort him.

cw: panic attacks, significant amounts of anxiety and stress, mentions of death.

this story is based off of the upcoming 10 days with you memory, although we do not know if that is sweat or tears, i’m just going to assume it is tears for the sake of this story.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep..

Zayne tried everything.

CPR.

Defibrilliziation.

Epinephrine.

Nothing.

No signs of life. His ears rang and his eyes glistened with a pool of tears. It was all his fault wasn’t it? According to his mind, it was, and the panic bloomed throughout his chest, his heart beating quicker than before.

The patients heart isn’t beating though. he reminded himself, and his breathing became more labored and broken up.

Everyone had already left the room after they cleaned and sent the body to the morgue.

He huffed on his way around the hospital, passing through the different sectors of care. As he walked through the corridors he felt his heart rate spiking and a sudden dizziness overcoming him.

He needed to sit down.

Zayne rushed to an empty room, sitting down on the neatly arranged bed. The room glowed with the warm moonlight that was flooding through the windows.

And that was when it hit him.

A choking sensation grew in his throat, his body racking with tremors and heavy shivers. His heart physically and mentally burned. Was he having a heart attack? Cardiac arrest?

No.

It was very clearly a panic attack.

He had never had one before, he knew he had watched videos on how to calm down (just in case), but his mind was so engulfed in fog and anxiety that he couldn’t think of the methods to stop it.

MC

(Yesss! I know, sorry for the change of POV)

I wandered through the seemingly endless corridors of Akso Hospital, looking for Zayne, it had been two hours since he said that he would be home. And can you blame a girl for worrying after her boyfriend doesn’t answer her heavy load of calls?

Only god knew what Zayne was up to. But I swear I felt it in my blood that it had something to do with that surgery Zayne mentioned that he had scheduled, maybe the procedure was taking longer than expected?

The moment I saw a receptionist, I darted into their direction and asked, “Hey, Do you know what is happening with the surgery in Room 245?”

The receptionist replied with a short “Hm..”

“Oh. The patient flatlined a little while ago, so sorry. Was she your family member or something?” The receptionist answered my question.

“Ah. No. Gotta go, sorry.” I replied and quickly walked to, and then into the elevator.

I clicked the 2 on the dark number pad and stood still.

He’s probably just giving his condolences to his family right?

Nope. Not the time to overthink this! Just have to make sure Zayne is doing ok.

This is probably pretty stressful for him. But then the elevator chimed and the doors slid open cleanly, I walked out and wandered through the hallways once again.

I had to click pause on my steps as a random rooms door was left open slightly, and not to mention.. there was someone breathing pretty heavily in there.

I should check on whoever that is to make sure that they’re ok.

I wandered to the wooden door and grasped the doorknob firmly, peeking inside, I saw a figure, a man, I would suppose.

“Sir?”

He just sat there and shook violently as his breathing grew heavy.

I slowly opened the door.

“Sir? Are you al-”

Zayne?

“Zayne is that you..?”

I rushed to his side and stared for a singular second as his arm twitched and his fingers gripped the bed.

I had never seen him like this.

My mind raced to the videos that I watched over panic attacks and how to stop them. I knew that he had watched them too so why was this even happening?

Flatlined.

The patient, she flatlined, Zayne was operating on her.

Oh.

I sprung into action and my mouth immediately opened

“Zayne..!”

“Zayne, you need to listen to me.” I spoke, my tone loud enough for him to hear in his likely cloudy head.

His eyes swiveled towards me.

“Can you name 3 things you can see?”

It took him a while to respond.

“Y-you.” Zayne hesitated and I placed a hand on his back, “The Curtains, and a Bedside table..”

“Ok. Good.. Now 3 things you can hear.” I spoke in a lighter tone.

“The wind outside, Chattering outside of the door… and some footsteps.”

“What about 3 things you can touch?” I spoke as Zayne visibly calmed down, his eyes still filled with unreleased tears.

“The bed.. the floor, and my leg.” He said softly.

Zayne looked up at me with his glossy eyes, his bottom lip trembling, almost unnoticeable.

The moment I nodded, he immediately let a strangled sound which was followed by him trying to muffle himself by burying himself between my thighs. My shorts were quickly drenched by the gallons of tears that Zayne let out.

“It’s okay.. It wasn’t your fault Zayne..” I brushed my fingers through his black hair.

He responded by placing his arms underneath my legs and sobbing harder.

“But what if it was?” he asked through his cries.

My heart felt like a knife had just pierced it.

I tried not to cry.

“Zayne. I know you try your hardest throughout each and every surgery-” I had to collect myself to stop myself from crying too. “So if it was anyone’s fault, it was certainly”

Not yours.

Not your fault.

hiya guys, my first work on this account, hope you enjoy!

this fic was written in one day and was created when I was half asleep.

please let me know if there are any Grammatical, or medically incorrect parts of this story.

baii!

[victimeyez]

And Not a Drop to Drink

Chapter 25 of Professional//Victim - Masterlist Here

Caius, Tommy, and Sam have a day out.

Whaaaaat? Tommy comfort?? Well, Caius is still Caius, but I hope this helps scratch the comfort itch several folks have requested.

Content warning: Manipulation, intimate whumper, intimate whumpee, panic attacks, brief ableist language, captive whumpee, shock collars, drugging, Caius is weird and gross but Tommy like. Gets it.

The rest of the drive out passed in a drugged haze. Sam kept him so stoned he did little else than drool in the backseat. He’d be released a once or twice a day to stumble bleary-eyed into a gas station bathroom, with Caius keeping him as close as possible without being blindingly obvious. His collar was wrapped in a bandana, but if he stepped an inch out of line, Caius could drop him with the press of a button. Even after all this time, the thought of being shocked made Tommy’s stomach churn. It wasn’t doing much else, between the painkillers and his restricted diet. 

Tommy had been complying as much as possible, trying to prove obedience before he would do what he was planning, but he wasn’t sure if Sam genuinely meant to be overdosing him. He knew it was a three day drive out when they left, but he couldn’t remember what day it was. The time blurred together - drugged in the backseat, drugged and stuffed in the hidden trunk while Caius and Sam enjoyed some attraction on the way, drugged in the back seat again. Pit stop, more pills, motel, a five minute shower. The most excitement he got was a clamshell full of leftovers from wherever they stopped for dinner. They had done dinner - twice? Or three times? He’d gotten a sandwich, but maybe that was a leftover lunch they gave him that time…Was it three days out including the day they left? His brain was turned to slush with the constant medication.

“I think it’s too much for me, I’m feeling sick,” he weakly protested when Sam tried to feed him more pills. 

“I’ll be quiet, I’m being good. Could I just take them a little later, please?” 

Sam might have told him to stop being a little bitch and take the pills - but he was a little more hesitant after the incident at the lab. He and Caius exchanged looks. Caius shrugged, but relented.

“I guess he’s been pretty conked out. He can look out the window for a bit.” 

Tommy breathed out a slow, quiet sigh of relief. Sam looked irritated, but held his tongue for once. 

Maybe he was trying to behave for Caius, too. 

It was nice to be awake for a while, and his head began to clear. He lolled his head against the window, desperate for the sunlight that made it through the tinted windows. Whenever Caius and Sam stopped, he was packed away in the dark while they got to walk in the sunshine. He felt a pang of longing when they pulled into an aquarium Sam had raved about. He looked at all the pictures on the building of fish and penguins and seals doing tricks, trying to memorize them all before he was inevitably put back in the hole. 

Cauis took to the backseat to usher Tommy into the trunk. When he leaned over him to unbuckle his cuffs, Tommy took a risk. 

He leaned in, nuzzling his nose into the soft spot between Caius’s ear. It surprised him enough that he drew back for a moment, giving Tommy a funny look. Tommy leaned in again and kissed his cheek. Little crinkles at the corner of Caius’s eyes appeared when he smiled, but he rolled his eyes. 

“Ooookay, what do you want?”

Tommy smiled shyly, his heart in his throat. He swallowed it down, Caius was still waiting. He was in a good mood though, his voice playful. Tommy could work with that.

“I’d….really like to come to the aquarium with you,” he murmured. Sweetly, like he was confessing to a crush.

“Do you have the tickets on your phone?” Sam called, from his place stretching outside the car. 

“Yeah,” Caius called back. He finished unlocking Tommy’s handcuffs and sat back again. He squinted at him suspiciously, seeming to think. That was good, the fact that he was even considering it. Tommy put on his biggest puppy dog eyes, tucking his head down meekly, playing coy.

“Please, Caius, let me show you I can be good. I’m participating now, I’m all in.”

Caius chewed it over, his eyes drifting to where Tommy’s covered collar hugged his neck. 

No, don’t let him think too much – make him want it.

Tommy leaned in, slowly. Caius let him, curious enough to see what he would do. Tommy nuzzled his neck, right in the crook of his jaw, and traced the tip of his tongue up to his ear, nibbling on the lobe. 

“Let’s have some fun,” he whispered, before pulling back again, giving him a timid grin. Mild, playful. Tease and back off, the dance he had to do to get something from Caius. If he could convince Caius that it was his idea, not Tommy’s, he might get a little something he wants. 

Oh, Caius’s eyes lit up though. Tommy had said just the right words. He felt a little thrill of excitement inside, a prickle of hope he constantly tried to suppress before he could be disappointed. Caius caught his chin, tilting his head back. 

“How could I say no to you?” 

Tommy beamed. Push down the bitter taste. We’re going to see some fucking penguins. 

~

Sam wasn’t enthusiastic about it, but it was happening. Tommy stood at the ticket booth with them, pinching himself when the attendant handed him a ticket. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!

The aquarium gates opened to a wide cement path walkway, where crowds of people were milling around. Kids raced past, an angry dad chasing them into the giftshop. The distinct smell of fries permeated the air from a stand nearby, and other stands lining the path boasted carnival food. Cotton candy, elephant ears, lemonade. Tommy had been in public with Caius a little bit before, but not like this, and it was suddenly too much. Even when they went to the conference, there was no escaping his status at the bottom. Among regular people, pretending to be a regular person, was daunting. Everyone was looking at him, overdressed for the heat with his bandana and vest and long pants. Still limping slightly, his leg twingeing once in a while. 

Can they tell? Can they see the things I’ve done?

Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the shaking. The sun was bright, tinned music played through speakers, it was a bombardment to his senses and utterly overwhelming. 

“Are you okay?” Caius asked, his arm slithering around Tommy’s shoulders. “Do you need to go back to the car?”

No. Don’t be a spazz, enjoy this. This might be…the only time. The thought made his heart ache, but he nodded.

“I’ll be fine.” He gave Caius a crooked smile, and Caius patted him on the back. 

“Good. Shall we?”

Caius took his hand, either sensing his anxiety or keeping him close. Either way, it was a comfort in a funny way. Tommy squeezed his hand, and Caius squeezed back. 

I can do this. It’s just another role to play.

Tommy settled in better once he started thinking of it as an act, relieved of the pressure to be a genuine human. There were so many distractions that it helped keep his mind off of his sore leg. Among all the other people, he realized how starkly pale he really was, his skin nearly translucent under the sun. Caius ended up buying an extra bottle of sunscreen to give Tommy a generous coat. He also let him pick out a baseball cap, pushing his unruly curls out of the way to put it on him. It was light blue with white embroidery reading CRESLEY COUNTY AQUARIUM with a shark on it. 

“It’s a blacktip reef shark,” he explained to Caius. 

“You know sharks?” Sam asked, but for once he genuinely sounded curious. Tommy nodded, showing him the hat. 

“I mean - I can name a few, that’s all. I read The Shark Lady as a kid and it like, blew my mind.” 

“I was a sharks and dinosaurs kid, maybe a little more into dinosaurs. That’s cool. God, I haven’t thought about that in ages.”

It was strange to have such a friendly exchange with Sam. Caius smiled approvingly at Tommy, and he smiled back, because he felt like smiling.

He smiled a lot while they were there - so much so that his face hurt. He felt an enormous pressure to somehow enjoy himself hard enough that it could last him for a while. Every tank and exhibit filled him with wonder and joy, but his inevitable return to misery breathed down his neck. 

The exhibits indoors were stunning. Tommy stood in a hallway, surrounded on all sides by the biggest viewing tank he’d ever seen. He watched the lazy path of a hammerhead shark cruising overhead from one side of the tank to the next, amazed at the glimpse of the creature's pale belly over the domed hallway ceiling. 

He could watch it for hours - the gentle flow of the ecosystem around him, predators effortlessly mixing with prey. A little loudspeaker on the floor explained they were so well fed, they posed almost no threat to the other inhabitants of the tank. Tommy wanted to take it all in. He imagined swimming through the tank beside a swarm of metallic silver fish that passed by, and felt a familiar pang of longing. He was a strong swimmer. It fell low on the list out of all the things he missed in his new life, but he missed swimming. 

A subtle movement drew his eyes to a large, mossy rock lurking in the bottom. It wasn’t until it extended its webbed feet that he realized he was looking at an enormous turtle. It started to make its way up, exposing its armored underside to the people milling in the hallway with Tommy. One flipper seemed deformed on its right side, and its path careened in an arc to the right. The creature looked befuddled, but quickly distracted as it leveled out and saw through the glass. It was looking right at Tommy, its little face right at eye level.

Tommy was swept up in a sudden ennui, and he gravitated towards the turtle. He felt like it should be a moment in a movie, where he has this one perfect moment where he would make a spiritual connection with the turtle. One that would somehow change the course of his life. An origin story for - turtle man, or some shit. Wait, something about the teenage mutant-

“Sir, step away from the glass,” a droll voice droned. Tommy realized he was pressed to the glass, his splayed hands flanking his nose against the thick aquarium wall. The employee startled him and he violently pulled back, stumbling into Caius. 

“Oh, I’m –  I’m so sorry, I didn’t –”

“Yeah, well we have to clean it, you know.”

Tommy flushed bright red with shame, his heart a wretched machine clamoring inside his chest. Tears sprung in his eyes, overflowing when he tried to blink them away. Caius put a hand over his mouth, pulling him back against his body hard.

“Sorry about that.” Caius stayed cool, but his voice was clipped. The employee, disenchanted in spite of the scene around her, grunted in response and trudged on about her way. 

Caius swept him through the hallway, easy enough to keep from drawing attention, but Tommy could feel the tension. He wanted to look back at his turtle friend, but Caius yanked him along.

On the other side, Caius took a quick look around before making a beeline toward the bathrooms. A mother and her children were exiting the family restroom, and Caius caught the door before it closed, drawing a few odd looks. He pushed Tommy through and shut the door, turning the lock behind him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” Tommy immediately began groveling, but fell silent when Caius raised a hand. 

“You need to get it together, or you’re going back into the car and staying there. Do you understand?” Tommy nodded shakily, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes as quickly as they formed. He didn’t know why he was crying, but the last hours were suddenly crashing down on him. He put one hand over his mouth and layered it with the other, stifling a sob.  

Caius fiddled with his phone, texting Sam to explain their sudden departure. Tommy turned and saw his face, red and blotchy in the mirror. He’d turned his hat around when they came in for the inside exhibits, and he took it off to set it on the counter. He stared at it as a focus point while he tried to calm down his panting, absentmindedly rubbing his arms up and down to soothe himself. He felt Caius’s hand on his shoulder, his other hand stroking his hair back from his sweaty forehead. 

“What’s wrong, little one? Aren’t you having a good time?”

Tommy hiccuped and looked up, meeting Caius’s eyes in the mirror. He looked concerned, genuinely.

“I am,” Tommy told him, and turned to face him, though he kept his eyes downcast. 

“I am having a really - a really wonderful time. Thank you for letting me come.”

Caius cradled his face in his broad hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

The erratic moments of intimacy Caius provided could be so startling - and he could fly into a rage just as fast. Tommy sniffled pathetically and forced his gaze up, giving Caius wide doe eyes. 

Caius suddenly leaned in, holding Tommy in place as he dove down to kiss him. He caught him off guard, his mouth opened slightly in surprise, and Caius pressed his lips to his urgently. Tommy made a small sound of surprise that Caius stole, licking into his mouth. Tommy went weak, bewildered by the abrupt shift. 

Just stay still and let it happen. Caius had whispered that to him before, and he obeyed now, limp in his crushing embrace. Caius pulled back after a few moments, keeping his hold on his face while he licked long, slow stripes up Tommy’s cheeks. He lapped the tears away, his warm tongue leaving cool paths in their wake. 

The odd change of pace had actually startled Tommy out of his fit, and his panting slowed, the grooming calming him. He knew objectively was strange, but he was in tune with his master. Caius was comforting him in his own way - not a man lapping up his tears, but a mother cat grooming her young. Their bond was tangible, in these moments when they just connected. Tommy could do it sometimes with clients, but with Caius, it felt all-consuming. He pulled back and they met eyes, an understanding passing between them.

“Better?”

Tommy felt a little dizzy, wrapped up in Caius’s feelings, unsure of his own. 

“Yes, Caius,” He murmured back, his eyes lowering. A sharp knock at the door broke the tension, and Caius pulled away to check his phone. Tommy splashed some cold water on his face to quell the red around his eyes. Caius opened the bathroom door to Sam standing outside. 

“Y’all good?”

~

They toured the rest of the aquarium without further incident. Tommy was hard to get away from the touch tank exhibit, delighted by the stingrays that sucked toothlessly at his hands. 

“Their tails are clipped so they can’t sting you, but it doesn’t hurt them. It’s just like trimming nails,” an attending employee told him. She had lots of orange hair and a nice smile.

“That’s so cool, do you do that?”

“Oh, well, no,” she seemed a little sheepish to admit. 

“Still, that’s - that’s really cool, that you work here. They’re really…great.” Tommy cringed a little at his lame conversation, but she smiled again, and he smiled back. He gave her a little wave when Sam pulled him away, and she waved, too. He felt a squeeze in his chest.

I made a friend. 

Caius bought him a lemonade and fed him some boardwalk fries from his late lunch. The fried food and sugary lemonade made him feel a little sick, but he was starving after smelling it again and again over the last couple of hours.

It was hard to leave when it was time to go, but Tommy was admittedly worn out after walking so much. He hadn’t had that much sunlight in - years, really. He couldn’t remember the last time he had this much exercise, either, and he was fading fast. His exhaustion made him docile, and he slumped against the car window while he was locked back into his seat. Sam didn’t have to drug him - he quickly fell asleep.

~

~

~

Taglist:

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Thank you all so much for reading!!!