#this is me trying to deal with a panic attack by writing instead of taking anxiolityc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelstoriesepic · 3 months

Text

Still on the list

Pairing: Frat!College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.

Word count: 14.1k

Warnings: annoyance to friends to lovers; panic attacks!; creepy man; angst and comfort; Bucky is a frat boy

author’s note: This took longer than I hoped, but I love it!

Masterlist

One minute.

One minute did it take for the class to end and yet it felt like an eternity.

You stared at the clock in anticipation, not paying an ounce of attention to what your professor was talking about.

Was he even talking?

Were you supposed to write something down?

You wouldn’t know.

RIING

Finally, the blissful sound of the bell pierced through the monotony.

You took your eyes off the clock in the far corner of the lecture hall, a sigh of relief leaving your lips and started packing your stuff.

“Alright class! See you on Monday! Have a great weekend.” Your professor exclaimed before walking out of the hall with a wave.

Amidst the chorus of thank you’s and see you on Monday’s and packing your laptop in your bag, alongside your pen and notebook (basically for small, unnecessary doodles, instead of notes) including your water bottle, you noticed Wanda slipping onto the bench beside you with her backpack draped over her right shoulder and an amused smile plastered on her face.

“Late again,” she teased.

You groaned. “Blame that slowpoke of a bus driver.”

“You know you can always ride with Pietro and me.” She nudged your shoulder playfully.

You offered her a grateful smile but shook your head. “It’s inconvenient for you.”

After being forced to live on campus for your first year of college you decided to get a small apartment to save some money and get the privacy you wanted and needed. Living on campus was expensive enough and with the small amount of money you got for working in a café and babysitting sometimes in the evening there wasn’t much left for you to enjoy yourself a little.

You never really enjoyed living in a dorm together with someone you didn’t know and sharing that same space. Your roommate for that first year was perpetually boisterous and tried dragging you to every party within a five-mile radius. Despite your initial resistance, you eventually succumbed to peer pressure. After enduring an eternity of loud music and plastic cups thrust into your hand, you found yourself in the grim confines of a bathroom stall, holding back your roommate‘s unruly hair as she retched into the toilet bowl. It was a moment of disillusionment that solidified your resolve to seek solitude and sanctuary away from the chaos of dormitory life.

Though you hated every minute of that day, in the end, you were glad you went, because it was where you met Wanda.

As fate would have it, Wanda found herself reluctantly dragged to the same party by none other than her brother, Pietro. Aforementioned guy managed to catch your roommate since she ‘accidentally’ slipped in front of him. She kept giggling with his arms draped around her and you apologized to him and Wanda though you knew it was actually really not your fault.

So while your roommate occupied Pietro you had a pleasant conversation with his sister. You clicked immediately.

“It takes ten minutes Y/n, it’s truly no big deal.”

“Well, I’ll keep it in mind! Thanks, Wan!”

You walked out of the hall and crossed campus together. Since you just had this one lecture today you signed in for a shift at the café you worked at and were just about to bid Wanda goodbye when-

“Maximoff!”

You didn’t make any attempt to even try not to roll your eyes.

Wanda turned around and so did you eventually, not concealing your dissatisfaction with the approaching guy, a scowl forming on your face.

Bucky Barnes.

Of course.

Now, there were a lot of things you tolerated. It was hard to rile you up, but Bucky Barnes? He exceeded every limit.

You couldn’t stand the guy. And he knew it.

He caught up to you girls and kept his attention on your friend.

“Hey, Wanda! You have a minute?”

Before she could react he turned to you, pretending to see you just now.

“Oh. Y/n! Haven’t seen you there.”

You wanted to punch that arrogant grin off his face.

“What do you want?”

“Well as I was gonna ask Wanda,” he emphasized her name with a playful drawl and turned to her, “You and your brother are coming today right? Sam got the drinks and we got a new beer pong table. We gotta initiate it correctly.”

Another eye roll escaped you as Wanda shot you a brief, amused glance before addressing Bucky. “Pietro’ll come. The party was the only thing he talked about this morning.”

“Perfect!” Bucky grinned. “You’ll come too right? You can have a plus one!” He nodded his head towards you while meeting your steely gaze with unwavering confidence.

“Nothing will get me to enter your stupid frat party Barnes!” you retorted dryly.

Bucky’s grin remained firmly in place, his cockiness bordering on infuriating.

“Well I’ll be there,” he declared, turning his attention toward you with a smirk.

You cocked your head. “There’s the reason why.”

A soft sigh from Wanda diverted your attention, prompting you to check the time on your phone.

“Whatever, I gotta go!” With a brief hug, you bid her goodbye.

“Text me later?”

“Course, Wan!”

You flashed her a quick smile before striding away, ignoring Bucky’s futile attempt to prolong the conversation.

“Where ya going?” he shouted after you.

“Work!” Your response was curt and you continued your way.

****

“That’ll be 4.75$.”

The girl in front of you swiped her card through the card reader and you placed the cup with her latte on the counter separating you.

You thanked her for the small tip and turned away when she left, to stock up on the coffee beans. You leaned down and grabbed the bag out of a drawer from under the counter as you heard the door to the shop open.

Your coworker went to the storage room to store the milk that came in a few minutes before and it wasn’t that busy so you were good on your own out front.

“Just a sec!” you called while opening the bag and pouring the beans in, standing with your back to the counter.

“All good! I’m in no hurry.”

You stilled for a second, almost pouring over the beans. Although you couldn’t see him right now you could tell he wore that shit-eating grin again.

You pulled the bag away harshly with a few falling out. You would take care of that later. Probably not though.

You put the bag aside, preparing yourself to turn around, and came face to face with the one and only Bucky Barnes.

Seriously?

Two times in a day?

You wiped over your apron and met his gaze. “What can I get you?” You tried feigning that kindness you were supposed to show your guests though you knew you could try more.

Not taken aback by your grimace and still slightly annoyed tone he leaned on the counter and pretended to contemplate what to get.

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him.

“I think I’ll go for a black coffee,” He grinned at you.

You uncrossed your arms to get to work. “Small, medium, large?” You were really trying to stay professional here.

“I’ll take it medium, doll.”

It wasn’t the first time he called you that, though you‘ve heard it come out of his mouth plenty of times to plenty of girls so you guessed he didn’t even recognize he was calling you that too.

You got to work while Bucky watched you intently, still leaning on the counter.

You hoped he would stay silent but guessed that thought was futile since he walked in here.

“So, you think about coming?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t thought about it or no, you aren’t coming?”

“Both.”

It wasn’t the first time he somehow tried to get you to come to one of his frat parties. Be it through Wanda or Pietro or just blatantly asking you to come. You knew your answer every time. He should have known that too but he seemingly never stopped trying.

“Aww, come on doll! Already put you on the list.”

“Do whatever you please Barnes but I’m not coming,” you retorted while finishing up his coffee and sliding it across the counter over to him. “That’ll be 2.95$.”

Will Wanda come?” He didn’t attempt to grab the cup, instead he stayed rooted and looked at you.

“Don’t know. Maybe”

After that party your former roommate dragged you to, you avoided them at all costs and managed not to attend any other. Wanda sometimes came along with Pietro to get him back home after drinking too much. You considered coming along for moral support a few times but didn’t want to give Bucky the satisfaction of getting you to come. And Wanda always claimed she‘d be fine.

He leaned to take the cup of coffee and a milk pack from beside where you were standing.

“Alright well, you know where to go,” he slid over a 5$ bill. “Keep the change!” He lifted the cup a bit. “And thanks!” Giving you his signature smirk.

“Barnes that’s too much for a single coffee!” you protested and were about to collect his change but he was already halfway out of the shop.

“Keep it!” he threw over his shoulder and you looked after him a little irritated.

His persistence annoyed you to no end so why did your lips curl up in a smile, despite yourself?

****

You didn’t come.

It was nearly midnight and you found yourself nestled in your bed, the soft glow of your laptop illuminating the room as you rewatched a movie for the umpteenth time.

There probably would be a few things you’d like to do instead, but going to one of Bucky's notorious frat parties, will just never be one of them.

You couldn’t even really tell why you held such a grudge against the guy. He never really was explicitly rude or anything, yet there was something about his demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way.

Bucky Barnes had been a constant presence on campus since day one. Whether it was in the hallways or outside the building, Bucky was always surrounded by a rotating cast of admirers, girls vying for his attention. It became a familiar sight to see him engrossed in conversation with yet another girl, his charm seemingly boundless.

Amidst the flurry of attention and admiration that surrounded Bucky, there were moments when his gaze seemed to linger in your direction as if seeking to ensnare your attention as he did with others. You’d catch him looking at you in the hallways. You’d see him standing outside your lecture hall, although he didn’t even attend this class. However, you never attempted to acknowledge him and were set on keeping your distance.

In your second semester, you found yourself sharing a course with him. That was where he first initiated interactions with you. At first, it was a subtle passing glance, a nod, and a smile of acknowledgment, but soon his efforts to engage with you became more pronounced. It started with a request for notes when he wasn’t there the other day. And then there were times when you ran late and he saved you a seat beside him, sending you a wave and a charming grin.

But then you would watch him effortlessly flirt with other girls, letting them sit on his lap and whispering in their ear, you having the front row seat. You couldn’t pinpoint why his flirting with other girls left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it deepened your reservation, solidifying your decision to maintain a sense of distance.

Despite not sharing any classes with Bucky in your second year, he seemed determined not to let your lack of proximity deter his efforts to engage with you. His persistent attempts to catch your attention continued unabated - although you never gave him much to work with - seeming to find a way to cross paths with you all the time.

The first time he asked you to come to one of his frat parties, you were sitting in a small booth at a café near campus, nursing a latte and discussing your professors together with Wanda and Pietro.

You laugh. “Right? She once even gave-”

“Pietro! Hey, man,” comes his voice across the café and Bucky Barnes approaches you three.

You drop your smile and divert your attention to your latte as Bucky greets Pietro and Wanda.

“Y/n! Nice to see you.” His voice dripping with charm.

Upon hearing your name you lift your head and offer a strained smile, hoping to convey at least a semblance of politeness.

“Hi,” you answer lamely, not an ounce of enthusiasm found in your voice.

Bucky’s smirk deepens in response, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Your smile turns into a grimace.

“You coming tonight man?” he asks Pietro.

“Course Buck! I‘ll be there.”

“Great!” His attention turns to you.

“You girls are welcome too, you know.”Although addressing both, Wanda and you, he keeps his gaze on you.

“Yeah, no thanks!”

“We’ll think about it!”

Wanda sends you a glare, reminding you to stay nice. Though Bucky doesn’t seem fazed by your lack of interest, the boyish smirk still present on his lips.

“Well, I’d be happy to see you.”

You don’t even have time to answer him when a brunette, standing at the counter, calls his name.

You look in her direction though his eyes remain on you a few seconds longer until he turns away and bids his goodbye. Wanda and Pietro answer him while you remain silent, taking refuge in your coffee cup.

He was attractive, you gotta give him that but you never were someone to go after looks. There were so many more important things to see in people. Sure, you don’t know how he treated or saw his flings, or hookups, or whatever but you supposed you didn’t wanna know.

****

After you worked your ass off at the café during the weekend you were more than unpleased to be sitting in your lecture hall at 8 in the morning on a Monday. At least the bus was on time you supposed.

Wanda slid in beside you and put down a cup of coffee in front of you before unpacking her backpack.

“Oh god Wan, you’re an Angel!” You took a big sip and sighed dramatically.

Wanda snickered softly, organizing her notes.

“You know, Pietro told me someone was a bit disappointed,” she began and you looked at her confused.

“The party,” she continued but you just stared at her oblivious.

She sighed. “He hoped you’d come this time.” She studied you with a careful expression but you saw the corners of her lips turning up lightly.

You blinked. “Why would he think that?”

Wanda shrugged. “Well he’s pretty persistent,” She studied you some more and you began to feel uneasy, “You could give him a chance.”

“Huh?” you mumbled, caught off guard.

Turning toward you fully, Wanda leaned in slightly. “I don’t really know him that well, but he’s different with you. Pietro’s mentioned it. He’s never made this much effort with anyone else.“

Perplexed, you pondered her words.

“And honestly,” Wanda continued, “He’s a nice guy. I mean I get he’s got girls around all the time-”

You grimaced.

“-but he’s not the guy to lead anyone on or make someone feel worthless, I’m sure of it.”

That got you silent and you looked at her, pouting your lips in contemplation.

“He had a girlfriend once but as far as Pietro knows it didn’t end well. She moved away and they tried that long-distance relationship crap-”

You raised an eyebrow.

“-but she then started seeing someone else without telling him.”

You exhaled deeply, processing the information. “Alright well that sucks…sure…but is that a reason to use girls like that?”

“How are you so sure that’s what this is?” Wanda countered

Before you could respond, your professor arrived, saving you from further discussion. You were kinda glad he was on time cause you really had no idea how to answer that. You couldn’t know what he does with those girls. What he told them. How he treated them. How he made them feel.

Actually

You didn’t know anything about him at all.

****

Nearly two weeks had passed and you haven’t seen Bucky since he came by the café you worked at. Despite your efforts to push him out of your mind, you found yourself occasionally thinking about him or scanning the hallways for a glimpse of him.

Wanda got sick the day prior so you were sitting alone in class. After making idle conversation with some fellow students, you decided to stay back and finish up your notes.

You heard footsteps approaching but didn’t look up until someone settled beside you.

“That looks kinda complicated.”

Irritation bubbled up, but you were surprised to find you didn’t immediately feel the urge to roll your eyes all the way up to your brain at the sound of his voice. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, a sigh leaving your lips

“What are you doing here? This isn’t even your class!”

“Came looking for ya,” he replied, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

You returned your attention back to your notes. “What for?”

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell?” He grinned and bumped your upper arm lightly.

That was the first time he initiated any form of physical contact and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Another party, I assume,” you remarked plainly.

“Smart girl! Missed you the last time.”

“Then have fun missing me this time as well,” you retorted, not bothering to look at him.

You felt his eyes on your profile but didn’t turn to him.

“Well just wanted to let you know you’re still on the list,” he said, his voice laced with that characteristic smirk.

That dude really wouldn’t give up, would he?

Quickly finishing your notes and packing away your things, you draped your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave the hall. As you turned to go, you glanced back at him.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm, though deep down you couldn’t deny that small part of you, that was considering his invitation this time.

****

The party started by now.

Standing in your bedroom you wavered on the threshold of the decision to go to his party or not.

You found yourself grappling with uncertainty, questioning the motivations behind your sudden inclination to attend the party. Was it a twinge of guilt for his past misfortunes that nudged you towards empathy? Or perhaps a genuine curiosity sparked by the desire to unravel the enigma of his persistent invitations?

You pondered, your thoughts swirling. Perhaps this was all a game to him? Or maybe there was something deeper, something he needed to prove to himself or to others.

Yet, the idea of subjecting yourself to potential humiliation at a frat party churned your stomach. You had no desire to be caught in the whirlwind of debauchery and recklessness.

But Wanda didn’t really make him seem like the kinda guy to pull shit like that.

Though how could she be sure?

The sudden ringing of your phone shattered the swirling thoughts that had consumed you, pulling you back to the present moment. With a grateful sigh, you glanced down at the screen, Wanda’s name lighting it up.

“Hey Wan,” you greeted her while laying back on your bed.

“Hey Y/n. I assume you’re not at the party.”

“Nope, you know me.”

“Okay well, could I ask for a favor?” Wanda’s voice held a hint of hesitation.

You sat up. “Yeah, sure Wan, what’s up?”

“Pietro will need someone to pick him up later but I’m still feeling pretty shitty at the moment and…I don’t know I was thinking maybe-“

“You’re asking me to pick him up?” you finished her sentence, sighing deeply.

“Kinda, yeah,” Wanda confirmed sheepishly.

You chuckled. “Sure, I can do that Wan, no problem.”

You could hear the relief in Wanda’s breath. “Thank you babes, I owe you! You can take his car, I’ll leave the keys under the pot outside.”

“You don’t owe me anything Wan, I’m glad I can help! You stay in bed and rest, alright? I’ll take care of your brother,” you assured her.

After exchanging a few more words, you hung up and prepared to leave. Opting for a casual outfit you threw on some wash jeans and a shirt.

Considering you spent a good amount of time on spiraling whether to go or not it got rather late already and it still would take you some time to get to Pietros car and to the party.

You grabbed the keys from under the pot, got in the car and started driving. It had been a while since you made use of your license considering you couldn’t afford your own vehicle, but you managed.

As you parked the car and stepped out onto the pavement, the distant throb of bass pulsed through the air, a tangible force that seemed to reverberate through your entire being. With each step towards the fraternity house, the music grew louder, assaulting your senses with its relentless intensity.

You walked up to the guy standing at the door with a ripped sheet of paper in his hand. You assumed that was what Bucky referred to as list.

“Hey, uh, I’m here to pick up Pietro Maximoff,” you stated, hoping to avoid being drawn into the revelry inside.

The guy’s smirk was infuriating as he chuckled dismissively. “Oh I’m sure he’s a little busy right now.”

Suppressing a sigh, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his remark.

“What’s your name sweetie, you could always go in and join the party.”

“Yeah no I’m fine, I’ll just-”

“Wait, are you the infamous Y/n?”

You blinked. You were not entirely used to people knowing your name. You’d like to believe you were nobody. Whether on campus nor in general. So why did this random guy know your name and call you infamous?

You didn’t have to answer, instead the guy nodded towards the door, granting you entry with a casual wave.

“Come on in, Buck will be thrilled to see you,” he remarked, stepping aside to let you pass.

Feeling utterly disoriented and out of place, you stepped inside, your senses assaulted by the overwhelming cacophony of noise and the oppressive heat of the crowded room. The stench of sweat and alcohol hung heavy in the air, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust. With each step, the floor seemed to cling to your shoes, a sticky reminder why you avoided this for so long.

You tried to adjust to the flickering lights and internally scolded the person who decided those colors were a good match when you heard your name be called.

“Y/n?”

You weren’t surprised to hear his voice since it was partly his party but you were surprised he recognized you this fast since you just stepped inside. Was he watching the door?

His smile greeted you as he stood before you, and you were blinded for a second there.

“You’re here!”

“Uh, well I’m kinda just here to pick up Pietro. Wanda asked me to.”

Bucky’s smile faltered slightly at your words. Clearing his throat, he offered a tentative response. “Oh. Well, haven’t seen him,” he exclaimed, his gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet yours.

As Pietro’s slurred voice called out your name, you turned to see your friend stumbling towards you, a wide grin plastered across his face. He draped an arm around your shoulders, and you instinctively supported him, wrapping your own arm around his waist to steady him.

“What’re you doin’ here, princessa?” Pietro slurred, his words punctuated by a drunken laugh.

You laughed. “Came here to pick you up, Piet. Wanda’s still not feeling well.”

But Pietro, clearly undeterred by your explanation, attempted to pull you along with him, his movements unsteady as he swayed on the spot within your hold.

“Let’s get you a drink, princessa,” he insisted, his grip tightening around you.

Refusing to indulge his request, you gently guided him towards the door, ignoring his protests. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Bucky, his jaw clenched and his eyes darting away from your close proximity.

“I guess thanks for the invite Barnes but this really isn’t my scene.” You gave him a tight lipped smile and turned to Pietro again.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the door you just disappeared behind.

****

Since that day at the party three weeks ago, Bucky had been somewhat of a ghost, disappearing from the usual campus scene. Despite not seeing him, thoughts of him seemed to linger in the back of your mind and you caught yourself looking out for him in the hallways.

You made your way to the restrooms between your two classes of the day cause you just had to drown yourself in coffee on your 4-hour shift in the café this morning.

After locking yourself in one of the cabins that still held toilet paper you heard the door to the restroom creak open and made out the hushed voices of two girls filtering in. One of them clearly crying.

“What’s wrong with me? He literally jumped in bed with every other girl on campus! Why not me?” the girl sobbed hysterically while her friend got her some paper towels from the dispenser.

You rolled your eyes at her antics and decided to just wait out until they left.

“I don’t know El, but Jake did say something about him wanting to change.” You could picture her gesturing quotation marks with her fingers at the ‘wanting to change’ part. And though you weren’t quite the type to gossip you held your breath and listened intently.

The other girl blew her nose while her friend continued.

“He hasn’t been to a party for the last, I don’t know, maybe three weeks or something. Just stayed locked in his room. That’s what Jake told me. Don’t know what to make out of it though,” the girl chuckled, “I mean it’s Bucky we’re talking about.”

As Bucky’s name entered the conversation, your ears perked up, and you felt compelled to listen. Thoughts swirl in your mind, multiplying like rabbits in a field. Was that night you picked up Pietro the last party he attended? Why the sudden disappearance into seclusion? Why would he lock himself in his room? Why did he dump that girl? You didn’t know who that Jake dude was but you weren’t sure if he was right.

You snapped out of your thoughts to catch the still crying girl whine again. “But I tried really hard Meg! I pinned notes on his locker, I smiled at him all the time, I sent him my notes from history per mail, the one time he didn’t come and I slipped my phone number into his backpack when he wasn’t looking-”

Suddenly you were grateful for standing right beside a toilet cause you felt the urge to vomit.

“-and he just straight up told me he’s not interested?!”

You heard the other girl, Meg, probably short for Meghan or something but why would you care, sigh. “I’m sorry El, but maybe he’s really just trying to become better than that.”

The crying thankfully stopped and was replaced by a scoff and an exasperated intake of breath. Personally, you’d describe it as overly dramatic but who were you to judge.

As the girls finally departed, leaving behind the remnants of their dramatic exchange, you released a sigh of relief.

After finishing what you came in here for in the first place you left the restroom as well and walked through the hallway on your way to your next class.

And as god, or the devil, or Mother Nature, or something the fuck else wouldn’t have it any other way there he was. Bucky was standing at his locker, taking a look at a pink piece of paper in his hand for only a second before crumpling it in his fist. You could only guess what it was.

He turned to the trash can to throw it in there and when he looked back up he met your gaze. His eyes lit up at seeing you, but nevertheless, you noticed the tired look he wore and couldn’t help but feel kinda bad for him.

Normally when passing Bucky in the hallway you wouldn’t spare him an attention spawn over two seconds but here you were giving him a somewhat genuine smile, a rare display of empathy, which he reciprocated immediately.

Even as you turned the corner and continued on your way, you couldn’t shake the sensation of his eyes lingering on you. You couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading in your stomach.

Bucky stopped asking you to come to his parties. As far as you knew he didn’t even attend them himself anymore. You shared with Wanda what you overheard in the restroom, and after confirming with Pietro, it became clear that Bucky was indeed making some significant changes in his lifestyle.

Bucky Barnes was truly an enigma.

Armed with insider information from Wanda, you learned that Bucky refrained from being seen with any girl for weeks and stopped planning and attending the frat parties. He seemingly even talked about leaving the fraternity altogether.

You don’t know what to do with those information but you did notice a shift yourself. You saw Bucky again two times since you passed him in the hallway a few days ago.

You were walking through the library together with Pietro and Wanda when you saw him sitting there in the far corner with his textbook open and a pencil poised. You stood and drank in the sight of him for a moment. His brows were furrowed deep in concentration and he lightly tapped his pen on his notebook rhythmically. He let his hair grow out a little, wisps falling onto his forehead. He sure as hell was a sight for sore eyes.

As if he picked up on your staring he lifted his head and looked over in your direction. The intensity of Bucky’s gaze sent a jolt through you, causing your heart to race as you hastily averted your eyes, feigning interest in the books on the nearby shelf. Despite your attempt to appear nonchalant, you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on you.

Stealing another glance in his direction, finding him still watching you, his soft smile a stark contrast to the cocky grin you were accustomed to. The corners of your mouth lifted ever so slightly without having your consent.

The sudden interruption of Pietro’s arm around your shoulders broke the spell between Bucky and you, snapping him out of his reverie. With a subtle shift in his posture, he straightened his back and lowered his head back to his textbook.

The other time, yesterday, you decided to join Wanda and grab something to eat at the canteen. As you stood in line with Wanda you were the one to feel eyes on you, prompting you to turn and find Bucky’s piercing blue gaze fixed on you.

Your lips curled in a smile and Bucky’s sweet grin in response sent a flutter through your chest.

To your own disappointment, you ended up sitting with your back to him throughout eating, though you pushed it aside.

****

It was a long day.

You had a shift at the café this morning and then went straight to Uni where you dragged yourself through your classes of the day. It was already starting to get dark when you walked around campus to get to your bus station.

This was your routine on Wednesdays but something felt weird. There was a shiver creeping up your spine and you tightened your coat around yourself, hugging your waist, as a response to that feeling of unease.

“Hey! Girl!”

Your heart dropped at the shout and although it came from behind you, you just knew it was meant for you. Unconsciously you picked up your pace, hugging yourself tighter and scolding yourself for not getting pepper spray.

“Hey, you! I’m talking to you!”

You heard quick footsteps approaching you from behind and let out a gasp as rough fingers grabbed onto your wrist, turning you to the man with that gruff voice.

He was tall. His beard, grizzly and grossly outgrown, held a few drops of whatever might be in the bottle he held in his other hand. His clothes were lumpy and held stains, dark eyes pierced through you.

“I’m sure you’re so kind to give a man some money for cigarettes, little girl, huh?”

You stared at the man in front of you, frozen out of fear. Your heart plummeted in your chest and you felt the hand around your wrist tightening. You swallowed thickly but your throat still felt like sandpaper. You wanted to talk but nothing left your mouth.

“Well if I don’t get money you could always pay me differently,” He licked his lips and his eyes roamed over your body. He got hold of your other wrist and you suppressed a whimper.

You wanted to yell at him to let you go. You wanted to kick him where the sun wouldn’t shine. You wanted to scream for anybody to help you. But you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, your voice lost in your throat.

“Hey!”

Another voice.

“Let her go!”

You knew this voice. It was oddly familiar, but you couldn’t comprehend how you knew it.

There was a figure approaching in long, fast strikes and you wanted to go take a look but the man still standing in front of you grabbed you even tighter, which led to another gasp exiting your lips.

You heard your name called and looked in the direction of the newcomer.

Bucky.

It was Bucky.

Relief flooded your body and you finally were able to take a controlled intake of breath again.

“Do you know this guy?” Bucky's concerned gaze bored into you and you shook your head weakly.

That’s all he needed to turn to the guy still having a hold on your wrists. “You let her go right now!” The dangerously low and calm tone of his voice and the way he was talking to you way softer just seconds before let you shiver and caused your head to spin.

The other guy scoffed and let your wrists fall to take a step back, holding his arms up in a surrendering kind of way. Bucky immediately stepped in front of you. “Relax man, did nothing to that girl!”

“You better want to stay the hell away from her or anyone else. I don’t want to see you here again!” Bucky’s voice was laced with a dark, threatening tone, his stance unwavering as he shielded you from the menacing stranger. Despite the age difference, Bucky’s intimidation factor was undeniable.

Said man scoffed and stumbled away a little. Bucky kept watching him till he was out of sight and turned to you in an instant. Not sure if you were okay to be touched, his hands hovered over your arms as he leaned down to catch your eye, his concern evident in every gesture.

“Hey, Y/n, are you okay?”

Your gaze remained fixated on his collarbone, unable to meet his eyes. Absentmindedly, you rubbed the wrist of your right wrist, where the man had gripped you, feeling the tenderness and likely bruises forming there.

“Doll please look at me!” he pleaded, though you remained stoic, your emotions tightly locked away. His worry was palpable, evident in the furrow of his brows and the hesitant hover of his hands, unsure of how to comfort you.

“Eyes up here sweetheart, please!” His voice was softer than you’ve ever heard. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you lifted your head, allowing your gaze to trail up his face until your eyes met his. There was a hint of panic in his expression, his eyes searching yours with such urgency, that it was almost overwhelming. You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion reflected in his blue orbs.

“That’s it doll! Just like that!” He let out a breath of relief but never took his eyes off of you. He signaled to your wrists without breaking eye contact. “Can I take a look?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat tight with emotion, but you gave a slight nod, granting Bucky permission to inspect your wrists. Gently he took your right hand in his left, lifting your sleeve with the other to reveal the red and purple marks beneath. His touch was featherlight as he trailed his fingertips over your sensitive skin, but when you recoiled slightly, he pulled back immediately, murmuring an apology.

With your eyes trained on your wrist, you felt Bucky's finger under your chin to tilt your head up gently, coaxing you to look at him once more. “I’ve got you doll, okay? He’s gone. It’s alright!” he reassured you, a hint of fury underlying his voice as he recalled the man who caused you harm and left you in this state.

Taking a hesitant hold of your hand once again, Bucky brushed his thumb soothingly over the back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you intently.

Despite your curt nod, you found yourself avoiding his gaze once more.

“I know it’s hard sweetheart but I really need you to say something. Need to make sure you’re okay. Can you do that for me?” Bucky’s voice was filled with gentleness, patience, and genuine concern, causing a lump to form in your throat.

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the strength to look at him again, your eyes glazed from the overwhelming emotions consuming you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Bucky heard you.

He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed his other hand along your upper arm. “No need to thank me, sweetheart! I’m glad I was there!”

“Me too,” you found yourself saying, unable to hold back the gratitude flooding your heart. It was a miracle that Bucky showed up at the right moment, and you will forever be grateful for his intervention. The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been there sent a shiver down your spine.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he watched you with such fondness and adoration, your knees grew weak. You even managed to muster a small smile in return.

You took a deep, shuddering breath in, feeling the awkwardness settling in as you realized you had never been that close to Bucky before. Although you felt surprisingly grounded in his presence, you couldn’t shake the discomfort of the situation.

Releasing his hand, you rubbed your forehead, avoiding his gaze as you tried to find the right words. “Uhm...thank you, Bucky, really, but I think I’m just gonna…,” you trailed off, gesturing towards the bus stop in the near distance.

“Woah hold on now doll! I’m not gonna let you go home alone!” Bucky protested, shaking his head.

“It’s fine Barnes really! I’m just gonna call Wanda or Pietro. Surely one of them can come pick me up,” you didn’t really consider calling them but you’d feel bad for inconveniencing Bucky when he would be at his flat in a few minutes himself.

But Bucky was determined.

“No need to call them. I’ll drive you! Sam has a car and we’re just, like, two minutes away,” he pleaded, gaze so intense, almost forcing you to look away.

You sighed, feeling torn. “That’s really nice but I don’t wanna bother you furthermo-”

“Y/n you’re not bothering me! Never! Now please let me do this. Let me take you home,” he interrupted gently but firmly, his grip on your elbow a reassuring presence. You tried to conceal your lingering stress, but nothing could hide it from him.

“I-I can’t ask you to do that,” you murmured, your eyes shifting.

“I’m the one asking sweetheart. Please let me drive you home.” His eyes were hard to discern in the dim light, but the sincerity and concern in his voice were unmistakable.

With a sigh and a final look at the bus stop, you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered.

A smile spread on Bucky's face and he gently turned the hand on your elbow to the small of your back to lead you to the flat house.

As you approached the building, you recognized it from the brief time you spent at the party. However, without the thumping bass, overpowering smell of alcohol, and chaotic atmosphere, the place appeared surprisingly cozy in the dim light

Never once leaving contact with your back he guided you to a room at the end of the hallway. He knocked on the door softly.

“Took your sweet time man-” a guy - Sam, you assumed him to be - standing in the doorframe, stopped talking upon noticing you. A slow smile curled upon his lips. “Can see why.”

“It’s not how it looks like,” Bucky hissed quickly, talking through his teeth. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Sure, man,” confirmed Sam, reaching for a key from a hook beside the door. “Don’t be too late for class tomorrow,” he added with a wink.

A lump formed in your throat as you grappled with your thoughts. It was natural to assume Bucky would have certain expectations given his reputation. After all, he was known for his past behavior of sleeping around. The transformation he seemingly went through couldn’t happen overnight, after all.

You found it hard to believe that Bucky would take advantage of your vulnerability, especially considering how he came to your rescue during the unsettling encounter just moments before. Yet, despite this reassurance, your mind continued to wrestle with uncertainty, plagued by lingering doubts and fears.

Bucky could feel you tense beside him and shot daggers at Sam even when said guy already disappeared behind the door.

As he walked you to Sam’s car, Bucky held the door open for you, guiding you inside with gentle reassurance. Determined not to leave you alone for too long, he rushed around the front of the car to take the driver’s seat.

During the drive, silence filled the car as you tried to calm your breathing, focusing on the passing scenery outside the window. Your efforts to quell your anxiety were hardly manageable, due to the bouncing of your leg and your trembling hands, fiddling with the fabric of your jacket.

Bucky discreetly stole glances at you as he drove, noticing your nervousness.

15 minutes of driving later, Bucky came to a halt in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled yourself and before you realized what was going on Bucky opened the door at your side. You didn’t even notice him getting out of the car.

Feeling weak in your knees you got out of the car. Bucky walked you to your door, hands held by his side in case you needed him and his presence offered you a sense of comfort. As you came to a halt in front of your door, you turned your body to him, trying to muster up a smile. You attempted to convey your gratitude although that unease still lingered in your bones.

“Thank you, Barnes! For everything!”

“No need to thank me, Y/n. I’m glad I could help. Will you be okay though?” His concern was genuine, struggling to leave your side.

He looked so hesitant to leave you, it would have been adorable in other circumstances. You felt guilty for entertaining the thought he would take advantage of your situation. You even believed he would be relieved if you asked him to stay with you. You had to admit, the comfort his presence gave you was easing your anxiety, though you couldn’t ask him to stay.

You conjured up a smile. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him, unlocking your door. Bucky stayed rooted on the spot, returning an unsure smile, looking torn. “I’m gonna be okay, really! Get home safe, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, evading his eyes for a moment and taking a reluctant step backward, but he remained turned to you. After exchanging a quick goodbye you disappeared behind your door.

Bucky watched you climb the stairs through the small window in the door, his gaze unwavering even as the hallway inside turned dark again. He remained rooted outside, his thoughts consumed by concern for your well-being.

Bucky couldn’t shake the desire to talk to you again, especially since that night at the party. He tried so hard to muster up the courage, never having a problem in that department before, but he was a nervous wreck. Now, in an unexpected turn of events he did get to talk to you again, however, he despised how it had unfolded. Seeing you struggle to hold back tears, desperately trying not to break down in front of him, pained him deeply. It hurt to witness your shock, pleading with you to snap out of your state.

The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t returned, if he hadn’t forgotten his notebook, made him feel sick to his stomach. The mere idea of leaving you to face that situation alone was unbearable to him. Now leaving you alone so shaken felt inherently wrong in any sense, but he acknowledged he didn’t know you well enough to override your request that you would be fine. His instincts urged him to stay but he had to respect your words and your space.

Bucky seethed at the thought of Sam insinuating that he would use you in such a way. Sure, Sam didn’t know what happened to you and it wasn’t his fault Bucky had a reputation like that, but somehow it made him angry. You meant more to him than that. The mere suggestion of exploiting you for his own gain left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he silently vowed to prove Sam wrong by showing you the genuine depth of his feelings and intentions.

Girls constantly approached Bucky, attempting to touch him in the hallways or slipping their phone numbers into his locker, backpack, or books. Just the other day, a particularly bold girl even tried to write her number on his hand. Although she didn’t succeed, Bucky found himself standing in front of the sink for a while, scrubbing at his hand to erase any trace of her advances.

Bucky knew that he was viewed as nothing more than a means for physical pleasure. And he was okay with that, for an embarrassingly long time. The idea of being in a committed relationship and facing the responsibilities that came with it used to repulse him. His desires were simple - a brief encounter with no strings attached, followed by a swift departure, leaving no room for emotional entanglements. At a certain time, one smirk of a pretty girl was enough to jump into bed with her.

You were pretty too. Beautiful even. He acknowledged that day one. But never did he consider reducing you to a mere physical encounter. He noticed you in the hallways and felt intrigued, contemplating flirting with you just like he did with all the other girls. However, there was something different about you. He felt nervous around you, realizing that he cared about your opinion of him more than he cared to admit. He was strangely exhilarated at finding out you would share a class in second semester, trying to find a way to build some kind of connection with you.

That night, as you expressed your disinterest in frat parties, he felt the pull you had on him, without even knowing you well. The alcohol at the party suddenly tasted sour, the air felt stifling, the crowd too dense, the music too deafening, and the girls vying for his attention became an unwelcome intrusion. Their advances left him feeling an overwhelming sense of distress.

He found himself longing to leave his old reputation behind. He wanted something meaningful, something real, and the only person he could imagine it being with was you.

But right now?

Bucky’s heart sank as he got back to Sam’s car, feeling the strong urge to stay with you and ensure your safety. Sitting in front of the steering wheel and staring at your building, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be by your side.

You got stuck in your head after examining your bruised wrists and trying to cool down the swelling with an ice pack. Before your panic attack rendered you useless to do anything you managed to call Wanda and she talked you through it. You stayed on the phone with her until you fell asleep.

****

As you woke up, a familiar sense of unease settled over you, accompanied by trembling hands and a racing heart. The thought of facing another day filled with potential triggers made you hesitate. You did want to attend class, unfortunately though the looming threat of another panic attack weighed heavily on your mind. With a sigh, you made the decision to prioritize your well-being and called in sick, sending a text to Wanda to let her know.

As said girl joined you later, bearing notes and takeout, you found solace in her company on your small couch, eating and talking.

“So uhm,” Wanda began, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew her better than that, ears perking up. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you but after Science class, I met Bucky waiting outside the hall. He was looking for you.”

Your chewing slowed as you processed her words, eyebrows knitting together, looking at her.

“He came up to me, to ask where you were and if you were okay.”

You swallowed, a wave of panic surged within you. “You didn’t tell him-”

“No! No, of course not,” she interjected you hastily, words tumbling over each other in her haste to reassure you. “I just told him you weren’t feeling well and called in sick but I don’t think he really bought that.” Her smile was sympathetic.

Your appetite forgotten you let your fork clatter into the plastic container, your forehead finding its way to the backside of the couch with a groan of frustration.

Wanda’s light chuckle broke through your troubled thoughts. “He also asked me for your number,” she revealed, her tone surprisingly casual given the weight of her words.

“What?” Your head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Didn’t give it to him, don’t worry, though I kinda felt bad for the guy. He looked miserable.” Her voice tinged with sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Gratitude mingled with apprehension as you recalled Bucky’s unexpected kindness during yesterday’s ordeal. You remembered how his proximity seemed to ground you, warmth spreading through your body at the comfort he provided. You could still feel the lingering sensation of his hand on your back, even a day later. And yet, the intensity of those feelings scared you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls you had built around your heart.

“Hey,” Wanda called out softly, her words carrying a gentle insistence. “He genuinely seemed worried. And I’m not trying to get you to befriend him or whatever but…he really is a nice guy, Y/n.”

Your gaze was fixed on Wanda, contemplation furrowing your brow.

“Listen, I don’t know what your problem is with Bucky, but-” she gave you a careful glance, “-if I’m being honest, I don’t think you know it either sweetie.”

Wanda’s words resonated with a truth you had been reluctant to acknowledge. Bucky’s genuine concern had managed to pierce through the barriers you had erected, leaving you grappling with conflicting emotions. Why did you hold onto this grudge so tightly? Was it merely a shield against vulnerability?

As you reflected on Bucky’s actions, a sense of clarity washed over you. There was truly no valid reason to hold onto the grudge you had harbored against him. He truly had consistently shown kindness and concern towards you.

Recalling the instances where he had gone out of his way to make you comfortable, a wave of gratitude washed over you. From saving you a seat in class to rescuing you from a precarious situation with a homeless man to checking in on your well-being through Wanda, Bucky had proven himself to be a decent and caring person.

With a newfound perspective, you realized that perhaps it was time to give him a change.

****

The bus was late, as usual. Today, though, you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Your mind was still swirling with thoughts, and fatigue weighed heavily on you.

Wanda saved you a seat in class, checking in on you again and although you felt way better than yesterday, you couldn’t concentrate. The voice of your professor was merely a blurred murmur in the back of your mind.

With some time to kill before your next class, you and Wanda decided to grab a coffee. However, you barely made it out of your lecture hall before hearing your name called.

Heaving a sigh, you turned around and came face to face with an approaching Bucky.

He came to a halt, looking a little sheepish now that he was standing in front of you. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his hair a little disheveled, he cleared his throat, seemingly unsure of where to begin.

“I’ll head out already, Y/n. Take your time.” Wanda spoke up, giving you a quick hug before passing by Bucky and throwing you a wink over her shoulder.

Bucky cleared his throat again, shuffling on his feet a little before meeting your eyes. “So, uhm, are you okay?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, touched by his concern. “I’m fine,” you assured him, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you, again!” You added quietly.

He waved away your gratitude with a casual gesture. “No need to thank me doll. I’m glad I could help.”

He smiled softly, biting his lip, though there was a hint of something more in his expression. Sensing he still had something on his mind, trying to figure out how to say it, you remained silent.

“Listen, uh...,” he began, clenching his jaw and avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to apologize for…well for being pushy about the parties and all. Shouldn’t have bothered you like that.”

You blinked, taken aback by his unexpected apology. “Oh, uhm…it’s okay Barnes, really.”

He shook his head, letting out a breath. “Nah, it’s not. This isn’t your scene, should have respected that.” He opened his mouth again but closed it right after, swallowing.

“Don’t worry about it Barnes, it’s alright, seriously.” A tinge of disappointment lingered within you. The realization hit you, that without his invitations to parties, he might not seek you out as often. He only ever did, when asking you to come to his parties. So it would mean he might not annoyingly interrupt you in class, or approach you on campus anymore. You scolded yourself for feeling that way but you somehow didn’t want to lose that.

Needing to take hold of your thoughts, you wanted to get away from here. Your lips curled in a smile. “Alright, uhm, Wanda’s probably waiting for me so-” You were about to turn away but Bucky called your name again.

“Hey, uh-” he seemed nervous, his voice wavering slightly and he cleared his throat, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “You could always come to me - I mean, the frat - when you’re here late. I can always drive you again. Make sure you get home safe.”

He felt bad for bringing up the topic again, but he wanted you to know that he genuinely cared and would feel better if you reached out to him. He would gladly drive you home again, hoping you’d consider taking him up on his offer.

Surprised once more, you blinked at him, processing his offer. You mustered up a smile. “That’s nice, really Barnes, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, just know that I’ll be there if you change your mind,” Bucky replied, his tone sincere, expression soft.

You smiled again, nodded, and bid him goodbye.

Reflecting on the interaction, you couldn’t help but agree with Wanda. Bucky Barnes was a decent guy, held back by his reputation.

****

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the library, casting warm beams that danced upon the wooden tables and bookshelves. It was a stark contrast to the earlier rain, which had cloaked the world outside in a shroud of grey.

The faint whispers of fellow students, the gentle rustle of pages, and the occasional creak of wooden chairs created a soothing ambiance while you browsed through your textbook.

A groan from beside you, however, interrupted that. You lifted your head, diverting your attention to your friend sitting beside you.

“Why is all the information so scattered? Can’t find shit for this stupid paper.” Wanda exclaimed, her brow furrowed in frustration as she stared at her laptop screen.

As you chuckled and leaned in to help Wanda navigate through the vast sea of information on the internet, a sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to instinctively turn your head towards the entrance of the library. In walked Bucky, accompanied by the familiar figure of Sam. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.

In the two weeks since your conversation, there had been a palpable change in the air whenever Bucky and you crossed paths. And that was a lot. You haven’t necessarily exchanged words but you grew more enthusiastic when seeing him, sending a smile his way, which he reciprocated immediately.

You were sitting in a café last week, nursing a latte, while having light conversation with Wanda and Pietro, as you recognized Bucky standing at the counter. Without thinking you lifted your hand and waved at him when he looked in your direction. His face lit up, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled and eagerly waved back. He seemed to contemplate walking over to you, your hopes rising for a second, but his name called by the barista snapped his head away from you. After getting his coffee he sent another smile your way but left the café. Wanda and Pietro wasted no time in teasing you mercilessly after he was out of sight. The blush on your cheeks evidence of your embarrassment.

“God, this is getting ridiculous,” Wanda scoffed, amusement lacing her features. You turned to her, a hint of confusion littering your features, oblivious to what she was referring to. She nodded subtly to the side, her attention still fixed on her laptop screen. Following her nod, you spotted Bucky and Sam standing in the near distance, both seemingly focused in your direction.

Sam's face lit up with a mischievous grin and he started walking toward you girls, clapping Bucky on the back. Bucky looked visibly distressed, running a hand through his hair, before following behind.

Sam took a seat in front of Wanda and you, his toothy smile lighting up his face. “Ladies,” he acknowledged playfully.

Wanda laughed, continuing to type on her laptop. “What do you want Wilson?” she asked teasingly.

Sam leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Just wanted to say hi,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Bucky took a seat next to Sam, looking a little awkward. He shuffled a little, leaning his elbows onto the table.

“Well hi, then,” Wanda said, finally looking up.

As Sam and Wanda dove into a discussion about their research papers, exchanging ideas and sharing insights, Bucky and you found yourselves stealing glances at each other.

There was a warmth in Bucky’s eyes, a softness you still were trying to get accustomed to. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, you didn’t even try to suppress.

Bucky cleared his throat, looking solely at you. “What’s your paper about?” he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with curiosity.

You smiled, grateful for the new opportunity to engage him in conversation. “I’m researching the impact of technology on interpersonal relationships,” you replied, the initial awkwardness fading away.

Bucky nodded, his interest piqued. With that you delved into a light conversation, discussing your topic in more detail, diving into the various aspects you were exploring and the questions you hoped to answer. Bucky’s gaze never wavered, his attention fully captivated by your words. You noticed that whenever you tried to turn the conversation back to him, Bucky seemed more interested in talking about you.

As the conversation between Bucky and you flowed effortlessly, you found yourselves delving into deeper topics. Bucky’s genuine curiosity about you as a person was evident, and you felt a surge of warmth spreading throughout your body at his interest in getting to know you better. He asked about your hobbies, your favorite books, your dreams for the future - anything and everything he could think of to get to know you better. A spark elicited in Bucky’s eyes at some point, as if he found something in your words that resonated with him on a deeper level.

It felt like you talked to Bucky for hours though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. The presence of Wanda and Sam had long faded into the background, as Bucky and you connected. To your disappointment, Sam and Bucky had another class and bid you girls goodbye, wishing you good luck with your papers furthermore.

Wanda held her mouth after they left but the knowing smirk in her glance spoke volumes.

****

Weeks passed in a blissful blur. Your encounters with Bucky on campus evolved into something more than just brief exchanges. Conversations became the norm, each one stretching longer than the last, until you found yourself losing track of time altogether, arriving late to class oftentimes. Whenever your schedules allowed it, Wanda and you would meet up with Bucky and Sam to grab some coffee.

The soft smiles filled with adoration that Bucky sent your way didn’t go unnoticed, even when he thought you weren’t looking. You also noticed the little gestures, the quick hugs, he never seemed to pull away from fist, the hover of his hand over your back when walking around campus with you. He pulled you closer to his side a few days ago, his hand gently gripping the sleeve of your jacket as you navigated through the crowded hallway. Your heart skipped a beat at that.

And then there were moments when he seemed on the verge of saying something before parting ways, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak his mind, but then thinking better of it and closing his mouth with a clear of his throat and a hand running through his brown locks. His former cockiness seemed to have given way to a newfound shyness. He was holding back, afraid to cross some invisible line but you didn’t know how to approach him on that.

You also didn’t know if you eventually could cross a line at this moment. Darkness enveloped the campus, casting eerie shadows that danced in the dim light of the flickering lampposts. Wanda and Pietro were out of town and you decided to stay a little longer and finish up your notes. A bad move on your part.

The once bustling grounds now lay deserted, devoid of the usual throngs of students. A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you with every step. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind or the distant hum of a passing car. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat, every rustle of the wind a whisper of danger.

You were thinking about the offer Bucky had made you a few weeks ago to go by his flat and let him drive you home again. You considered going to him but although he had made you that offer you didn’t want to inconvenience him. And just walking to his flat and asking him to drive you home? It seemed weird. But as your anxiety intensified and your hands started to tremble, you found yourself walking towards his flat on autopilot. The memory of your previous panic attack loomed large in your mind, threatening to engulf you once again.

There was a guy standing in the doorway with a cigarette in hand. You were approaching cautiously, not sure if this was a good idea.

“Hey, you lost?”

The sound of the stranger’s voice jolted you out of your anxious reverie, pulling you back to the present, momentarily breaking the spell of fear that had gripped you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you responded. “Uhm, actually I wanted...to Bucky.” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the uncertainty that still lingered within you.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, eyeing you curiously as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Huh,” he muttered, looking you up and down. “Guy hasn’t had a girl over in weeks.”

You cleared your throat, too caught up in your own anxious thoughts to care about the stranger’s assumptions.

“Well, is he here?”

He nodded, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Up the stairs, last door to the left,” he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the staircase.

With a weak “thank you” you stepped past him and walked up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood in front of his door, staring at it long enough to notice the cracks in the woods, marring it’s surface, splinters standing out. Your lip was held in a death grip, teeth biting down on it. With a hesitant breath, you finally mustered up the courage to give the door a soft knock, the sound echoing faintly in the empty hallway. As you withdrew your hand you hid the shakiness in the folds of your sleeves.

There was a groan on the other side of the door, as response to your knock. A lump burned in your throat and you played with the thought to just bold out of that house again when you heard the doorknob turning.

“Sam, come on man-” Bucky stopped talking abruptly upon seeing you. His eyes grew wide, eyebrows shooting up, surprise clear as day upon his face.

“Y/n? I-Wow, uh, I didn’t expect you here,” Bucky stammered, shuffling on his feet with his hand running through his disheveled hair in a futile attempt to compose himself. If your mind wouldn’t have been occupied with other things right now you would have found him adorable with his crinkled shirt loosely hugging his frame and hanging over some dark sweatpants, his unruly hair and flushed cheeks. But all you could do was swallow that burning sensation in your throat.

“Uhm,” you choked out, looking at you feet. “I-I’m sorry for bothering you, I just…I didn’t-”

“Hey, hey, doll, it’s alright,” he met you in the hallway, a hand coming up to your upper arm in a sense of urgency. He hooked his finger under your chin to lift your head. You met his eyes, your heart leaving your chest altogether. His face was twisted in worry, brows furrowed deeply, eyes so focused on you, the intensity of it washed over you like a wave. Your breaths still came in too elated, heart beating erratically. “Take some deep breaths for me sweetheart, follow my lead, come on.” He urged you softly.

With Bucky’s guidance, you focused on your breathing, drawing in slow, steady inhalations and exhaling the tension that had taken hold of your body. His thumb continued to trace soothing circles on his skin. As you followed Bucky’s lead, the erratic beat of your heart gradually slowed to a more steady rhythm.

“Atta girl, that’s it!” he whispered, rubbing his other hand up and down your arm. He nodded at you to keep breathing, eyes so intense it was the only thing you could focus on.

Standing directly in front of you and focusing on your eyes, he let your chin up to gently grab your other arm. “You wanna tell me what happened?” His low and gentle tone soothing you.

You took a deep breath, feeling ridiculous out of a sudden to stand here and burden him. “I-My bus didn’t come and-and I don’t know, I got scared I guess and…God I’m sorry Bucky I shouldn’t have come I-”

“Hold on a sec doll,” he interjected, brows pulled together further, concern dripping from his words. “You stayed on campus until now?” A confirming but weak nod of you let Bucky heave a breath. “There’s no need to apologize, sweetheart, I told you you could come, didn’t I? And god help me, I’m glad you did.”

He looked pained to some extent, but mustered up a warm smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes still shifting with uncertainty and your hands were still secured in your sleeves, the nagging thought that you were burdening him still lingering at the back of your mind. Your tense posture didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he pulled you in his embrace, engulfing you in a warm hug. He never hugged you like that before but with the way his arms around you tightened and he leaned his head against yours, he supposedly wanted to.

As Bucky held you close, his warm breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine, he whispered words of comfort and reassurance that washed over you like a gentle breeze. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, all you could do was melt into his embrace and let the soothing cadence of his voice and the tenderness in his touch ease the knots of anxiety that had gripped your chest.

Bucky withdrew slightly to look at you again, his gaze filled with affection and tenderness. “You want me to drive you home, doll?” he whispered, maintaining the close proximity you two harbored.

As you pondered his question, conflicted emotions swirled within you. Initially, you had sought Bucky out precisely for this reason - to ask for a ride home. But now, something had shifted. The idea of being dropped off alone at home felt less appealing. Wanda and Pietro were likely unavailable, and you hesitated to inconvenience anyone else. Yet, the thought of being alone right now was equally unsettling.

Sensing your hesitation, Bucky gently lifted your head again with his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. There was a soft smile you came face to face with. “Sam’s not here for tonight…Do you wanna stay? It’s just us.”

The offer was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the worry of being a bother. “That’s nice Bucky, but I-I don’t want to intrude,” you murmured, matching his quiet tone.

“You’d never intrude, sweetheart! Don’t ever worry about that, alright?” His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you into his room.

You settled on his bed as he led you there and couldn’t help but steal a glance around the room. It was surprisingly tidy, save for a small pile of clothes scattered on the floor. Overall, the atmosphere felt organized and put together. Your eyes drifted to his desk - again, neatly arranged - where a framed picture caught your attention. In it was a clearly younger Bucky, with chubby cheeks and a toothy grin. Standing behind him was a man who bore a striking resemblance to him, his father you guessed. A woman was beside him, dark hair in a bun atop her head and a radiant smile, presumably his mother. Cradled in the woman’s arms was a little girl, short brunette hair a little disheveled, and with a pacifier in her mouth but a joyful grin on her face.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight of his family. While Bucky had mentioned having a sister during your conversation in the library a few weeks ago, he had never shown you pictures before.

Bucky entered your field of vision, settling down beside you with a glass of water in hand. He held it out to you and you thanked him gratefully, taking a sip.

You felt Bucky shifting beside you, wiping his hands on his sweatpants, betraying his nervousness. “Do you-” His voice was raspy and he cleared his throat, starting again, “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

You huffed out a laugh, throwing him a grateful smile. “I’m good, Bucky, thank you!”

A hesitant hand came to rest on your knee. “You let me know if there’s something, alright?”

“Will do, Buck!”

He gave you a look. “I mean it, doll!”

You chuckled, being surprised by how easily Bucky managed to ground you, getting you out of your nervous spiraling. “I know, Barnes.”

Bucky watched you, own lips curled in a soft smile. You returned his gaze, warmth spreading through you at the sparkle in his eyes. His hand remained secure on your knee, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your jeans, a gesture that made you yearn for his touch on your skin instead. The amount of adoration twinkling in his gaze made you weak. Seconds ticked by and you still were looking at each other. There was something in his blue speckles that couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else. A magnetic pull you were drawn to, holding you captive. You noticed his blues flicker down to your lips for a brief moment, and in response, your own eyes permitted themselves to wander to his. The movement of his thumb stilled on your leg, his hand laying flat and you could feel him leaning in.

Bucky often found himself lost in thoughts about kissing you. When the urge washed over him he imagined leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. But he had always held back, hesitant to take that final step without knowing if you wanted it too.

One time, when you two were walking together through campus, the wind was relentless, whipping your hair around your face as you tried in vain to tame it. Despite your efforts though, the wind was hard to go against and after the fifth failed attempt at trying to tame your hair, you started laughing, Bucky joining in. As he watched you, your hair obscuring your view, he couldn’t help the warmth swelling in his heart, the fondness that made his smile ache in his cheeks at the sight of your laughter. He found himself wishing to pull you close, to gently brush the strands of hair away from your face, and to kiss you with all the pent-up longing he felt. In that moment, all he wanted was to express the depth of his feelings for you in a kiss that would leave you breathless.

He often daydreamed about kissing you in the library. Surrounded by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows, you sat immersed in your studies, your face illuminated by the gentle light. You looked so beautiful, all he could do was admire you. If only you had lifted your head from your notebook, you would have seen the adoring smile that graced his lips. He longed to express his affection for you in the form of a tender kiss, holding you close and sharing a moment of intimacy amidst the quiet serenity of the library. But he couldn’t do that, so he took the chance and admired you from afar.

But the one time he almost really did it was the time you called him ‘Bucky’ for the first time.

You sit in your usual café, nursing a large cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting up to greet you with each sip. Bucky is seated in front of you, idly fiddling with the sugar packages stored in a box on the table. Your notebook lies open in front of you, pages filled with scribbled notes from your recent class.

After class, Bucky had caught up with you, asking what you were up to. You had mentioned grabbing a coffee and finishing up some notes, and he had decided to tag along. However, as you now sit together in the cozy café, it seems Bucky isn’t entirely pleased with the lack of attention you’re giving him, his relentlessness evident as he fidgets with the sugar packets in front of him.

He grumpily rearranges the sugar packages for the fourth time, his irritation palpable as you remain engrossed in your writing. You hear the crinkle of a sugar packet being opened.

“I don’t need any more sugar in my coffee, Barnes,” you warn him teasingly, without lifting your head from your notebook.

“Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, doll!” he retorts with a knowing grin, tossing you a wink as you glance back at him. With a mischievous smirk, he lets the sugar cascade into your cup.

“Whatever you say,” you reply with a laugh in your breath, shaking your head in amusement before returning your focus to your notes.

You hear him open another package and let out a sigh. “You better not do that,” you warn again, eyes not lifting.

Another rip of a sugar packet catches your attention, and you perk up to see Bucky holding both open packages over your cup, letting the sugar pour in.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, the volume of your voice drawing glances from other café patrons, but you’re too focused on the playful banter to acknowledge them. “God, I can’t believe you did that,” you groan, pulling your cup closer to your side, in mock exasperation.

As your gaze locks with his, you’re prepared to scold him further but the look on his face catches you off guard. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, morphing into a beaming smile, white teeth on display.

Your eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“Thought I’d never get to hear you say it, doll,” Bucky laughs out, eyes sparking.

“What did I say?” you ask, puzzled by his reaction.

He leans forward, elbows resting on the table while his eyes remain fixed on you. That beaming smile is still plastered on his face, and his blue orbs seem to glow with amusement, sparking brighter than usual.

“You called me Bucky,” he points out, his voice tings with delight.

You took a deep breath in, regretting your slip-up. “Shit, I guess I did.”

Bucky now crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the back of his seat. He doesn’t seem able to stop the smile on his face. “If all it took was to annoy you then Imma keep doing that from now on,” he declared with a playful glint in his eyes.

Head in your hands you let out a groan. Bucky barks out a laugh in front of you and you reluctantly lift your head to look at him. You point a finger at him. “I’ll keep calling you Bucky, if you stop being annoying!” you propose, trying to stay serious but not being able to stop the corners of your mouth from lifting.

“Can’t say no to that,” Bucky conceded, smile growing fond, affection radiating from him in waves.

He never stopped annoying you but you kept calling him Bucky.

But now, as he sat in front of you, his hand resting on your leg, Bucky felt the familiar urge resurface. You were in his room, smiling at him, looking so beautiful, it took his breath away. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire, he knew he would never take that final step without your explicit consent, considering the circumstances you were here right now. Your state earlier left him uneasy and a nagging guilt was gnawing within him, thinking about that night he had driven you home and then left you alone that shaken. So he needed you to want this, to be sure you were okay. He felt sick at the thought of taking advantage of you in any way.

Thus, he did lean in but didn’t go further than a few inches, giving you the opportunity to make the next move or the space to show him you weren’t ready for that.

Your eyes darted to his lips once more, leaning in yourself. Your foreheads touched after some moments, noses brushing and you saw Bucky’s eyes flutter close, still not moving further. You took a few seconds before closing the gap and pressing your lips to his. Bucky let out a breath through his nose, slowly moving his lips in sync with yours. Again, he let you lead the kiss. His other hand made his way up to your face, the gentle touch of his fingertips brushing over your skin before tenderly cradling your cheek.

Eventually, you pulled away, opening your eyes but staying close to his face. Your hazy smile mirrored his, and he pulled your head back slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking back at you, fondness clear on his features. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers still caressing your cheek as his intense eyes locked on yours.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you held his gaze. “Yeah.”

After a few tender moments of loving touches and whispered assurances, Bucky handed you a change of clothes and let you use the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom, you were now dressed in a pair of his black shorts and a shirt, the fabric enveloping you in Bucky’s comforting scent. It made your stomach do flips, feeling at ease. A soft smile graced your lips as you took in the familiar aroma.

“I got another blanket, in case you got cold…,” he trailed off as he caught sight of you. His eyes swept up and down your figure, admiring how his clothes draped over your form. Though you couldn’t quite read his expression, the slight blush coloring his cheeks was enough to make you smile sheepishly in response. Bucky cleared his throat - he did that a lot around you - and turned away a little, composing himself.

There wasn’t much space in his bed you recognized as you settled in, but somehow you didn’t mind that much. Bucky sat down on the bed, looking troubled.

“Buck? Something wrong?”

Bucky took a breath, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he breathed out, an inner turmoil in his eyes, “I just…I can sleep in Sams’ bed. Maybe tha-”

“Hey,” you interrupted him softly, “I don’t mind Bucky, really! We can share.” He didn’t look convinced so you sat up straighter and heaved a breath, trying again. “And it would make me feel better,” you admitted quietly.

That did him in, breathing out a sigh and settling in beside you. Though he relented, he still was tense beside you, his muscles stiff. His shoulders were touching yours, so he felt you starting to shiver a little. His head snapped to you in an instant.

“Are you cold? Let me get another blan-” Bucky began, already halfway off the bed before you interrupted him once more.

“Hold on! I…uhm,” you hesitated, searching for the right words to express your request, “Could you maybe…cuddle me?” You fiddled with your fingers, a little nervous about how he would react.

To your relief, you heard him shuffle towards you, and soon you felt his arm wrapping around you. You smiled and turned, positioning your back against his chest. His other arm moved hesitantly under your pillow, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. With Bucky’s presence surrounding you, you felt a sense of security wash over you, easing any lingering nerves.

“Like that?” he breathed in your hair, a whisper so full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you breathed back, a sense of gratitude washing over you, “Thank you!” It wasn’t just a thank you for holding you in that moment; it was a thank you for everything he had done for you. It was a thank you for pulling you out of your anxiety - for saving you from a panic attack you surely would have endured if it wasn’t for him. It was a thank you for him offering his comfort and support in so many ways. And it was a thank you for inviting you to his many parties because although you never really went, it was the foundation of your current relationship.

And he knew. He knew the depth of your gratitude, the depth of your feelings. Because he had learned to read and understand you. Because he had learned to love you. And he would tell you when he thought you were ready to hear it. For now, all he could do was hold you close, squeeze you just a little tighter, and silently convey his unwavering support and profound affection.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #soft bucky #soft!bucky barnes #college!reader #college!bucky #college #frat boy #bucky oneshot

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its-time-to-write · 8 months

Note

hiya there love

i was wondering, if i could request a lovely jamie tartt fic from you? it would basically revolve around r being increadibly stressed and overworked and, of ypu are comfortable, r gets a panic attack (maybe she works at the dogtrack and then people are confused about what is happening) and then jamie swoops in and saves the day

absolutely love your writing and stories and senig lots of love and creativity your way <3 <3 <3

guys I have like five WIPS and usually I have zero, but here we are. Most of them only need their closing paragraph but I have been BUSY and also very tired. thank you @dark-academia-slut for this request and your recent comments on my posts🩵🩵

for you, there’ll be no more crying

There’s too much to do and only one you, and yet everything needs to be done today and no one seems to realize that they’re assigning you more work on top of what other people have already given you. You didn’t realize everything was so pressing, but here you are with a to do list as long as your arm filled with tasks to be completed ASAP.

You think that taking a break for lunch is a bad idea, honestly you’d rather sit at your desk and check some more things off your list, but HR insists that you have a thirty-minute break. It’s also shitty because your boyfriend works here too, but you’re not sitting with him today because by the time he got to the cafe, the only available space was all the way across the room. So here you are, tapping your foot as you force down a salad.

Chewing feels mechanical, each bite heavy in your mouth. You choke down a piece as your index finger taps on your thumb, counting down the minutes until you can rush back to your office. You can feel Helen from HR keeping an eye on you, and you don’t need to add a visit from her to you list.

“Oi, can you compile that list I emailed you about last week?” Stephanie from the front desk asks from across the table.

You give her a confused look. “What list?”

She returns your look. “The one I sent last Tuesday?”

You shake your head and say, “I never got that email.”

Stephanie frowns and pulls out her phone. “Oh, whoops, it’s in my drafts still.” She presses a button and says, “There, it’s sent!” with a cheerful grin, like that changes anything.

Your whole leg is shaking now, not just your foot. “When do you need it?” you ask carefully, willing her to say literally an other day but today.

“Oh, I need it by the end of the day,” she replies so you nod, all slow and mechanical.

You ask, “Can I get it to you tomorrow?” and she shakes her head.

“No, I really needed it done by today. You should have checked with me when you didn’t get my email on Tuesday.”

You don’t point out that it’s impossible to ask about an email you didn’t even know existed, mainly because Stephanie is best friends with Helen and you literally cannot deal with both of them today.

So instead you nod, fake a smile, and take another bite of salad as Stephanie gets up to leave.

The moment she’s gone, everything goes slow. And not in a good way.

You think, oh shit as the food in your mouth becomes tasteless and your gaze becomes fixated on a spot on the table.

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Liam notices and asks, “Are you alright?” in his too-loud voice, so now everyone in the cafe is looking at you as you take stuttered breaths around the salad in your mouth.

You’re confident that this couldn’t get any worse, but you can’t even answer Liam so he shakes your arm, causing you to jolt.

You press one hand to your heart as you try to catch a breath with all eyes still on you.

A hand presses a napkin to your mouth and says, “Spit,” but you don’t look up to see who it is. You’re stuck on that one spot on the table, unable to move anything except your leg. But you don’t need to look up to know who it is.

“Fuck off, Liam,” says Jamie and Liam does.

You’re told later that Jamie flips off anyone who’s still staring, but you miss it in the moment because it’s over your head.

“You alright, babe?” he asks gently, but you don’t respond. He slides into the seat Liam has vacated and grabs your hand. “Oi, look at me.”

His hands are warm in contrast to your cold ones, and the uses his one free hand to tilt your face toward his. You’re having a hard time making eye contact so he bends his head just enough so he’s in your line of sight.

“There you are,” he smiles, “You want to tell me what’s wrong or do you want me to guess?”

You just look, chest rising and falling way too fast.

“Right,” he says. “Let’s get your breathing under control. Breathe with me, yeah?”

You see the staff and team at Nelson Road filtering out of the cafe, so you focus on Jamie’s face and follow his breaths.

“Okay, keep going like that. What else can we talk about? Oi, did you hear what fucking Roy did this morning? The lad’s fucking insane, he is. Strings around dicks? Can’t believe I almost lost mine, and on date night no less.” He winks. “You’d‘ve had his head for sure, love.”

You crack a smile at that.

“Ey!” he says, “She lives!”

“I love you,” you tell him and he squeezes your hand.

“She fuckin’ talks, too. What a woman.”

You think of a few snide replies, but you’re not too sold on talking just yet so you settle for silence.

“Was it fucking Helen?” Jamie asks, “Bird’s more insane than Coach.”

You wiggle your head. Technically, it wasn’t just Helen, but she’s the one who’s been handing you the most assignments while also insisting on the stupidest breaks.

“Bet it were Stephanie too,” he continues. “Babe, you’ve gotta fucking talk to Higgins or Ms. Welton or some shit. They’re using you like some personal servant and it ain’t right.”

You shrug and Jamie squeezes your hand again. “None of that,” he says.

He’s not wrong.

It’s just you two, alone, so he allows himself a moment to cup your face in one hand. “You’re good, yeah?” he asks.

You take a deep breath and nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He grins and leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“D’you want to ditch the rest of the day?” he asks and you give him a Look.

You say, “I can’t ditch. I have too much to do and you can’t ditch because you have training.”

Jamie’s still grinning as he says, “Bet I could get out of it ‘cause of me injury and you could get out of it if you talked to Ms. Welton.”

“Absolutely not,” you reply, but he’s already standing up.

“Gonna talk to her about fucking Helen,” he says. “I’d bet my entire house that none of your shit is that big of an emergency.”

“No you won’t,” you call after him, “And anyway, she wouldn’t listen to you about any of it.”

Jamie’s basically already gone so he just shouts, “Ta,” as you sigh and get up to go back to your office.

An hour later, you’re in the car with Jamie as he laments your lack of faith in him. “Told you Helen’s full of shit,” he says. “You’re going to be way better at her job than she ever was.”

“The fuck, Jamie,” you reply. “I still can’t believe you made me talk to Rebecca.”

He shrugs, one hand on the wheel. “I’m a dead good boyfriend, is what I am.”

You laugh. He certainly is that.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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thecapybara526 · 1 year

Text

A Drop in the Ocean pt. 7

Avatar: the way of water

Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader

Note: Part 7?! Can’t believe that. After so much support on the last chapter I had to write again for you all. Thank you <3 WE HAVE A TITLE

Tags: @whos3rn @marastarz starz @bangtanxberm @fanboyluvr @seriesstuff @kevincostners1mommy @sw3atbaby @pheonixisswag @grace-928 @raven887209 @kucingberkokok k @pearlrosegardener r @briefwinnerpersonaturtle le @itzyourgurlnihya @minajshi @elegantzippercashshoe @buttercake2234 @saturn-is-falling-blog @owaowoawawa @arraxthatsonjah @fantasy-addict354 @iheartsleeping @daddyslittlevillian @maxsvstrtls448 @saltedcoffeescotch @petrasdesire @usernumder67

Part 7

Neteyam held your hand as you walked onto the sandbar. After the fight with Lo’ak, you both took off on your ilu’s to the sandbar. You didn't talk the entire time, but that moment of physical touch was enough for you.

He stood in front of you, holding your hands.

“Y/n, I feel like something is going on between us.”

“I agree, why have you been ignoring me?”

Neteyam was embarrassed to respond. What if you said you had chosen Lo’ak? How could he deal with the heartbreak? He didn't want to confess yet; he felt it was too early.

“Because, I thought you felt uncomfortable with me ” he lied.

“Neteyam, why would you think that you skxwang.” you let go of his hands; seriously, this is what the the talk was going to be about. You thought maybe you two were finally going to confront your feelings.

Neteyam did not take you letting go of his hands well. The conversation was taking a turn. Should he just be honest?

“I- I do not know. It was a very intimate moment; everything happened so fast. I don't want to rush or ruin anything between us.”

Between us. Your ears flicked at that.

“Oh yeah?” you took a step closer to him, and looked from his eyes to his mouth, “what is going on between us?”

Neteyam’s entire body turned hot; you were the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen. You being this close to him did something to him.

“Ah nothing, nothing. You know, I just do not want to ruin our friendship.” he smiled; he was so flustered he couldn't think.

Your demeanor dropped, friendship?, a terrible thought formed. What if you were just misinterpreting all of this? What if you and Neteyam we're just getting closer but just not romantically.

“Oh no, yes of course. Our friendship.” you couldn't hide the hurt and disappointment, you took a big step back.

Neteyam couldn't believe what he had just said. What was he doing? Instead of trying to slow things down, he was hitting the brakes. Did this mean you still wanted him?

“Wait, no, Y/n. That's not-” before he could finish, a big horn sounded.

Suddenly waves of noise began and the waves began huge and choppy. You would have thought you were under attack.

“Neteyam.” you pointed at the massive figures in the water.

The Tulkun had returned.

“Come on!” you yelled at him. You desperately needed this distraction and wanted to evade the conversation that was about to take place. You didn't have to continue hearing how you misinterpreted you and Neteyam’s time together.

“Y/n, wait we aren't done” you had already dove in the water.

He loved that you were stubborn but right now not so much. He knew you heard him. How could he let himself mess that conversation up, being so close to you made him panic. I’m so whipped, he thought. He couldn't think straight. This conversation was not over. He was confessing to you tonight. No more waiting.

...

Watching everyone so excited and happy for the tulkun helped fix your aching heart. You were following Tuk and Kiri around watching everyone interact with their spirit brother and sisters in the water. You noticed Jake and Neytiri. He held her by the thigh on the same ilu. Goals. You thought.

From the way your conversation with Neteyamn was going and how Lo’ak was looking at Tsireya twirl. You weren't going to be doing that with either of his sons. Honestly, you still loved Lo’ak, but Neteyam was the one you needed. Now you are stuck pinning for another Sully boy. Again. Just when you thought you made progress in your goal for you and Kiri to be sister in laws. You chuckled to yourself.

You all came up for air and your heart softened when you saw Neteyam with the happiest smile on his face. He’s so cute.

Kiri wasn't sure what had happened since she had her episode, but it was flipped now. You and Lo’ak were on good terms, and you, Neteyam, were not good.

...

Neteyam was suffering yet again. It was his fault yet again. He had confused you during your conversation, and now you couldn't stand being close to him. On the swim back to the ilu stable, you chatted briefly. Just things like how cool that was and that one day you want a tulkun sister or brother.

He was going to steal you for a conversation when Kiri grabbed you and Tsireya.

“We desperately need girl time. Let's go”

“What about me!” Tuk squealed.

“I’m sorry, Tuk, but I think Kiri means big girls only” you fluffed her hair.

“Fine.” she walked away sad. You looked at Kiri, hoping she would let Tuk come, but she shook her head.

...

The three of you were sitting on the breathing training rock.

“Kiri, I'm happy to spend time together but what is about?” Tsireya asked her blue eyes shinning

“The only thing that ever seems to cause trouble lately. My brothers” she rolled her eyes

“Y/n! Did you and Neteyam talk? Why was he ignoring you.” Tsireya smiled

You laid flat on the rock, “yes, and it turns out it was because he was scared of ruining our friendship.”

Kiri almost flew back into the water. Friendship? Neteyam did not have any friendly intentions when it came to you. Only romantic. He has been in love with you forever. That skxwang. How was he messing this up?

“And Lo’ak?” you tighten up, eyes shifting to Tsireya.

“What of Lo’ak?” Tsireya eyed you

“Oh.” Kiri’s eyes widened.

“Listen Tsireya..” you began to say

“What- what is going on with you and Lo’ak” Tsireya thought just maybe there was something between the two of you.

“Tsireya. I had been in love with Lo’ak all my life. I still love him. It's not in the way I love Neteyam, though. I know that now. That's all.”

“Has he expressed feelings for you?” she was the most serious she had looked since you met her. She suspected he did when he told her the fight was about you.

“That is something you and Lo’ak need to discuss” you waited for her response

“Thank you for being honest with me” she hugged you. She really was the sweetest ever. “Do you know what their fight was about?”

“No,” you were taken aback by that question. You were so caught up in the friendship convo you forgot to ask what the fight was about.

“You should ask him”

Neteyam was standing at the shore and you all turned to look at him.

“Dinner!”

...

Neteyam had sat right next to you at dinner tonight. Lo’ak was chewing slowly, watching the two of you interact. He wanted to talk to you after dinner.

“Are we going to finish our conversation.” he whispered next to you. Okay we are doing this now.

“I don't know, are you going to tell me what you and your brother were fighting about?” you bit off a piece of fish.

“No, no, yet.” he replied

“Okay, so no, we will not finish our conversation.” you smiled sarcastically at him.

His jaw almost dropped he couldn't decide between whether what you did was cute and squeeze you or strangle you for being so stubborn.

“Y/n not yet.” he pleaded to you

“No conversation then” you stared back at him, this time you would not melt, you stood your ground.

Lo’ak wanted to know what the two of you were whispering about. Tsireya touched his arm.

“I will not be a second choice Lo’ak. I ask you for the sake of my heart. Figure it out” she stood up and walked away. He was stunned.

“Fine!” Neteyam folded “after dinner”

You nodded, scared for what was going to happen next between the two of you.

...

“Y/n. Lo’ak approached you. He knew who he wanted and needed to talk to you immediately.

“She is busy Lo’ak” Neteyam came up behind you the brothers haven't spoken since the fight.

“calm down; it will only be a second.” you turned to look at Neteyam. He looked away. You knew if you went with Lo’ak, he would respect your decision. But Lo’ak wasn't the boy who held your heart anymore. It was Neteyam. You needed answers once and for all.

“I'm sorry Lo’ak but it must wait.”

Neteyam’s heart soared. That was a good sign. For Lo’ak, he knew what it meant. He had lost you.

...

You and Neteyam returned to your spot. The sandbar. He grabbed your hand, tracing your palm as you sat.

“Neteyam I am so confused” you sighed

“I know. But I can't tell you what the fight was about not yet.” you stood up so fed up.

“No. I agreed to this under that one condition”

“Y/n you need to understand everything first.”

“How! I don't get it, we have these fantastic three weeks together. The other night at the sandbar, something shifted. I know it did. I know you feel it too. Just tell me what is going on! ” you yelled

“It's not that simple” he groaned and grabbed his head.

“It is! Do you want me or not? Stop playing with my heart because I can't take this anymore. What was the fight about!” you teared up throat scratching. You just wanted your Neteyam back.

“It was about you!” he raised his voice. He was breathing hard. “I'm sorry” he grabbed your face.

“Y/n, I’ve loved you since you were 14. I've loved your stubbornness, determination, kindness, strength, all the things that make you. You. For so long I've tried to suppress it. But I can't anymore you've torn your way into my heart, and everyday I spend with you it bleeds more knowing I haven't told you that it belongs to you. I knew it was only Lo’ak you saw, but Y/n, I have always seen you. I see you.” he was tearing up too. He had finally said it, and he was bracing for impact.

“I’ve wanted you to see me since before we left. It was like wishing for rain as I stood in the desert. Wishing for you to love me. I prayed to Ewya for just a drop, and maybe you would see me.”

You started to cry, he was worried but kept his hands craddling your face. You kneeled down and grabbed his wrists. He followed you to the ground.

“Neteyam. My drop has turned into an ocean of love for you. I see you, Neteyam. I do.” he let a out a shaky breath. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“You’re right, back home it was always Lo’ak, but when we came here, everything changed. You snuck up on my heart, and claimed it as yours. I never saw you coming. You are loyal, dependable, strong, honest, caring, and most importantly, kind. You make me feel calm and safe, you understand me better than anyone.“

He smiled. “I’ve been yours since you were 14; nothing would make me happier than you being mine.” He pressed his forehead against yours.

You couldn’t believe it. Neteyam was yours and you were his. You always thought it would be Lo’ak, but Neteyam made you feel things Lo’ak never did. Neteyam made your heart relax. He calmed you and steadied you in ways you couldn’t and needed. He sat and listened to you and provided insight. You were the fire; he sometimes needed, and he was the water to put you out when needed.

“I'm yours Neteyam.”

...

About time! I decided their confession would be based around the song “a drop in the ocean” I felt like it fit Neteyam so well pinning you wishing a chance and drop or a change in the weather. So that is also our title! Yay! I hope you enjoyed and don’t think its rushed. I might revise it tomorrow when I am not on 3 hours of sleep. I just wanted to get a chapter out for you all.

UPDATE. Keep rereading this and I think it's trash. After I rewrite tmr i’ll delete this. I'm just exhausted from traveling. Sorry to disappoint you guys. Neteyam and Y/n deserve better. PART 8 is up

#lo’ak x reader #lo’ak #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #avatar imagine #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #kiri sully #tsireya x lo’ak #lo’ak sully #lo’ak imagine

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soapyghostie · 1 year

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hello!! i adore your writing style and i finally mustered up enough courage to submit my own ask, but feel free to discard it if its too specific! i was wondering whether you could write something for pyramid head and mikey myers with a reader who has paranoia/anxiety? something where they explain to their murderous partner that being sneaked up on makes it worse? gender of reader is irrelevant 2 me! tysm in advance :D

Awwwww! Thank you Anon! I’m so glad you enjoy my writing! 🤗 I enjoyed writing this one. I can totally relate with anxiety so this gave me a sense of comfort. I hope you like it!

Pyramid Head

Pyramid Head could sense something was off about you the first time you guys met. He could see the way you cowered into yourself, looking in all directions for danger as you took your first steps into Silent Hill.

Obviously, he doesn’t know what anxiety is. He is definitely no human or has any experiences with humans and their world.

You’re going to have to tell him what anxiety is. Pyramid head is pretty understanding and a great listener. Oh? That’s what anxiety is. Have no fear! Pyramid Head is here! Yeah… He’ll get the other monsters to baby proof Silent Hill. At least he is trying. 🤷‍♀️

One time, Pyramid Head was out patrolling for enemies and he saw you. You had your back turned to him, working on one of your hobbies. He wanted to say hi to you before he went to finish up the rest of his patrol. He walked up behind you, silently. He thought you’d maybe have heard him coming, but he was wrong. He tapped you on your shoulder and you freaked out, having the worst panic attack of your life. He felt really bad afterwards. ☹️

You had to explain to him that being sneaked up on makes your anxiety worse. From then on, he made sure to make some sort of noise to let you know he was somewhere nearby.

Michael Myers

Michael knew you had anxiety long before you guys even met. Ya know? The usual stalk before the kill. However, he never expected that you and him would become a thing instead of being his latest victim.

Even though Michael knows what anxiety is, because a lot of other patients had anxiety, he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He’s been in an asylum his whole life, but he’ll learn for you though. 🙂

By learning, Michael will stalk you 24/7, 7 days a week. He finds out what triggers your anxiety and what keeps you calm. Do large groups make you anxious? He’ll snatch you right out of that crowd, take you home and cuddle you. Do plushies help you with anxiety? He’ll go steal all the plushies out of the toy aisle in Walmart. Don’t ask him how he didn’t get caught. He’s just built different.

Well what Michael did miss is that you get awful anxiety attacks when you get sneaked up on. Idk how he didn’t observe that because he is super observant, but he did. Anyways, he makes the mistake of sneaking up on you while making dinner and dinner goes up in flames. Good job Michael.

You had to sit him down and tell him that your anxiety gets badly triggered when people sneak up on you. That made Michael sad because he loves sneaking up on people. Sorry Michael. However, to apologize for scaring you, he does give you one of his big bear hugs. 🙂

#slasher x reader #slashers #slashers x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #horror #dbd killer #michael myers #pyramid head #michael myers x reader #pyramid head x reader #halloween #silent hill #slasher #sophi ghostie writes

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justbreakonme · 9 months

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Hi! I don’t know if you’re taking asks right now, but if you are, could you maybe write some whumpee deconditioning?

Oh this is right up my alley…

Caretaker sat outside on the porch, looking out over the dry grass and gravel drive. There was no one around for miles, well, no one but Whumpee.

He still didn’t know much about where he had come from, mostly that it was not a place he ever wanted to visit. He’d found him curled up in the barn, wedged in between hay bales as tightly as he could managed, like that was gonna do much against the below freezing temperatures. Caretaker was glad he’d thought to double check on the cats, otherwise, who knows if the kid would have made it through the night.

He’d yanked him inside and ripped into him, saying his parents were probably worried sick, and only when he’d ran out of breath did he see the hand shaped bruises, the burns…the belt marks. All through everything, whumpee hadn’t managed a word, merely stared blankly into the middle distance, trembling like a leaf.

That was almost three months ago now, and snow had given way to dead grass and the beginnings of spring, and Whumpee had stayed with Caretaker.

He slept in a real bed, not in a barn, and they ate meals together at a proper kitchen table, and he helped out around the property like he’d lived there all his life. And that was where the normalcy ended.

It was like he couldn’t remember, not in his mind at least. But the things he did were a different story. As horrible as it was, he had expected the flinching. The skittishness, the way he avoided fireplace pokers and belts like the plague. But there were other things that he just hadn’t puzzled out yet.

The biggest problem was that there was something about books that set him on edge. Caretaker was an avid reader, and there was not much he liked better than cracking open a book and sitting back on the porch, but whenever he did, whumpee acted…odd.

He’d watch from the kitchen window, then duck away when he’d look back, and if, after he looked back, he got up and came inside, it would trigger a panic attack like nothing else.

Usually, when whumpee got scared, they went still, and silent, aside from quick, short breaths, his head ducked and his hands clasped in front of him. Those were…easier, in some ways, to deal with. He had worked out that whumpee was needing forgiveness, or reassurance that he hadn’t done anything wrong, or that no one was mad at him. Once that “sunk in”, he would be able to calm down, slowly, but better the others.

The “book scares” as he had started to refer to them in his own mind, would have whumpee scrambling for cover, his hands up in a defensive position, and he would beg and cry that he was sorry, that he would be better, that he didn’t mean to, but he would never say what he was sorry for, and no amount of questions, in the moment or after it, would help caretaker figure it out. It was like even whumpee wouldn’t know.

He didn’t even know how to really calm whumpee down, all he was ever able to do was help him crash safely. He’d tell him to go sit in bed and calm down, and that he wasn’t in trouble, but he would still hear him crying for hours, and would find him passed out, exhausted, on top of the covers in his bed, tear tracks still drying on his cheeks.

He just…couldn’t figure it out.

Caretaker could feel whumpees eyes on the back of his head through the open window. He fought the urge to turn around, and instead, had an idea. He faked a yawn, and a satisfied sigh, and closed his book. He stretched, and snuck a sideways glance over his shoulder to see him watching.

He looked…hopeful, but still ducked away Was that a good sign? He took a deep breath, and decided to try something else. Very gently, he called. “Hey, Whumpee? Could you bring me a pen?”

He didn’t know what to ask for, but Whumpee hadn’t had any reactions to pens or the like, and it was something he could find easily.

“Y-Yes sir!”

Caretaker winced at the eager panic in his voice, and the way he practically ran for the cup of pens by the phone. He was out the door, presenting the pen, in seconds, his hands shaking but still lucid and not lost to panic yet.

“Thank you,” he takes the pen, and gives whumpee a smile, “would you feel like joining me?”

He gestured to the other rocking chair, and Whumpees breath hitched as he darted a glance up for just a second, searching Caretakers face.

He seemed to determine it was the right answer, and nodded, quickly. “Thank you sir.” It was like watching someone held at gunpoint, the way he sat so carefully, the white knuckle grip he held on the armrests.

“It’s nice weather out here, huh? Finally starting to warm up…” he didn’t know what else to say, hell, they’d probably had less than ten conversations that weren’t about what they were going to do or how to do something.

“Yes sir, it is…” He moved his hands to his lap, still not relaxing even the slightest, but his tone seemed less…stiff.

He wished he’d thought this out a little further, thought of more to talk about than the weather. In a way, he hadn’t planned because he didn’t really expect to get this far.

He took another deep breath, figuring he might as well not beat around the bush. “When I come and sit out here and read, I can tell it makes you worried…” Whumpee flinched, hard.

“Look, you aren’t in trouble, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just want to understand why…” caretaker added quickly, shifting to turn his full attention towards Whumpee.

That proved to be a bad idea. Whumpee shrank back in the chair, eyes wide and blank like a deer in the headlights, his mouth open but no words escaping.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t bring it up because I was annoyed or anything… you’re a good kid whumpee, and I don’t want you to always feel like you’re in trouble cause you’re not. Alright?”

It didn’t seem like Whumpee could even hear him. He still just stared forward, his back pressed painfully hard up against the back of the chair.

“Hey, whumpee, you’re okay, you’re good. Can you hear me?”

The question at least seemed to trigger something, and he nodded quickly, tears starting to pool in his eyes. “Good, good, you’re doing great, kid. Look, I just want you to know that you’re okay, right?”

Whumpee nodded again, and Caretaker could tell he was holding his breath.

“It’s okay if you feel like crying, you can, you won’t be in trouble… I just was hoping to find a way to…I dunno, not scare you so much.”

There’s a moment of silence, whumpee still not breathing, then, it was like it all flooded out at once. A sob seemed to rip out of him, and he sank to his knees in front of caretaker, clasping his hands together as if in prayer.

“P-please… I don’t know what- what to do. What do you want me to d-do? I will, I will, I promise- Please, ju-just tell me, please!”

He was shaking so badly that it was making his teeth chatter, and though Caretaker couldn’t see his face from this angle, he knew it would be screwed up in fear and grief like it always was in moments like these.

Shoving his own chair back, Caretaker sank down to meet whumpee on his knees, putting a hand over his clasped ones. “I want you to be able to relax, okay? I want you to trust me. Trust that I’m not going to hurt you, that you’re safe here with me, okay?”

“I can’t!”

Whumpee immediately clapped his hands over his own mouth in horror. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- I- I-“

Caretaker could hear the way he was winding himself up, the reedy, wheezing breathing that was starting to take over, and he couldn’t let him keep going.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

The tone of his voice was calm, matter of fact, but it seemed to stop Whumpee dead in surprise. He was still struggling to breathe, little hitches interrupting every breath, but at least he was still breathing.

“I’m glad that you were able to be honest, and so that we can work together, okay? That was really, really good kid.”

“R-really?” The look in his eyes was both awestruck and disbelieving, but Caretaker would prefer that over terror any day.

“Yeah. Really. Now, when you said you can’t, did you mean you couldn’t relax, or that you couldn’t trust me, or both?” Caretaker cut himself off, raising a hand gently, “It is okay, whatever answer it is. I just want to know.”

Whumpee was starting to panic again, his eyes darting from the ground then to Caretakers face and down again.

“Both.”

“Okay! Now, we can start off on the same page,” Caretaker gently squeezed his hand around both of Whumpees, “Is there anything that I can do that would make you feel more safe?”

Whumpee just cried harder for a moment, and he wondered if he had pushed too far, when he finally managed a weak “I don’t know…”

Caretaker opened his mouth to speak, but Whumpee kept going. “I want to, I want to, you’ve been nothing but good to me and I want to obey- I don’t know how- I’m so sorry…”

“Hey- Hey, kid, the last thing on my mind is obedience, I just don’t want you be afraid all the time… You’re a good kid, you shouldn’t have to feel afraid.”

To caretakers surprise, whumpee laughed, a quick short burst before seeming to get himself under control. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I just, I doubt I’ve ever been ‘not afraid’ my whole life.” He sneaks a glance at Caretakers face, the drops his eyes to the ground again.

Caretaker sighed, feeling his heart pinch. “That’s okay… I’ve never had anyone else on this farm. We’ll just have to learn together.”

Whumpee nodded quickly, seemingly trying to get himself back under his own tight fisted control. “Whumpee, how about you sit out here with me for a bit?”

Whumpee nods, and caretaker relaxes a bit. But, he still wants to know why reading set him on such a narrow edge.

They both ease back into their seats, and caretaker looks around for a change of subject. To his delight, just at that moment, a bird flew into view and perched on one of the trees nearby.

“Hey, look at that! That’s a robin, it’s really starting to warm up. They start to show up in the spring, and that’s the first one I’ve seen this season.”

Whumpee squinted, then nodded, but, caretaker could tell he hadn’t actually seen it, only pretended to. Could he see it? The way he squinted made caretaker wonder if he could need glasses…

“Here, it’s far away, I’ve got a better picture,” slowly, he reaches for his book, and flips it open to the right page, “See?”

Whumpee still tensed up, but, didn’t panic. He looked, genuine interest showing on his face for the first time he’d ever seen.

“It’s a beautiful bird sir…” Whumpee managed, looking up again before letting his eyes fall back to the book.

“Yeah… and there’ll be more, soon.”

He nods, the slightest grace of a smile on his face.

“Is this the book you thought I would be reading? A book about birds?”

Whumpee tensed further, but still didn’t panic, thankfully. “No sir.”

“Is that…good?”

Whumpees breathing stopped, and Caretaker backpedaled. “That’s a bit to open ended, huh? Could you tell me what you thought I might be reading?”

That was better. Whumpee took a deep breath. “The Bible, sir.”

Caretaker felt his heart sink, but also relief. That explained…a lot.

He forced himself to keep the conversation light, knowing the next few questions he was going to need to ask would be hard. “No, just the bird bible I suppose…” he laughs, setting it back down, and though whumpee didn’t laugh, he did relax slightly further.

“Where you were before, after they read the bible, would you be in danger? Is that why it scares you?”

“Yes,” he takes another deep breath, then another, winding himself up once more, “We’d- We would have a sermon, after, and then… sins would be- would be forgiven.”

“Oh…” So that’s why caretaker could never figure out what Whumpee had thought he’d done wrong. He hadn’t been told yet what sins he’d committed.

“I sh-should not be afraid. Sparing the rod spoils the child, I understand, but-“ Whumpee sniffed, and tears dotted the knees of his jeans, “Sometimes I thought I was going to die…”

“Whumpee…” was all Caretaker could manage, horror taking over everything else.

“I d-didn’t want to die with- with sins unforgiven.”

“Kid… that’s- you don’t- that’s not forgiveness, that’s not fair at all…”

Whumpee just shook their head, wiping their eyes.

“Do you- do you still feel like you need to hurt to be forgiven?”

“I do. That’s- that’s what it takes.”

The uncharacteristic steadiness of that sentence made Caretaker very, very worried. “No, no that’s not right. Whumpee, have you been- when I tell you to go to your room, what do you do?”

“I-“ Whumpee had picked quickly on the shift in his tone, the underlying accusation, and seemed to brace himself for the answer he had to give, “I deal with them myself.”

“How?”

Whumpee just shakes his head again, pulling back further, and he wraps his arms around himself like a hug.

“Whumpee, you have to tell me, what have you been doing?” He needed to know, needed to stop this, stop it now.

He shook his head harder, and now Caretaker was caught with an impossible decision. He doubted he could force the answer out of whumpee, but he also couldn’t just let this go, not something like this.

“Whumpee, please, please just tell me. Please don’t make me have to ask again…” He wracked his brain for what was in his room, how any of it could be used in the wrong way, but he was drawing a blank…

“Are- are you going to make me stop?”

“Yes, I have to. You can’t- it’s not- I’ll forgive you, okay? I’ll do it, if you need to be forgiven, I’ll do it. Okay?”

Whumpee looked up, not just a quick glance but held his eyes for a moment. Fear, relief, sadness, all flashed by, but the one that held steady through it all was this bone deep, haunting sense of exhaustion… Whumpee looked defeated.

“I unscrew the top of the bed post… the screw in the bottom is sharp, but, it’s not enough. Please…” Whumpee reached forward with both hands, grabbing one of Caretakers, “please forgive me, please!”

“You have to tell me what you did wrong…” he’s stalling, trying to avoid having to deny Whumpee the “forgiveness” that he wanted so badly.

“I don’t know- I don’t know but I know I have done wrong, but I always do- I know it!”

“Whumpee-“

“You said, you said you’d do it-“

“But I have to know what you did, because I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

Whumpee let go, hitting his forehead with the heels of his hands as he sobbed. “You said! I n-need- I need to be forgiven- I need to be punished!”

“No you don’t!” Without realizing, he had reached over and grabbed Whumpee by the wrists, shaking him, “You don’t need to be hurt, you don’t have to!”

Whumpee shook his head over and over, practically howling as he struggled to free his wrists.

“Please, whumpee, please stop, stop! Listen to me kid, you don’t have to do this!”

“I do, I do, I do I do I do!”

“No, you DON’T!”

Caretaker hasn’t meant to yell, and he instantly regretted it. Whumpee stopped, his chest heaving as he tried to stop crying.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he loosens his grip on whumpees wrists, “Forgiveness doesn’t mean you need to be hurt. I need you to trust me on this. I need you to try.”

Whumpee drew his hands away, hugging himself again, and nodded. Caretaker didn’t know if he nodded because he agreed, or because he was afraid not to. At the moment, Caretaker would take either, as long as whumpee would be unharmed.

“Whumpee… Just sit out here with me. I’ll get us some tea, and we’ll watch the birds. You won’t have anything to be forgiven for.”

He shakes his head again.

“What is wrong about that?”

“There should be…no joy except through God.”

“So, you think you need to be forgiven, for being happy?”

He nods quickly. “You- you’ve been so good to me, and- It means I need more forgiveness.”

Guilt settled in a heavy layer over him, even though there was no way he could have known.

“But-“ he wracked his brain for half-forgotten Sunday school lessons, “God created everything, right?”

“Every leaf, on every tree.”

Caretaker had never believed in God, but, now he knew he had to speak for him.

“Every bird? Every breeze? Every sunset?”

Whumpee nodded, eyes on his knees.

“He made every leaf of tea and every grain of sugar?”

He nodded again, eyes still down.

“Then, how could it be wrong to sit outside, and admire his creation?”

Whumpee looked up, stunned, and then out to the dry grass, the gravel drive…

“So, how about that tea?”

“Okay..”

“Great,” Caretaker felt like he could breath again, “I’ll be right back then.”

When Caretaker came back, Whumpee accepted the glass of tea carefully, and, when his eyes met Caretakers, some of the exhaustion had melted away.

They sat, and watched the birds, until the tea glasses held nothing but ice and they had looked through every picture of every bird in his book.

It would take time, and it would take work, and trust, and lots and lots of questions, but, things would get better.

#I’m trying to get to all my asks #this was written in a 4 am burst so please forgive its failings #religion mention #religious trauma #self harm #tw self harm #deconditioning #whumpee #conditioned whumpee #religious whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump writing #rescue

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sleeplesslionheart · 8 months

Text

The Haunting of Bly Manor as Allegory: Self-Sacrifice, Grief, and Queer Representation

As always, I am extremely late with my fandom infatuations—this time, I’m about three years late getting smitten with Dani and Jamie from The Haunting of Bly Manor.

Because of my lateness, I’ll confess from the start that I’m largely unfamiliar with the fandom’s output: whether fanfiction, interpretations, analyses, discourse, what have you. I’ve dabbled around a bit, but haven’t seen anything near the extent of the discussions that may or may not have happened in the wake of the show’s release, so I apologize if I’m re-treading already well-trod ground or otherwise making observations that’ve already been made. Even so, I’m completely stuck on Dani/Jamie right now and have some thoughts that I want to compose and work through.

This analysis concerns the show’s concluding episode in particular, so please be aware that it contains heavy, detailed spoilers for the ending, as well as the show in its entirety. Additionally, as a major trigger warning: this essay contains explicit references to suicide and suicidal ideation, so please tread cautiously. (These are triggers for me, and I did, in fact, manage to trigger myself while writing this—but this was also very therapeutic to write, so those triggering moments wound up also being some healing opportunities for me. But definitely take care of yourself while reading this, okay?).

After finishing Bly and necessarily being destroyed by the ending, staying up until 2:00 a.m. crying, re-watching scenes on Youtube, so on and so forth, I came away from the show (as others have before me) feeling like its ending functioned fairly well as an allegory for loving and being in a romantic partnership with someone who suffers from severe mental illness, grief, and trauma.

Without going too deeply into my own personal backstory, I want to provide some opening context, which I think will help to show why this interpretation matters to me and how I’m making sense of it.

Like many of Bly’s characters, I’ve experienced catastrophic grief and loss in my own life. A few years ago, my brother died in some horrific circumstances (which you can probably guess at if you read between the lines here), leaving me traumatized and with severe problems with my mental health. When it happened, I was engaged to a man (it was back when I thought I was straight (lol), so I’ve also found Dani’s comphet backstory to be incredibly relatable…but more on this later) who quickly tired of my grieving. Just a few months after my brother’s death, my then-fiancé started saying things like “I wish you’d just go back to normal, the way you were” and “I’ve gotten back on-track and am just waiting for you to get back on-track with me,” apparently without any understanding that my old “normal” was completely gone and was never coming back. He saw my panic attacks as threatening and unreasonable, often resorting to yelling at me to stop instead of trying to comfort me. He complained that he felt like I hadn’t reciprocated the care that he’d provided me in the immediate aftermath of my brother’s loss, and that he needed me to set aside my grief (and “heal from it”) so that he could be the center of my attention. Although this was not the sole cause, all of it laid the groundwork for our eventual breakup. It was as though my trauma and mourning had ruined the innocent happiness of his own life, and he didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

Given this, I was powerfully struck by the ways that Jamie handles Dani’s trauma: accepting and supporting her, never shaming her or diminishing her pain.

Early in the show—in their first true interaction with one another, in fact—Jamie finds Dani in the throes of a panic attack. She responds to this with no judgment; instead, she validates Dani’s experiences. To put Dani at ease, she first jokes about her own “endless well of deep, inconsolable tears,” before then offering more serious words of encouragement about how well Dani is dealing with the circumstances at Bly. Later, when Dani confesses to seeing apparitions of Peter and Edmund, Jamie doesn’t pathologize this, doubt it, or demean it, but accepts it with a sincere question about whether Dani’s ex-fiancé is with them at that moment—followed by another effort to comfort Dani with some joking (this time, a light-hearted threat at Edmund to back off) and more affirmations of Dani’s strength in the face of it all.

All of this isn’t to say, however, that Dani’s grief-driven behaviors don’t also hurt Jamie (or, more generally, that grieving folks don’t also do things that hurt their loved ones). When Dani recoils from their first kiss because of another guilt-inspired vision of Eddie, Jamie is clearly hurt and disappointed; still, Jamie doesn’t hold this against Dani, as she instead tries to take responsibility for it herself. A week later, though, Jamie strongly indicates that she needed that time to be alone in the aftermath and that she is wary that Dani’s pattern of withdrawing from her every time they start to get closer will continue to happen. Nonetheless, it’s important to note that this contributes to Dani’s recognition that she’s been allowing her guilt about Eddie’s death to become all-consuming, preventing her from acting on her own desires to be with Jamie. That recognition, in turn, leads Dani to decide to move through her grief and beyond her guilt. Once she’s alone later in the evening after that first kiss, Dani casts Eddie’s glasses into the bonfire’s lingering embers; she faces off with his specter for a final time, and after burning away his shadow, her visions of him finally cease. When she and Jamie reunite during their 6:00 a.m. terrible coffee visit, Dani acknowledges that the way that she and Jamie left things was “wrong,” and she actively tries to take steps to “do something right” by inviting Jamie out for a drink at the village pub…which, of course, just so happens to be right below Jamie’s flat. (Victoria Pedretti’s expressions in that scene are so good).

Before we continue, though, let’s pause here a moment to consider some crucial factors in all of this. First, there is a significant difference between “moving through one’s grief” and simply discarding it…or being pressured by someone else to discard it. Second, there is also a significant difference between “moving through one’s grief” and allowing one’s grief to become all-consuming. Keep these distinctions in mind as we go on.

Ultimately, the resolution of the show’s core supernatural conflict involves Dani inviting Viola’s ghost to inhabit her, which Viola accepts. This frees the other spirits who have been caught in Bly Manor’s “gravity well,” even as it dooms Dani to eventually be overtaken by Viola and her rage. Jamie, however, offers to stay with Dani while she waits for this “beast in the jungle” to claim her. The show’s final episode shows the two of them going on to forge a life together, opening a flower shop in a cute town in Vermont, enjoying years of domestic bliss, and later getting married (in what capacities they can—more on this soon), all while remaining acutely aware of the inevitability of Dani’s demise.

The allegorical potentials of this concluding narrative scenario are fairly flexible. It is possible, for instance, to interpret Dani’s “beast in the jungle” as chronic (and/or terminal) illness—in particular, there’re some harrowing readings that we could do in relation to degenerative neurological diseases associated with aging (e.g. dementia, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, progressive supranuclear palsy, etc.), especially if we put the final episode into conversation with the show’s earlier subplot about the death of Owen’s mother, its recurring themes of memory loss as a form of death (or, even, as something worse than death), and Jamie’s resonant remarks that she would rather be “put out of her misery” than let herself be “worn away a little bit every day.” For the purposes of this analysis, though, I’m primarily concerned with interpreting Viola’s lurking presence in Dani’s psyche as a stand-in for severe grief, trauma, and mental illness. …Because, even as we may “move through” grief and trauma, and even as we may work to heal from them, they never just go away completely—they’re always lurking around, waiting to resurface. (In fact, the final minutes of the last episode feature a conversation between older Jamie and Flora about contending with this inevitable recurrence of grief). Therapy can give us tools to negotiate and live with them, of course; but that doesn’t mean that they’re not still present in our lives. The tools that therapy provides are meant to help us manage those inevitable resurfacings in healthy ways. But they are not meant to return us to some pre-grief or pre-trauma state of “normality” or to make them magically dissipate into the ether, never to return. And, even with plenty of therapy and with healthy coping mechanisms, we can still experience significant mental health issues in the wake of catastrophic grief, loss, and trauma; therapy doesn’t totally preclude that possibility.

In light of my own experiences with personal tragedy, crumbling mental health, and the dissolution of a romantic partnership with someone who couldn’t accept the presence of grief in my life, I was immediately enamored with the ways that Jamie approaches the enduring aftereffects of Dani’s trauma during the show’s final episode. Jamie never once pressures Dani to just be “normal.” She never once issues any judgment about what Dani is experiencing. At those times when Dani’s grief and trauma do resurface—when the beast in the jungle catches up with her—Jamie is there to console her, often with the strategies that have always worked in their relationship: gentle, playful ribbing and words of affirmation. There are instances in which Dani doesn’t emote joyfulness during events that we might otherwise expect her to—consider, for instance, how somber Dani appears in the proposal scene, in contrast to Jamie’s smiles and laughter. (In the year after my brother’s death, my ex-fiancé and his family would observe that I seemed gloomy in situations that they thought should be fun and exciting. “Then why aren’t you smiling?” they’d ask, even when I tried to assure them that I was having a good time, but just couldn’t completely feel that or express it in the ways that I might’ve in the past). Dani even comments on an inability to feel that is all too reminiscent of the blunting of emotions that can happen in the wake of acute trauma: “It’s like I see you in front of me and I feel you touching me, and every day we’re living our lives, and I’m aware of that. But it’s like I don’t feel it all the way.” But throughout all of this (and in contrast to my own experiences with my ex), Jamie attempts to ground Dani without ever invalidating what she’s experiencing. When Dani tells her that she can’t feel, Jamie assures her, “If you can’t feel anything, then I’ll feel everything for the both of us.”

A few days after I finished the show for the first time, I gushed to a friend about how taken I was with the whole thing. Jamie was just so…not what I had experienced in my own life. I loved witnessing a representation of such a supportive and understanding partner, especially within the context of a sapphic romance. After breaking up with my own ex-fiancé, I’ve since come to terms with my sexuality and am still processing through the roles that compulsory heterosexuality and internalized homophobia have played in my life; so Dani and Jamie’s relationship has been incredibly meaningful for me to see for so, so many reasons.

“I’m glad you found the show so relatable,” my friend told me. “But,” she cautioned, “don’t lose sight of what Dani does in that relationship.” Then, she pointed out something that I hadn’t considered at all. Although Jamie may model the possibilities of a supportive partnership, Dani’s tragic death espouses a very different and very troubling perspective: the poisonous belief that I’m inevitably going to hurt my partner with my grief and trauma, so I need to leave them before I can inflict that harm on them.

Indeed, this is a deeply engrained belief that I hold about myself. While I harbor a great deal of anger at my ex-fiancé for how he treated me, there’s also still a part of me that sincerely believes that I nearly ruined his and his family’s lives by bringing such immense devastation and darkness into it. On my bad days (which are many), I have strong convictions about this in relation to my future romantic prospects as well. How could anyone ever want to be with me? I wonder. And even if someone eventually does try to be with me, all I’ll do is ruin her life with all my trauma and sadness. I shouldn’t even want to be with anyone, because I don’t want to hurt someone else. I don’t want someone else to deal with what I’ve had to deal with. I even think about this, too, with my friends. Since my brother’s death and my breakup, I’ve gone through even more trauma, pain, grief, and loss, such that now I continue to struggle enormously with issues like anhedonia, emotional fragility, and social anxiety. I worry, consequently, that I’m just a burden on my friends. That I’m too hard to be around. That being around me, with all of my pain and perpetual misfortune, just causes my friends pain, too. That they’re better off not having to deal with me at all. I could spare them all, I think, by just letting them go, by not bothering them anymore.

I suspect that this is why I didn’t notice any issues with Dani’s behavior at the end of Bly Manor at first. Well…that and the fact that the reality of the show’s conclusion is immensely triggering for me. Probably, my attention just kind of slid past the truth of it in favor of indulging in the catharsis of a sad gay romance.

But after my friend observed this issue, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I realized, then, that I hadn’t extended the allegory out to its necessary conclusion…which is that Dani has, in effect, committed suicide in order to—or so she believes, at least—protect Jamie from her. This is the case regardless of whether we keep Viola’s ghost in the mix as an actual, tangible, existing threat within the show’s diegesis or as a figurative symbol of the ways that other forces can “haunt” us to the point of our own self-destruction. If the former, then Dani’s suicide (or the more gentle and elusive description that I’ve seen: her act of “giving herself to the lake”) is to prevent Viola’s ghost from ever harming Jamie. But if the latter, if we continue doing the work of allegorical readings, then it’s possible to interpret Bly’s conclusion as the tragedy of Dani ultimately succumbing to her mental illness and suicidal ideation.

The problems with this allegory’s import really start cropping up, however, when we consider the ways that the show valorizes Dani’s actions as an expression of ultimate, self-sacrificing love—a valorization that Bly accomplishes, in particular, through its sustained contrasting of love and possession.

The Implications of Idealizing Self-Sacrifice as True Love

During a pivotal conversation in one of the show’s early episodes, Dani and Jamie discuss the “wrong kind of love” that existed between Rebecca Jessel and Peter Quint. Jamie remarks on how she “understands why so many people mix up love and possession,” thereby characterizing Rebecca and Peter’s romance as a matter of possession—as well as hinting, perhaps, that Jamie herself has had experiences with this in her own past. After considering for a moment, Dani agrees: “People do, don’t they? Mix up love and possession. […] I don’t think that should be possible. I mean, they’re opposites, really, love and ownership.” We can already tell from this scene that Dani and Jamie are, themselves, heading towards a burgeoning romance—and that this contrast between love and possession (and their self-awareness of it) is going to become a defining feature of that romance.

Indeed, the show takes great pains to emphasize the genuine love that exists between Dani and Jamie against the damaging drive for possession enacted by characters like Peter (who consistently manipulates Rebecca and kills her to keep her ghost with him) and Viola (who has killed numerous people and trapped their souls at Bly over the centuries in a long since forgotten effort to reclaim her life with her husband and daughter from Perdita, her murderously jealous sister). These contrasts take multiple forms and emerge from multiple angles, all to establish that Dani and Jamie’s love is uniquely safe, caring, healing, mutually supportive, and built on a foundation of prevailing concern for the other’s wellbeing. Some of these contrasts are subtle and understated. Consider, for instance, how Hannah observes that Rebecca looks like she hasn’t slept in days because of the turmoil of her entanglements with Peter, whereas Jamie’s narration describes how Dani gets the best sleep of her life during the first night that she and Jamie spend together. Note, too, the editing work in Episode 6 that fades in and out between the memories of the destructive ramifications of Henry and Charlotte’s affair and the scenes of tender progression in Dani and Jamie’s romance. Other contrasts, though, are far more overt. Of course, one of the most blatant examples (and most pertinent to this analysis) is the very fact that the ghosts of Viola, Peter, and Rebecca are striving to reclaim the people they love and the lives that they’ve lost by literally possessing the bodies and existences of the living.

The role of consent is an important factor in these ghostly possessions and serves as a further contrast with Dani and Jamie’s relationship. Peter and Rebecca frequently possess Miles and Flora without their consent—at times, even, when the children explicitly tell them to stop or, at the very least, to provide them with warnings beforehand. While inhabiting the children, Peter and Rebecca go on to harm them and put them at risk (e.g. Peter smokes cigarettes while in Miles’s body; Rebecca leaves Flora alone and unconscious on the grounds outside the manor) and to commit acts of violence against others (e.g. Peter pushes Hannah into the well, killing her; Peter and Rebecca together attack Dani and restrain her). The “It’s you, it’s me, it’s us,” conceit—with which living people can invite Bly’s ghosts to possess them, the mechanism by which Dani breaks the curse of Bly’s gravity well—is a case of dubious consent at best and abusive, violent control at worst. (“I didn’t agree,” Rebecca says after Peter leaves her body, releasing his “invited” possession of her at the very moment that the lake’s waters start to fill her lungs).

Against these selfish possessions and wrong kinds of love, Jamie and Dani’s love is defined by their selfless refusal to possess one another. A key characteristic of their courtship involves them expressing vulnerability in ways that invite the other to make their own decisions about whether to accept and how to proceed (or not proceed). As we discussed earlier, Dani and Jamie’s first kiss happens after Dani opens up about her guilt surrounding her ex-fiancé’s death. Pausing that kiss, Jamie checks, “You sure?” and only continues after Dani answers with a spoken yes. (Let’s also take this moment to appreciate Amelia Eve’s excellent, whispered “Thank fuck,” that isn’t included in Netflix’s subtitles). Even so, Dani frantically breaks away from her just moments later. But Jamie accepts this and doesn’t push Dani to continue, believing, in fact, that Dani has withdrawn precisely because Jamie has pushed too much already. A week later, Dani takes the initiative to advance their budding romance by inviting Jamie out for a drink—which Jamie accepts by, instead, taking Dani to see her blooming moonflowers that very evening. There, in her own moment of vulnerability, Jamie shares her heart-wrenching and tumultuous backstory with Dani in order to “skip to the end” and spare Dani the effort of getting to know her. By openly sharing these difficult details about herself, Jamie evidently intends to provide Dani with information that would help her decide for herself whether she wants to continue their relationship or not.

Their shared refusal to possess reaches its ultimate culmination in that moment, all those years later, when Dani discovers just how close she’s come to strangling Jamie—and then leaves their home to travel all the way back to Bly and drown herself in the lake because she could “not risk her most important thing, her most important person.” Upon waking to find that Dani has left, Jamie immediately sets off to follow her back to Bly. And in an absolutely heartbreaking, beautiful scene, we see Jamie attempting the “you, me, us,” invitation, desperate for Dani to possess her, for Dani to take Jamie with her. (Y’all, I know I’m critiquing this scene right now, but I also fuckin’ love it, okay? Ugh. The sight of Jamie screaming into the water and helplessly grasping for Dani is gonna stay with me forever. brb while I go cry about it again). Dani, of course, refuses this plea. Because “Dani wouldn’t. Dani would never.” Further emphasizing the nobility of Dani’s actions, Jamie’s narration also reveals that Dani’s self-sacrificial death has not only spared Jamie alone, but has also enabled Dani to take the place of the Lady of the Lake and thereby ensure that no one else can be taken and possessed by Viola’s gravity well ever again.

And so we have the show’s ennoblement of Dani’s magnanimous self-sacrifice. By inviting Viola to possess her, drowning herself to keep from harming Jamie, and then refusing to possess Jamie or anyone else, Dani has effectively saved everyone: the children, the restive souls that have been trapped at Bly, anyone else who may ever come to Bly in the future, and the woman she loves most. Dani has also, then, broken the perpetuation of Bly’s cycles of possession and trauma with her selfless expression of love for Jamie.

The unfortunate effect of all of this is that, quite without meaning to (I think? I hope—), The Haunting of Bly Manor ends up stumbling headlong into a validation of suicide as a selfless act of true love, as a force of protection and salvation.

So, before we proceed, I just want to take this moment to say—definitively, emphatically, as someone who has survived and experienced firsthand the ineffably catastrophic consequences of suicide—that suicide is nothing remotely resembling a selfless “refusal to possess” or an act of love. I’m not going to harp extensively on this, though, because I’d rather not trigger myself for a second time (so far, lol) while writing this essay. Just take my fuckin’ word for it. And before anybody tries to hit me with some excuse like “But Squall, it isn’t that the show is valorizing suicide, it’s that Dani is literally protecting Jamie from Viola,” please consider that I’ve already discussed how the show’s depiction of this lent itself to my own noxious beliefs that “all I do is harm other people with my grief, so maybe I should stop talking to my friends so that they don’t have to deal with me anymore.” Please consider what these narrative details and their allegorical import might tell people who are struggling with their mental health—even if not with suicidal ideation, then with the notion that they should self-sacrificially remove themselves from relationships for the sake of sparing loved ones from (assumed) harm.

Okay, that said, now let’s proceed…‘cause I’ve got even more to say, ‘cause the more I mulled over these details, the more I also came to realize that Dani’s self-sacrificial death in Bly’s conclusion also has the unfortunate effect of undermining some of its other (attempted) themes and its queer representation.

What Bly Manor Tries (and Fails) to Say about Grief and Acceptance

Let’s start by jumping back to a theme we’ve already addressed briefly: moving through one’s grief.

The Haunting of Bly Manor does, in fact, have a lot to say about this. Or…it wants to, more like. On the whole, it seems like it’s trying really hard to give us a cautionary tale about the destructive effects of unprocessed grief and the misplaced guilt that we can wind up carrying around when someone we love dies. The show spends a whole lot of time preaching about how important it is that we learn to accept our losses without allowing them to totally consume us—or without lingering around in denial about them (gettin’ some Kübler-Ross in here, y’all). Sadly, though, it does kind of a half-assed job of it…despite the fact that this is a major recurring theme and a component of the characterizations and storylines of, like, most of its characters. In fact, this fundamentally Kübler-Rossian understanding of what it means to move through grief and to accept loss and mortality appears to be the show’s guiding framework. During his rehearsal dinner speech in the first episode, Owen proclaims that, “To truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them,” with such eerie resonance—as the camera stays set on Jamie’s unwavering gaze—that we know that what we’re about to experience is a story about accepting the inevitable losses of the people we love.

Bly Manor is chock full of characters who’re stuck in earlier stages of grief but aren’t really moving along to reach that acceptance stage. I mean, the whole cause of the main supernatural haunting is that Viola so ferociously refuses to accept her death and move on from her rage (brought about by Perdita’s resentment) that she spends centuries strangling whoever she comes across, which then effectively traps them there with her. And the other antagonistic ghostly forces, Rebecca and Peter, also obviously suck at accepting their own deaths, given that they actually believe that possessing two children is a perfectly fine (and splendid) way for them to grasp at some semblance of life again. (Actually…the more that I’ve thought about this, the more that I think each of the pre-acceptance stages of grief in Kübler-Ross’s model may even have a corresponding character to represent it: Hannah is denial; Viola is anger; Peter and Rebecca are bargaining; Henry is depression. Just a little something to chew on).

But let’s talk more at-length about this theme in relation to two characters we haven’t focused on yet: Hannah and Henry. For Hannah, this theme shows up in her struggles to accept that her husband, Sam, has left her (Charlotte wryly burns candles in the chapel as though marking his passing, while Hannah seems to be holding out hope that he might return) and in her persistent denial that Peter-as-Miles has killed her. As a ghost, she determinedly continues going about her daily life and chores even as she’s progressively losing her grip on reality. Henry, meanwhile, won’t issue official notifications of Dominic’s death and continues to collect his mail because doing otherwise would mean admitting to the true finality of Dominic’s loss. At the same time, he is so, completely consumed by his guilt about the role that he believes he played in Charlotte and Dominic’s deaths that he’s haunting himself with an evil alter-ego. His overriding guilt and despair also result in his refusal to be more present in Miles and Flora’s lives—even with the knowledge that Flora is actually his daughter.

In the end, both Hannah and Henry reach some critical moments of acceptance. But, honestly, the show doesn’t do a great job of bringing home this theme of move through your grief with either of them…or with anybody else, really. Peter basically winds up bullying Hannah into recognizing that her broken body is still at the bottom of the well—and then she accepts her own death right in time to make a completely abortive attempt at rescuing Dani and Flora. Henry finally has a preternatural Bad Feeling about things (something about a phone being disconnected? whose phone? Bly’s phone? his phone? I don’t understand), snaps to attention, and rushes to Bly right in time to make an equally abortive rescue attempt that leaves him incapacitated so that his not-quite-ghost can hang out with Hannah long enough to find out that she’s dead. But at least he decides to be an attentive uncle/dad to Miles and Flora after that, I guess. Otherwise, Hannah and Henry get handwaved away pretty quickly before we can really witness what their acceptance means for them in any meaningful detail. (I blame this on some sloppy writing and the way-too-long, all-about-Viola eighth episode. And, on that note, what about the “acceptances” of Rebecca, Peter, and Viola there at the end? Rebecca does get an interesting moment of acceptance—of a sort—with her offer to possess Flora in order to experience Flora’s imminent drowning for her, thereby sparing the child by tucking her in a happy memory. Peter just…disappears at the end with some way-too-late words of apology. Viola’s “acceptance,” however, is tricky…What she accepts is Dani’s invitation to inhabit her. More on this later).

Hannah and Henry’s stories appear to be part of the show’s efforts to warn us about the ways that unprocessed, all-consuming grief can cause us to miss opportunities to have meaningful relationships with others. Hannah doesn’t just miss her chance to be with Owen because…well, she’s dead, but also because of her unwillingness to move on from Sam beforehand. Her denial about her own death, in turn, prevents her from taking the opportunity as a ghost to tell Owen that she loves him. Henry, at least, does figure out that he’s about to lose his chance to be a caring parental figure to his daughter and nephew—but just barely. It takes the near-deaths of him and the children to finally prompt that realization.

Of the cast, Dani gets the most thorough and intentional development of this move through your grief theme. And, importantly, she learns this lesson in time to cultivate a meaningful relationship that she could’ve easily missed out on otherwise. As we’ve already discussed, a critical part of Dani’s character arc involves her realization that she has to directly confront Edmund’s death and start absolving herself of her guilt in order to open up the possibility of a romantic relationship with Jamie. In Episode 4, Jamie’s narration suggests that Dani has had a habit of putting off such difficult processes (whether in regards to moving through her grief, breaking off her engagement to Edmund, or coming to terms with her sexuality), as she’s been constantly deferring to “another night, another time for years and years.” Indeed, the show’s early episodes are largely devoted to showing the consequences of Dani’s deferrals and avoidances. From the very beginning, we see just how intrusively Dani’s unresolved guilt is impacting her daily life and functioning. She covers up mirrors to try to prevent herself from encountering Edmund’s haunting visage, yet still spots him in the reflections of windows and polished surfaces. Panic attacks seem to be regular occurrences for her, sparked by reminders of him. And all of this only gets worse and more disruptive as Dani starts acting on her attraction to Jamie.

It's only after Dani decides to begin moving through her grief and guilt that she’s able to start becoming emotionally and physically intimate with Jamie. And the major turning point for this comes during a scene that features a direct, explicit discussion of the importance of accepting (and even embracing) mortality.

That’s right—it’s time to talk about the moonflower scene.

In a very “I am extremely fed up with people not being able to deal with my traumatic past, so I’m going to tell you about all of the shit that I’ve been through so that you can go ahead and decide whether you want to bolt right now instead of just dropping me later on” move (which…legit, Jamie—I feel that), Jamie sits Dani down at her moonflower patch to give her the full rundown of her own personal backstory and worldview. Her monologue evinces both a profound cynicism and a profound valuation of human life…all of which is also suggestive, to me at least, of a traumatized person who at once desperately wishes for intimate connection, but who’s also been burned way too many times (something with which I am wholly unfamiliar, lol). She characterizes people as “exhaustive effort with very little to show for it,” only to go on to wax poetic about how human mortality is as beautiful as the ephemeral buds of a moonflower. This is, in essence, Jamie’s sorta convoluted way of articulating that whole “To truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them” idea.

After detailing her own past, Jamie shifts gears to suggest that she believes that cultivating a relationship with Dani—like the devoted work of growing a tropical, transient Ipomoea alba in England—might be worth the effort. And as part of this cultivation work, Jamie then acknowledges Dani’s struggles with her guilt, while also firmly encouraging her to move through it by accepting the beauty of mortality:

“I know you’re carrying this guilt around, but I also know that you don’t decide who lives and who doesn’t. I’m sorry Dani, but you don’t. Humans are organic. It’s a fact. We’re meant to die. It’s natural…beautiful. […] We leave more life behind to take our place. Like this moonflower. It’s where all its beauty lies, you know. In the mortality of the thing.”

After that, Jamie and Dani are finally able to make out unimpeded.

Frustratingly, though, Jamie’s own dealings with grief, loss, and trauma remain terribly understated throughout the show. Her monologue in the moonflower scene is really the most insight that we ever get. Jamie consistently comes off as better equipped to contend with life’s hardships than many of Bly’s other characters; and she is, in fact, the sole member of the cast who is confirmed to have ever had any sort of professional therapy. She regularly demonstrates a remarkable sense of empathy and emotional awareness, able to pick up on others’ needs and then support them accordingly, though often in gruff, tough-love forms. Further, there are numerous scenes in which we see Jamie bestowing incisive guidance for handling difficult situations: the moonflower scene, her advice to Rebecca about contacting Henry after Peter’s disappearance, and her suggestion to Dani that Flora needs to see a psychologist, to name just a few. As such, Jamie appears to have—or, at least, projects—a sort of unflappable groundedness that sets her apart from everyone else in the show.

Bly only suggests that Jamie’s struggles run far deeper than she lets on. There are a few times that we witness quick-tempered outbursts (usually provoked by Miles) and hints of bottled-up rage. Lest we forget, although it was Flora who first found Rebecca’s dead body floating in the water, it was Jamie who then found them both immediately thereafter. We see this happen, but we never learn anything about the impact that this must have had on her. Indeed, Jamie’s exposure to the layered, compounding grief at Bly has no doubt inflicted a great deal of pain on her, suggested by details like her memorialization of Charlotte and Dominic during the bonfire scene. If we look past her flippancy, there must be more than a few grains of truth to that endless well of deep, inconsolable tears—but Jamie never actually shares what they might be. Moreover, although the moonflower scene reveals the complex traumas of her past, we never get any follow-up or elaboration about those details or Dani’s observation of the scar on her shoulder. For the most part, Jamie’s grief goes unspoken.

There’s a case to be made that these omissions are a byproduct of narrator Jamie decentering herself in a story whose primary focus is Dani. Narrator Jamie even claims that the story she’s telling “isn’t really my story. It belongs to someone I knew” (yes, it’s a diversionary tactic to keep us from learning her identity too soon—but she also means it). And in plenty of respects, the telling of the story is, itself, Jamie’s extended expression of her grief. By engaging in this act of oral storytelling to share Dani’s sacrifice with others—especially with those who would have otherwise forgotten—Jamie is performing an important ritual of mourning her wife. Still, it’s for exactly these reasons that I think it would’ve been valuable for the show to include more about the impacts that grief, loss, and trauma had on Jamie prior to Dani’s death. Jamie’s underdevelopment on this front feels more like a disappointing oversight of the show’s writing than her narrator self’s intentional, careful withholding of information. Additionally, I think that Bly leaves Jamie’s grieving on an…odd note (though, yes, I know I’m just a curmudgeonly outlier here). Those saccharine final moments of Jamie filling up the bathtub and sleeping on a chair so that she can face the cracked doorway are a little too heavy-handedly tear-jerking for my liking. And while this, too, may be a ritual of mourning after the undoubtedly taxing effort of telling Dani’s story, it may also suggest that Jamie is demurring her own acceptance of Dani’s death. Is the hand on her shoulder really Dani’s ghost? Or is it Jamie’s own hopeful fabrication that her wife’s spirit is watching over her? (Or—to counter my own point here and suggest a different alternative—could this latter idea (i.e. the imagining of Dani’s ghost) also be another valid manner of “accepting” a loss by preserving a loved one’s presence? “Dead doesn’t mean gone,” after all. …Anyway, maybe I would be more charitable to this scene if not for the hokey, totally out-of-place song. Coulda done without that, seriously).

But let’s jump back to the moonflower scene. For Dani, this marks an important moment in the progression of her own movement through grief. In combination, her newfound readiness to contend with her guilt and her eagerness to grow closer to Jamie enable Dani to find a sense of peace that she hasn’t experienced since Eddie’s death…or maybe ever, really (hang on to this thought for this essay’s final section, too). When she and Jamie sleep together for the first time, not only does Dani actually sleep well, but she also wakes the next morning to do something that she hasn’t done to that point and won’t do again: she comfortably looks into a mirror. (One small qualification to this: Dani does look into her own reflection at the diner when she and Jamie are on their road trip; Viola doesn’t interfere then, but whether this is actually a comfortable moment is questionable). Then, shifting her gaze away from her own reflection, she sees Jamie still sleeping soundly in her bed—and smiles. It’s a fleeting moment of peace. Immediately after that, she spots Flora out the window, which throws everything back into accumulating turmoil. But that moment of peace, however fleeting, is still a powerful one.

However, Bly teases this narrative about the possibilities of finding healing in the wake of traumatic loss—especially through the cultivation of meaningful and supportive relationships with others—only to then totally pull that rug out from under Dani in the final episode.

During that final episode, we see that Dani’s shared life with Jamie has supported her in coming to terms with Viola’s lurking presence, such that “at long last, deep within the au pair’s heart, there was peace. And that peace held for years, which is more than some of us ever get.” But it’s at the exact moment that that line of narration occurs that we then begin to witness Dani’s steady, inexorable decline. Sure, we could say that Dani “accepts” Viola’s intrusions and the unavoidable eventuality that the ghost will seize control of her. But this isn’t a healthy acceptance or even a depiction of the fraught relationships that we can have with grief and trauma as we continue to process them throughout our lives. At all. Instead, it’s a distinctive, destructive sense of fatalism.

“I’m not even scared of her anymore,” Dani tells Jamie as the flooded bathtub spills around them. “I just stare at her and it's getting harder and harder to see me. Maybe I should just accept that. Maybe I should just accept that and go.” Remember way back at the beginning of this essay when I pointed out that there’s a significant difference between “moving through one’s grief” and allowing one’s grief to become all-consuming? Well, by the time we reach the bathtub scene, Dani’s grief and trauma have completely overtaken her. Her “acceptance” is, thus, a fatalistic, catastrophizing determination that her trauma defines her existence, such that she believes that all she has left to do is give up her life in order to protect Jamie from her. For a less ghostly (and less suicidal ideation-y) and more real-life example to illustrate what I’m getting at here: this would be like me saying “I should just accept that I’m never going to be anything other than a traumatized mess and should stop reaching out to my friends so that I don’t keep hurting them by making them deal with what a mess I am.” If I said something like this, I suspect (hope) that you would tell me that this is not a productive acceptance, but a pernicious narrative that only hurts me and the people who care about me. Sadly, though, this kind of pernicious narrative is exactly what we get out of Bly’s ending allegory.

“But Squall,” you may be thinking, “this scene is representing how people who struggle with their mental health can actually feel. This is exactly what it can be like to have severe mental illness, even for folks who have strong support systems and healthy, meaningful relationships. And there’s value in showing that.”

And if you’re thinking that, then first of all—as I have indicated already—I am aware that this is what it can be like. Very aware. And second of all, you make a fair point, but…there are ways that the show could’ve represented this without concluding that representation with a suicide that it effectively valorizes. I’ll contend with this more in the final section, where I offer a few suggestions of other ways that Bly could’ve ended instead.

I just want to be absolutely clear that I’m not saying that I think all media portrayals of mental illness need to be hopeful or wholesome or end in “positive” ways. But what I am saying is that Bly’s conclusion offers a really fuckin’ bleak outlook on grief, trauma, and mental illness, especially when we fit that ending into the framework of the show’s other (attempted) core themes, as well as Dani’s earlier character development. It’s especially bleak to see this as someone with severe mental health issues and who has also lost a loved one to suicide—and as someone who desperately hopes that my life and worldview won’t always stay so darkly colored by my trauma.

Additionally, it’s also worth pausing here to acknowledge that fatalism is, in fact, a major theme of The Beast in the Jungle, the 1903 Henry James novella on which the ninth episode is loosely based. I confess that I’ve only read about this novella, but haven’t read the story itself. However, based on my (admittedly limited) understanding of it, there appears to be a significant thematic rupture between The Beast in the Jungle and The Haunting of Bly Manor in their treatments of fatalism. In the end of the novella, its protagonist, John Marcher, comes to the realization that his fatalism has been a horrible mistake that has caused him to completely miss out on an opportunity for love that was right in front of him all along. The tragic fate to which Marcher believed that he was doomed was, in the end, his own fatalism. Dani, in contrast, never has this moment of recognition, not only because her fatalism leads to her own death, but also because the show treats her fatalism not as something that keeps her from love, but instead as leading her towards a definitive act of love.

All of this is exactly why Dani’s portrayal has become so damn concerning to me, and why I don’t believe that Bly’s allegory of “this is what it’s like to live with mental illness and/or to love (and lose) someone who is mentally ill” is somehow value-neutral—or, worse, something worth celebrating.

How Dani’s Self-Sacrifice Bears on Bly’s Queer Representation

In my dabblings around the fandom so far, I’ve seen a fair amount of deliberation about whether or not Bly Manor’s ending constitutes an example of the Bury Your Gays trope.

Honestly, though, I am super unenthused about rehashing those deliberations or splitting hairs trying to give some definitive “yes it is” or “no it isn’t” answer, so…I’m just not going to. Instead, I’m going to offer up some further observations about how Dani’s self-sacrificial death impinges on Bly’s queer representation, regardless of whether Bury Your Gays is at work here or not.

I would also like to humbly submit that the show could’ve just…not fucked around in proximity of that trope in the first place so that we wouldn’t even need to be having these conversations.

But anyway. I’m going to start this section off with a disclaimer.

Even though I’m leveling some pretty fierce critiques in this section (and across this essay), I do also want to say that I adore that The Haunting of Bly Manor and its creators gave us a narrative that centers two queer women and their romantic relationship as its driving forces and that intentionally sets out to portray the healing potentials of sapphic love as a contrast to the destructive, coercive harms found in many conventional dynamics of hegemonic heteronormativity. I don’t want to downplay that, because I’m extremely happy that this show exists, and I sincerely believe that many elements of its representation are potent and meaningful and amazing. But…I also have some reservations with this portrayal that I want to share. I critique not because I don’t love, but because I do love. I love this show a lot. I love Dani and Jamie a lot. I critique because I love and because I want more and better in future media.

So, that being said…let’s move on to talk about Dani, self-sacrifice, and compulsory heterosexuality.

Well before Dani’s ennobled death, Bly establishes self-sacrifice as a core component of her characterization. It’s hardwired into her, no doubt due to the relentless, entangled educational work of compulsory heterosexuality (comphet) and the aggressive forms of socialization that tell girls and women that their roles in life are to sacrifice themselves in order to please others and to belong to men. Indeed, Episode 4’s series of flashbacks emphasizes the interconnectedness between comphet and Dani’s beliefs that she is supposed to sacrifice herself for others’ sakes, revealing how these forces have shaped who she is and the decisions that she’s made across her life. (While we’re at it, let’s also not lose sight of the fact that Dani’s profession during this time period is one that—in American culture, at least—has come to rely on a distinctively feminized self-sacrificiality in order to function. Prior to becoming an au pair, Dani was a schoolteacher. In fact, in one of Episode 4’s flashbacks, Eddie’s mother points out that she appreciates Dani’s knack for identifying the kids that need her the most, but also reminds Dani that she needs to take care of herself…which suggests that Dani hadn’t been: “Save them all if you can, but put your own oxygen mask on first”).

In the flashback of her engagement party, Dani’s visible discomfort during Edmund’s speech clues us in that she wasn’t preparing to marry him because she genuinely wanted to, but because she felt like she was supposed to. The “childhood sweethearts” narrative bears down on the couple, celebrated by their friends and family, vaunted by cultural constructs that prize this life trajectory as a cherished, “happily ever after” ideal. Further illustrating the pressures to which Dani had been subject, the same scene shows Eddie’s mother, Judy O’Mara, presenting Dani with her own wedding dress and asking Dani to wear it when she marries Eddie. Despite Mrs. O’Mara’s assurances that Dani can say no, the hopes that she heaps onto Dani make abundantly clear that anything other than a yes would disappoint her. Later, another flashback shows Dani having that dress sized and fitted while her mother and Mrs. O’Mara look on and chatter about their own weddings and marriages. Their conversation is imbued with further hopes that Dani’s marriage to Edmund will improve on the mistakes that they made in their lives. Meanwhile, Dani’s attentiveness to the tailor who takes her measurements, compliments her body, and places a hand on her back strongly suggests that Dani is suppressing her attraction to women. Though brief, this scene is a weighty demonstration of the ways that the enclosures of heteronormativity constrain women into believing that their only option is to deny homosexual attraction, to forfeit their own desires in order to remain in relationships with men, and to prioritize the hopes and dreams and aspirations of the people around them above their own.

Dani followed this pathway—determined for her by everyone else except herself—until she couldn’t anymore.

During the flashback of their breakup, Dani explains to Eddie that she didn’t end their relationship sooner because she thought that even just having desires that didn’t match his and his family’s was selfish of her: “I should’ve said something sooner. […] I didn’t want to hurt you, or your mom, or your family. And then it was just what we were doing. […] I just thought I was being selfish, that I could just stick it out, and eventually I would feel how I was supposed to.” As happens to so many women, Dani was on the cusp of sacrificing her life for the sake of “sticking out” a marriage to a man, all because she so deeply believed that it was her duty to satisfy everyone’s expectations of her and that it was her responsibility to change her own feelings about that plight.

And Eddie’s response to this is telling. “Fuck you, Danielle,” he says. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Pay close attention to those last two words. Underline ‘em. Bold ‘em. Italicize ‘em.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

With those two words, Eddie indicates that he views Dani’s refusal to marry him as something that she is doing to him, a harm that she is committing against him. It is as though Dani is inflicting her will on him, or even that she is unjustly attackinghim by finally admitting that her desires run contrary to his own, that she doesn’t want to be his wife. And with this statement, he confirms precisely what she anticipated would happen upon giving voice to her true feelings.

What space did Edmund, his family, or Dani’s mother ever grant for Dani to have aspirations of her own that weren’t towards the preordained role of Eddie’s future wife? Let’s jump back to that engagement party. Eddie’s entire speech reveals a very longstanding assumption of his claim over her as his wife-to-be. He’d first asked Dani to marry him when they were ten years old, after he mistakenly believed that their first kiss could get Dani pregnant; Dani turned him down then, saying that they were too young. So, over the years, as they got older, Eddie continued to repeatedly ask her—until, presumably, she relented. “Now, we’re still pretty young,” he remarks as he concludes his speech, “but I think we’re old enough to know what we want.” Significantly, Eddie speaks here not just for himself, but also for Dani. Dani’s voice throughout the entire party is notably absent, as Eddie and his mother both impose their own wishes on her, assume that she wants what they want, and don’t really open any possibility for her to say otherwise. Moreover, although there’s a palpable awkwardness that accompanies Eddie’s story, the crowd at the party chuckles along as though it’s a sweet, innocent tale of lifelong love and devotion, and not an instance of a man whittling away at a woman’s resistance until she finally caved to his pursuit of her.

All of this suggests that Eddie shared in the socialized convictions of heteropatriarchy, according to which Dani’s purpose and destiny were to marry him and to make him happy. His patterns of behavior evince the unquestioned presumptions of so many men: that women exist in service to them and their wants, such that it is utterly inconceivable that women could possibly desire otherwise. As a political institution, heteropatriarchy tells men that they are entitled to women’s existences, bodies, futures. And, indeed, Eddie can’t seem to even imagine that Dani could ever want anything other than the future that he has mapped out for them. (Oh, hey look, we’ve got some love vs. possession going on here again).

For what it’s worth, I think that the show’s portrayal of compulsory heterosexuality is excellent. I love that the writers decided to tackle this. Like I mentioned at the beginning, I found all of this to be extremelyrelatable. I might even be accused of over-relating and projecting my own experiences onto my readings here, but…there were just too many resonances between Dani’s experiences and my own. Mrs. O’Mara’s advice to Dani to “put your own oxygen mask on first” is all too reminiscent of the ways that my ex’s parents would encourage me to “heal” from my brother’s loss…but not for the sake of my own wellbeing, but so that I would return to prioritizing the care of their son and existing to do whatever would make him happy. I’ll also share here that what drove me to break up with my ex-fiancé wasn’t just his unwillingness to contend with my grief, but the fact that he had decided that the best way for me to heal from my loss would be to have a baby. He insisted that I could counteract my brother’s death by “bringing new life into the world.” And he would not take no for an answer. He told me that if I wouldn’t agree to try to have children in the near future, then he wasn’t interested in continuing to stay with me. It took me months to pluck up the courage, but I finally answered this ultimatum by ending our relationship myself. Thus, like Dani, I came very close to sacrificing myself, my wants, my body, my future, and my life for the sake of doing what my fiancé and his family wanted me to do, all while painfully denying my own attraction to women. What kept me from “sticking it out” any longer was that I finally decided that I wasn’t going to sacrifice myself for a man I didn’t love (and who clearly didn’t love me) and decided, instead, to reclaim my own wants and needs away from him.

For Dani, however, the moment that she finally begins to reclaim her wants and needs away from Eddie is also the moment that he furiously jumps out of the driver’s seat and into the path of a passing truck, which leaves her to entangle those events as though his death is her fault for finally asserting herself.

Of course, the guilt that Dani feels for having “caused” Eddie’s death isn’t justa matter of breaking up with him and thereby provoking a reaction that would prove fatal—it’s also the guilt of her suppressed homosexual desire, of not desiring Eddie in the first place. In other words, internalized homophobia is an inextricable layer of the culpability that Dani feels. Internalized homophobia is also what’s haunting her. As others (such as Rowan Ellis, whose deep dive includes a solid discussion of internalized homophobia in Bly, as well as a more at-length examination of Bury Your Gays than I’m providing here) have pointed out, the show highlights this metaphorically by having Dani literally get locked into a closet with Edmund’s ghost in the very first episode. Further reinforcing this idea is the fact that these spectral visions get even worse as Dani starts to come to terms with and act on her attraction to Jamie, as though the ghost is punishing her for her desires. Across Episode 3, as Dani and Jamie begin spending more time together, Edmund’s ghost concurrently begins materializing in more shocking, visceral forms (e.g. his bleeding hand in Dani’s bed; his shadowy figure lurking behind Dani after she’s held Jamie’s hand) that exceed the reflective surfaces to which he’d previously been confined. This continues into Episode 4, where each of Eddie’s appearances follows moments of Dani’s growing closeness to Jamie. A particularly alarming instance occurs when Dani just can’t seem to pry her gaze away from a dressed-up Jamie who’s in the process of some mild undressing. Finally turning away from Jamie, Dani becomes aware of Eddie’s hands on her hips. It’s a violating reminder of his claims over her, horrifying in its invocation of men’s efforts to coerce and control women’s sexuality.

It is incredibly powerful, then, to watch Dani answer all of this by becoming more resolute and assertive in the expression of her wants and needs. The establishment of her romantic relationship with Jamie isn’t just the movement through grief and guilt that we discussed earlier; it’s also Dani’s defiance of compulsory heterosexuality and her fierce claiming of her queer existence. Even in the face of all that’s been haunting her, Dani initiates her first kiss with Jamie; and Eddie’s intrusion in that moment is only enough to temporarily dissuade her, as Dani follows this up by then asking Jamie out for a drink at the pub to “see where that takes them” (i.e. up to Jamie’s flat to bang, obviously). The peace that Dani finds after having sex with Jamie for the first time is, therefore, also the profound fulfillment of at last having her first sexual experience with a woman, of finally giving expression to this critical part of herself that she’d spent her entire life denying. Compulsory heterosexuality had dictated to Dani that she must self-sacrifice to meet the strictures of heteropatriarchy, to please everyone except herself; but in her relationship with Jamie, Dani learns that she doesn’t have to do this at all. This is only bolstered by the fact that, as we’ve talked about at length already, Jamie is very attentive to Dani’s needs and respectful of her boundaries. Jamie doesn’t want Dani to do anything other than what Dani wants to do. And so, in the cultivation of their romantic partnership, Dani thus comes to value her own wants and needs in a way that she hasn’t before.

The fact that the show nails all of this so fucking well is what makes all that comes later so goddamn frustrating.

The final episode chronicles Dani and Jamie forging a queer life together that the rest of us can only dream of, including another scene of Dani flouting homophobia and negotiating her own internal struggles so that she can be with Jamie. “I know we can’t technically get married,” she tells Jamie when she proposes to her, “but I also don’t really care.” And with her awareness that the beast in the jungle is starting to catch up with her, Dani tells Jamie that she wants to spend whatever time she has left with her.

But then…

A few scenes later—along with a jump of a few years later, presumably—Jamie arrives home with the licenses that legally certify their civil union in the state of Vermont. It’s a monumental moment. In 2000, Vermont became the first state to introduce civil unions, which paved the way for it to later (in 2009) become the first state to pass legislation that recognized gay marriages without needing to have a court order mandating that the state extend marriage rights beyond opposite-sex couples. I appreciate that Bly’s creatorsincorporated this significant milestone in the history of American queer rights into the show. But its positioning in the show also fuckin’ sucks. Just as Jamie is announcing the legality of her and Dani’s civil union and declaring that they’ll have another marriage ceremony soon, we see water running into the hallway. This moves us into that scene with the flooded bathtub, as Jamie finds Dani staring into the water, unaware of anything else except the reflection of Viola staring back at her. Thus, it is at the exact moment when her wife proudly shares the news of this incredible achievement in the struggle for queer rights—for which queer folks have long fought and are continuing to fight to protect in the present—that Dani has completely, hopelessly resigned herself to Viola’s possession.

I want to be careful to clarify here that, in making this observation, I don’t mean to posit some sort of “Dani should have fought back against Viola” argument, which—within the context of our allegorical readings—might have the effect of damagingly suggesting that Dani should have fought harder to recover from mental illness or terminal disease. But I do mean to point out the incredibly grim implications that the juxtaposition of these events engenders, especially when we contemplate them (as we did in the previous section) within the overall frameworks of the show’s themes and Dani’s character development. After all that has come before, after we’ve watched Dani come to so boldly assert her queer desire and existence, it is devastating to see the show reduce her to such a despairing state that doesn’t even give her a chance to register that she and Jamie are now legal partners.

Why did you have to do this, Bly? Why?

Further compounding this despair, the next scene features the resumption of Dani’s self-sacrificial beliefs and behaviors, which results in her demise, and which leaves Jamie to suffer through the devastation of her wife’s death. This resumption of self-sacrifice hence demolishes all of that beautiful work of asserting Dani’s queer existence and learning that she doesn’t need to sacrifice herself that I just devoted two thousand words to describing above.

Additionally, in the end, Dani’s noble self-sacrifice also effects a safe recuperation of heteronormativity…which might add more evidence to a Bury Your Gays claim, oops.

And that is because, in the end, after we see Jamie screaming into the water and Dani forever interred at the bottom of the lake in which she drowned herself, we come to the end of Jamie’s story and return to Bly Manor’s frame narrative: Flora’s wedding.

At the start of the show, the evening of Flora and Unnamed Man’s (Wikipedia says his name is James? idk, w/e) rehearsal dinner provides the occasion and impetus for Jamie’s storytelling. Following dinner, Flora, her fiancé, and their guests gather around a fireplace and discuss a ghost story about the venue, a former convent. With a captive audience that includes her primary targets—Flora and Miles, who have forgotten what happened at Bly and, by extension, all that Dani sacrificed and that Jamie lost so that they could live their lives free of the trauma of what transpired—and with a topically relevant conversation already ongoing, Jamie interjects that she has a ghost story of her own to share…and thus, the show’s longer, secondary narrative begins.

When Jamie’s tale winds to a close at the end of the ninth episode, the show returns us to its frame, that scene in front of the cozy, crackling fire. And it is there that we learn that it is, in fact, Jamie who has been telling us this story all along.

As the other guests trickle away, Flora stays behind to talk to Jamie on her own. A critical conversation then ensues between them, which functions not only as Jamie’s shared wisdom to Flora, but also as the show’s attempt to lead viewers through what they’ve just experienced and thereby impart its core message about the secondary narrative. The frame narrative is, thus, also a direct address to the audience that tells us what we should take away from the experience. By this point, the show has thoroughly established that Jamie is a gentle-but-tough-love, knowledgeable, and trustworthy guide through the trials of accepting grief and mortality, and so it is Jamie who leaves Flora and us, the audience, with the show’s final word about how to treasure the people we love while they are still in our lives and how to grieve them if we survive beyond them. (But, by this point in this essay, we’ve also learned that Bly’s messages about grief and mortality are beautiful but also messy and unconvincing, even with this didactic ending moment).

With all of this in mind, we can (and should) ask some additional questions of the frame narrative.

One of those questions is: Why is the secondary narrative being told from/within this particular frame?

Answering this question within the show’s diegesis (by asking it of the narrator) is easy enough. Jamie is performing a memorialization of Dani’s life and sacrifice at an event where her intended audience happens to be gathered, ensuring that Miles and Flora begin to recognize what Dani did for them in a manner that maybe won’t just outright traumatize them.

Okay, sure, yeah. True. Not wrong.

But let’s interrogate this question more deeply—let’s ask it of the show itself. So, Bly Manor: Why is the secondary narrative being told from/within this particular frame?

We could also tweak this question a bit to further consider: What is the purpose of the frame? A frame narrative can function to shape audiences’ interpretations of and attitudes towards the secondary narrative. So, in this case, let’s make our line of questioning even more specific. What does the frame of Flora’s wedding do for Bly’s audiences?

Crucially, the framing scene at the fireplace provides us with a sense that we’ve returned to safety after the horror of the ghost story we’ve just experienced. To further assure us of this safety, then, Bly’s frame aims to restore a sense of normality, a sense that the threat that has provoked fear in us has been neutralized, a sense of hope that endures beyond tragedy. Indeed, as we fade from the secondary narrative and return to the frame, Jamie’s narration emphasizes how Dani’s selfless death has brought peace to Bly Manor by breaking its cycles of violence and trauma: “But she won’t be hollow or empty, and she won’t pull others to her fate. She will merely walk the grounds of Bly, harmless as a dove for all of her days, leaving the only trace of who she once was in the memory of the woman who loved her most.”

What Dani has accomplished with her self-sacrifice, then, is a longstanding, prevailing, expected staple of Western—and especially American—storytelling: redemption.

American media is rife with examples of this narrative formula (in which an individual must take selfless action—which may or may not involve self-sacrificial death—in order to redeem an imperiled community by restoring a threatened order) to an extent that is kind of impossible to overstate. Variations of this formula are everywhere, from film to television to comics to videogames to news reports. It is absolutely fundamental to our cultural understandings of what “heroism” means. And it’s been this way for, umm…a long time, largely thanks to that most foundational figure of Western myth, some guy who was crucified for everybody’s sins or something. (Well, that and the related popularization of Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey, but…I’m not gonna go off onto a whole rant about that right now, this essay is already too long as it is).

In Bly Manor, the threatened order is the natural process of death itself, which Viola has disrupted with a gravity well that traps souls and keeps them suspended within physical proximity of the manor. Dani’s invitation to Viola is the initial step towards salvation (although, I think it’s important to note that this is not entirely intentional on Dani’s part. Jamie’s narration indicates that Dani didn’t entirely understand what she was doing with the “It’s you, it’s me, it’s us” invitation, so self-sacrifice was not necessarily her initial goal). It nullifies the gravity well and resumes the passage of death, which liberates all of the souls that have been trapped at Bly and also produces additional opportunities for others’ atonements (e.g. Peter’s apology to Miles; Henry’s guardianship of the children). But it’s Dani’s suicide that is the ultimate completion of the redemptive task. It is only by “giving herself to the lake” that Dani is able to definitively dispel Viola’s threat and confer redemptive peace to Bly Manor.

It’s tempting to celebrate this incredibly rare instance of a queer woman in the heroic-redemptive role, given that American media overwhelmingly reserve it for straight men. But I want to strongly advise that we resist this temptation. Frankly, there’s a lot about the conventional heroic-redemptive narrative formula that sucks, and I’d rather that we work to advocate for other kinds of narratives, instead of just championing more “diversity” within this stuffy old model of heroism. Explaining what sucks about this formula is beyond the purview of this essay, though. But my next point might help to illustrate part of why it sucks (spoiler: it’s because it tends to prop up traditional, dominant structures of power and relationality).

So…What I want us to do is entertain the possibility that Dani’s redemptive self-sacrifice might serve specific purposes for straight audiences, especially in the return to the frame at the end.

Across The Haunting of Bly Manor, we’ve seen ample examples of heterosexuality gone awry. The show has repeatedly called our attention to the flaws and failings of heterosexual relationships against the carefully cultivated safety, open communication, and mutual fulfillment of a queer romance between two women. But, while queer audiences may celebrate this about this show, for straight audiences, this whole situation might just wind up producing anxiety instead—as though heterosexuality is also a threatened order within the world of Bly Manor. More generally, asking straight audiences to connect with a queer couple as the show’s main protagonists is an unaccustomed challenge with which they’re not normally tasked; thus, the show risks leaving this dominant viewer base uncomfortable, threatened, and resentful, sitting with the looming question of whether heterosexuality is, itself, redeemable.

In answer to this, Dani’s self-sacrifice provides multiple assurances to straight audiences. To begin with, her assumption of the traditional heroic-redemptive role secures audiences within the familiar confines of that narrative formula, which also then promises that Dani is acting as a protector of threatened status quos and not as another source of peril. What Bly Manor is doing here is, in effect, acknowledging that it may have challenged (and even threatened) straight audiences with its centerpiece of a queer romance—and that, likewise, queers themselves may be challenging the status quos of romantic partnerships by, for instance, demanding marriage rights and improvements in media representations—while also emphatically reassuring those audiences in the wake of that challenge that Dani and Jamie haven’t created and aren’t going to create too much disturbance with their queerness. They’re really not that threatening, Bly swears. They’re harmless as a dove. They’re wholesome. They’re respectable. They—and queer folks more generally—aren’t going to totally upend everything, really. Look, they’ll even sacrifice themselves to save everyone and redeem imperiled communities and threatened orders—even heterosexuality itself!

A critical step towards achieving this assurance is the leveling of the playing field. In order for the show to neutralize the threat of queerness for straight audiences, comfort them with a return to safety, and promise them that heterosexuality is redeemable, the queer women need to have an on-screen tragic end to their relationship just like all of the straight couples have. And so, Dani must die and Jamie must grieve.

That accomplished, the show then immediately returns to the frame, the scene at the fireplace following Flora’s rehearsal dinner.

There—after we’ve witnessed so much queer joy and queer tragedy crammed into this final episode—we see Flora and her fiancé, bride and groom, sitting together, arms linked, taking in all that Jamie has to tell them. And with this warm, idyllic image of impending matrimony between man and wife, the safety to which straight audiences return in the frame is, therefore, also the safety of a heterosexuality that can find its redemption through Dani’s self-sacrifice. Not only does Dani’s death mean that Flora can live (and go on to marry her perfectly bland, unremarkable husband, all without the trauma of what happened at Bly), but it also means that she—and, with her, straight audiences—can ultimately benefit from the lessons about true love, loss, and grieving that Dani’s self-sacrifice and Jamie’s story bestow.

And so, Bly Manor concludes with a valorization of redemptive self-sacrifice and an anodyne recuperation of heteronormativity, bequeathing Flora with the opportunities to have and to hold the experiential knowledge that Dani and Jamie have provided for her. Here, queer tragedy serves up an educational opportunity for heterosexual audiences in a challengingly “inclusive,” but otherwise essentially non-threatening manner. The ending is a gentle, non-traumatizing, yet frank lesson to heterosexual audiences in the same way that Jamie’s story is a gentle, non-traumatizing, yet frank lesson to Flora.

Did the show’s creators intentionally do all of this to set about providing such assurances to straight audiences? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t really know—or care! But, especially in light of incidents like the recent “Suletta and Miorine’s relationship is up to interpretation” controversy following the Gundam: Witch from Mercury finale, I absolutely do not put it past media corporations and content creators to very intentionally take steps to prioritize the comfort of straight audiences against the threats of queer love. And anyway, intentional or not, all of this still has effects and implications loaded with meaning, as I have tried to account for here.

Honestly, though, I can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s some tension between Jamie, Owen, and maybe also Henry about Jamie’s decision to publicly share Dani’s story in front of Flora and Miles. Owen’s abrupt declaration that it’s getting late and that they should wrap up seems like an intervention—like he’s been as patient and understanding as he possibly could up to that point, but now, he’s finally having to put a stop to Jamie’s deviance. I can’t help but read the meaningful stares that pass between them at both ends of the frame as a complex mixture of compassion and fraught disagreement (and I wish that the show had done more with this). The scene where Dani and Jamie visit Owen at his restaurant seems to set up the potential for this unspoken dispute. By their expressions and mannerisms (Dani’s stony stare; the protective way that Jamie holds her as her own gaze is locked on Dani), it’s clear that Dani and Jamie are aghast that Flora and Miles have forgotten what happened and that Owen believes that they should just be able to live their lives without that knowledge. And it’s also clear, by her very telling of Dani’s story, that Jamie disagrees with him. Maybe I’m over-imposing my own attitudes here, but I’m left with the impression that Jamie resents the coddling of Miles and Flora just like I’m resenting the coddling of straight audiences…that Jamie resents that she and Dani have had to give up everything so that Miles and Flora can continue living their privileged lives just like I’m resenting the exploitation of queer tragedy for the sake preserving straight innocence. (As Jamie says to Hannah when Dani puts the children to work in the garden: “You can’t give them a pass forever.” Disclaimer: I’m not saying that I want Miles and Flora to be traumatized, but I am saying that I agree with Jamie, because hiding traumatic shit is not how to resolve inter-generational trauma. Anyway—).

Also, I don’t know about y’all, but I find Flora and Jamie’s concluding conversation to be super cringe. Maybe it’s because I’m gay and just have way too much firsthand experience with this sort of thing from my own comphet past, but Flora’s whole “I just keep thinking about that silly, gorgeous, insane man I’m marrying tomorrow. I love him. More than I ever thought I could love anybody. And the crazy thing is, he loves me the same exact amount,” spiel just absolutely screams “woman who is having to do all of the emotional work in her relationship with an absolutely dull, mediocre, emotionally illiterate man and is desperately trying to convince herself that he does, in fact, love her as much as she (believes) that she loves him.”

I feel like this is a parody of straightness?? Is this actually sincere??

This is what Dani gave up her life to redeem??

To me, this is just more bleak shit that Bly leaves us with. It is so painful to watch.

Bless.

Okay, so I know that I said that I wasn’t going to offer a definitive yes or no about whether Bly commits Bury Your Gays with Dani’s death, but…after writing all of this out, I’m honestly kinda leaning towards a yes.

But I’m already anticipating that folks are gonna push back against me on this. So I just want to humbly submit, again, that Bly could have just not done this. It could have just not portrayed Dani’s death at all.

To really drive this point home, then, I’m going to conclude this essay by suggesting just a few ways that The Haunting of Bly Manor could have ended without Dani’s self-sacrificial death—or without depicting her death on-screen at all.

Bly Manor Could Have Ended Differently

Mike Flanagan—creator, director, writer, editor, executive producer, showrunner, etc. of The Haunting of Bly Manor—has stated that he believes that the show’s ending is a happy one.

I, on the other hand, believe that Bly’s ending is…not. In my view, the way that the ending treats Dani is unnecessarily cruel and exploitative. “Happy ending”—really? If I let myself be cynical about it (which I do), I honestly think that Dani’s death is a pretty damn transparent effort to squeeze out some tears with a sloppy, mawkish, feel-good veneer slapped over it. And if we peel back that veneer and look under it, what we find is quite bleak.

To be fair, for a psychological horror show that’s so centrally about grief and trauma, Bly Manor does seem to profess an incredibly strong sense of hopefulness. Underlying the entirety of the show is a profound faith in all the good and beauty that can come from human connection, however fleeting our lives may be—and even if we make a ton of dumb, awful mistakes along the way. If I’m being less cynical about it, I do also think that the show’s ending strives to demonstrate a peak expression of this conviction. But—at least in my opinion—it doesn’t succeed in this goal. In my writing of this essay, I’ve come to believe that the show instead ends in a state of despair that is at odds with what it appears to want to achieve.

So, in this final section, I’m going to offer up a few possibilities for ways that the show could have ended that maybe wouldn’t have so thoroughly undermined its own attempted messages.

Now, if I were actually going to fix the ending of The Haunting of Bly Manor, I would honestly overhaul a ton of the show to arrive at something completely different. But I’m not going to go through all the trouble of rewriting the entire show here, lol. Instead, I’m going to work with most of what’s already there, leading out from Viola’s possession of Dani (even though I don’t actually like that part of the show either – maybe someday I’ll write about other implications of Viola’s possession of Dani beyond these allegorical readings, but not right now). I’m also going to try to adhere to some of the show’s core themes and build on some of the allegorical possibilities that are already in place. Granted, the ideas that I pose here wouldn’t fix everything, by any stretch of the imagination; but they would, at least (I hope), mitigate some of the issues that I’ve outlined over the course of this essay. And one way or another, I hope that they’ll help to demonstrate that Dani’s self-sacrificial death was completely unnecessary. (Seriously, just not including Dani’s death would’ve enabled the show to completely dodge the question of Bury Your Gays and would’ve otherwise gone a long way towards avoiding the problems with the show’s queer representation).

So, here's how this is going to work. First, I’m going to pose a few general, guiding questions before then proposing an overarching thematic modification that expands on an idea that’s already prominent across the show. This will then serve as the groundwork for two alternative scenarios. I’m not going to go super into detail with either of these alternatives; mostly, I just want to demonstrate that the show that could’ve easily replaced the situation leading to Dani drowning herself. (For the record, I also think that the show could’ve benefitted from having at least one additional episode—and from some timing and pacing restructuring otherwise. So, before anybody tries an excuse like “but this wouldn’t fit into the last episode,” I want to urge that we imagine these possibilities beyond that limitation).

Let’s start off by returning to a point that I raised in the earlier conversation about grief and acceptance: the trickiness of Viola’s “acceptance.”

What Viola “accepts” in the end aren’t her losses or her own mortality, but Dani’s desperate, last-ditch-effort invitation to inhabit her. Within the show’s extant ending, Viola never actually comes to any kind of acceptance otherwise. Dani’s suicide effectively forces her dissolution, eradicating her persistent presence through the redemptive power of self-sacrifice. But in all of my viewings of the show and in all of my efforts to think through and write about it, there’s a question that’s been bugging me to no end: Why does Viola accept Dani’s invitation in the first place?

We know that Peter figured out the “it’s you, it’s me, it’s us” trick in his desperation to return to some form of life and to leave the grounds of Bly Manor. But…what is the appeal of it for Viola? How do her own motivations factor into it? For so long, Viola’s soul has been tenaciously persisting at Bly all so that she can repeatedly return to the physical locus of her connection with her husband and daughter, their shared bedroom in the manor. She’s done this for so long that she no longer even remembers why she’s doing it—she just goes back there to grab whatever child she can find and strangles whoever happens to get in her way. So what would compel her to accept Dani’s invitation? What does she get out of it—and what does she want out of it? What does her acceptance mean? And why, then, does her acceptance result in the dissipation of the gravity well?

We can conjecture, certainly. But the show doesn’t actually provide answers to these questions. Indeed, one of the other major criticisms that I have of Bly is that it confines all of Viola’s development to the eighth episode alone. I really think that it needed to have done way more to characterize her threat and at least gestureat her history sooner, rather than leaving it all to that penultimate episode, interrupting and drawing out the exact moment when she’s about to kill Dani. (Like, after centuries of Viola indiscriminately killing people, and with so many ghosts that’ve been loitering around for so long because of that, wouldn’t Bly Manor have rampant ghost stories floating around about it by the time Dani arrives? But there’s only one minor suggestion of that possibility: Henry indicating that he might’ve met a soldier ghost once. That’s it. And on that note, all of the ghosts at the manor needed to have had more screentime and development, really). Further, it’s disappointing that the show devotes that entire eighth episode to accounting for Viola’s motivations, only to then reduce her to Big, Bad, Unspeakable Evil in the final episode, with no rhyme or reason for what she’s doing, all so that she can necessitate Dani’s death.

As we continue pondering these unanswered questions, there’s also another issue that I want to raise, which the show abandons only as an oblique, obscure consideration. And that is: How the hell did Jamie acquire all that extensive knowledge about Viola, the ghosts of the manor, and all that happened, such that she is able to tell Bly’sstory in such rich detail? My own sort of headcanon answer to this is that Viola’s possession of Dani somehow enabled Viola to regain some of her own memories—as well as, perhaps, a more extended, yet also limited awareness of the enduring consciousnesses of the other ghosts—while also, in turn, giving Dani access to them, too. Dani then could have divulged what she learned to Jamie, which would account for how Jamie knows so much. I bring this up because it provides one possible response to the question of “What does Viola get out of her possession of Dani?” (especially given the significant weight that the show places on the retention of one’s memories—more on this in a moment) and because this is an important basis for both of my proposed alternative scenarios.

Before we dig into those alternative scenarios, however, there’s also a thematic modification that I want to suggest, which would help to provide another answer to “What does Viola get out of her possession of Dani?” while also alleviating the issues that lead into the valorization of Dani’s suicide. That thematic modification involves how the show defines love. Although Bly’s sustained contrasts between love and possession have some valuable elements, I think that the ending would’ve benefitted from downplaying the love vs. possession theme (which is where we run into so much trouble with Dani’s self-sacrifice, and which has also resulted in some celebratory conflations between “selflessness” and self-sacrifice that I’ve seen crop up in commentary about the show—but, y’all, self-sacrifice is not something to celebrate in romantic partnerships, so please, please be careful idolizing that) to instead play up a different theme: the idea that love is the experience of feeling such safety and security with another person that we can find opportunities for peace by being with them.

Seeking peace—and people with whom to feel safe enough to share traumas and experience peace—is a theme that already runs rampant across the show, so this modification is really just a matter of accentuating it differently. It’s also closely linked to the moving through grief theme that we’ve already discussed at length, as numerous characters in Bly express desires for solitude with loved ones as a way of finding relief and healing from their pain, grief, and trauma. (And I suspect that I latched onto this because I have desperately wanted peace, calm, and stillness in the midst of my own acute, compounding traumas…and because my own former romantic partner was obviously not someone with whom I felt safe enough to experience the kind of peace that would’ve allowed me to begin the process of healing).

We run into this idea early in the development of Jamie and Dani’s romance, as narrator Jamie explains in the scene leading up to their first kiss, “The au pair was tired. She’d been tired for so long. Yet without even realizing she was doing it, she found herself taking her own advice that she’d given to Miles. She’d chosen someone to keep close to her that she could feel tired around.” Following this moment, at the beginning of Episode 5, narrator Jamie then foregrounds Hannah’s search for peace (“The housekeeper knew, more than most, that deep experience was never peaceful. And because she knew this ever since she’d first called Bly home, she would always find her way back to peace within her daily routine, and it had always worked”), which calls our attention to the ways that Hannah has been retreating into her memory of her first meeting with Owen as a crucial site of peace against the shock of her own death. Grown-up Flora even gushes about “that easy silence you only get with your forever person who loves you as much as you love them” when she’s getting all teary at Jamie about her husband-to-be.

Of course, this theme is already actively at work in the show’s conclusion as well. During her “beast in the jungle” monologue, Dani tells Jamie that she feels Viola “in here. It’s so quiet…it’s so quiet. She’s in here. And this part of her that’s in here, it isn’t…peaceful.” As such, Viola’s whole entire issue is that, after all those centuries, she has not only refused to accept her own death, but she’s likewise never been at peace—she’s still not at peace. Against Viola’s unpeaceful presence, however, Dani does find peace in her life with Jamie…at least temporarily, until Viola’s continued refusal of peace leads to Dani’s self-destructive sense of fatalism. Still, in her replacement of Viola as the new Lady of the Lake, Dani exists as a prevailing force of peace (she’s “harmless as a dove”); however, incidentally, she only accomplishes this through the decidedly non-peaceful, violent act of taking her own life.

But…what if that hadn’t been the case?

What if, instead, the peace that Dani finds in her beautiful, queer, non-self-sacrificing existence with Jamie had also enabled Viola to find some sense of peace of her own? What if, through her inhabitation of Dani, Viola managed to, like…calm the fuck down some? What if Dani’s safety and solitude worked to at least somewhat assuage Viola’s rage—and even guide her towards some other form of acceptance?

Depending on how this developed, the show could’ve borne out the potential for a much more subversive conclusion than what we actually got. Rather than All-Consuming-Evil Viola’s forced dissolution through the violence of Dani’s redemptive self-sacrifice (and its attendant recuperation of heteronormativity), we could’ve instead had the makings of a narrative about sapphic love as a source of healing that’s capable of breaking cycles of violence and trauma. And I think that it would’ve been possible for the show to accomplish this without a purely “happy” ending in which everything was just magically fine, and all the trauma dissipated, and there were no problems in the world ever again. The show could have, in fact, managed this while preserving the allegorical possibilities of Viola’s presence as mental and/or terminal illness.

But, before I can start describing how this could’ve happened, there’s one last little outstanding problem that I need to address. In the video essay that I cited earlier, Rowan Ellis suggests that there are limitations to the “Viola as a stand-in for mental/terminal illness” reading of the show because of the fact that Dani invites Viola into herself and, therefore, willingly brings on her own suffering. But I don’t think that this is quite the case or that it interferes with these allegorical readings. As I’ve already mentioned at various points, Dani doesn’t entirely understand the implications of what she’s doing when she issues her invitation to Viola; and even so, the invitation is still a matter of a dubious consent that evidently cannot be withdrawn once initially granted—at the absolute most generous characterization. Dani’s invitation is a snap decision, a frantic attempt to save Flora after everyone and everything else has failed. Consequently, we don’t necessarily have to construe Viola’s presence in Dani’s life as a matter of Dani “willingly inviting her own suffering,” but can instead understand it as the wounds and traumas that persist after Dani has risked her life to rescue Flora. In this way, the show could have also challenged the traditional heroic-redemptive narrative formula by offering a more explicit commentary on the all-too-often unseen ramifications of selflessly “heroic” actions (instead of just heedlessly perpetuating their glorification and, with them, self-sacrifice). Dani may have saved Flora—but at what cost to herself? What long-term toll might this lasting trauma exact on her?

And with that, we move into my two alternative ending scenarios.

Alternative Ending 1: Progressive Memory Loss

Memory and its loss are such significant themes in Bly Manor that theycould use an essay all their own.

I am, however, going to refrain from writing such an essay at this moment in time (I’m already super tired from writing this one, lol).

Still, the first of my alternative scenarios would bring these major themes full-circle—and would make Jamie eat her words.

In this alternative scenario, Viola would find some sense of peace—even if fraught and, at times, tumultuous—in her possession of Dani. As her rage subsides, she is even able to regain fragmented pieces of her own memory, which Dani is also able to experience. The restoration of Viola’s memory, albeit vague and scattered, leads Dani to try to learn even more about Viola’s history at Bly in an effort to at least partially fill in the gaps. As time goes on, though, Viola’s co-habitation within Dani’s consciousness leads to the steady degradation of Dani’s own memory. The reclamation of Viola’s memories would occur, then, concomitant with a steady erosion of both herself and Dani. Thus, Dani would still undergo an inexorable decline across the show’s ending, but one more explicitly akin to degenerative neurological diseases associated with aging, accentuating the “Viola as terminal illness” allegory while also still carrying resonances of the residual reverberations of trauma (given that memory loss is often a common consequence of acute trauma). Jamie would take on the role of Dani’s caregiver, mirroring and more directly illuminating the role that Owen plays for his mother earlier in the show. By the show’s conclusion, Dani would still be alive, including during the course of the frame narrative.

I mentioned earlier in this essay that I’ve endured even more trauma and grief since my brother’s death and since my breakup with my ex-fiancé. So, I’ll share another piece of it with you now: shortly after my breakup, my dad was diagnosed with one of those degenerative neurological diseases that I listed way back at the very beginning. I moved home not only to get away from my ex, but also to become a caregiver. In the time that I’ve been home, I’ve had no choice but to behold my dad’s continuous, irreversible decline and his indescribable suffering. He has further health issues, including a form of cancer. As a result, he now harbors a sense of fatalism that he’ll never be able to reconcile—he does not have the cognitive capacities to address his despair or turn it into some other form of acceptance. He is merely, in essence, awaiting his death. Hence, fatalism is something that I have had to “accept” as a regular component of my own life. (In light of this situation, you may be wondering if I have thoughts and opinions on medical aid in dying, given all that I have had to say so far about fatalism and suicide. And the answer is yes, I do have thoughts and opinions…but they are complex, and I don’t really want to try to account for them here).

Indeed, I live in a suspended, indefinite state of grieving. Day in and day out, I watch my father perish before my eyes, anticipating the blow of fresh grief that will strike when he dies. I watch my mother’s grief. I watch my father’s grief. He forgets about the symptoms of his disease; he looks up his disease to try to learn about it; he re-discovers his inevitable demise anew; the grieving process restarts again. (“She would wake, she would walk, she would forget […] and she would fade and fade and fade”).

What, then, does acceptance look like when grief is so ongoing and so protracted?

What does acceptance look like in the absence of any possibility of acceptance?

Kübler-Ross’s “five stages of grief” model has been a meaningful guide for countless folks in their efforts to navigate grief and loss. Yet, the model has also been subject to a great deal of critique. Critics have accused the model of, among other things, suggesting that grieving is a linear process, whereby a person moves from one stage to the next and then ends conclusively at acceptance (when grieving is, in fact, an incredibly uneven, nonlinear, and inconclusive process). Relatedly, they have also called attention to the fact that the model commonly gets used prescriptively in ways that usher grieving folks towards the end goal of acceptance and cast judgment on those who do not reach that stage. These are criticisms that I would level at Bly’s application of Kübler-Ross as well. Earlier, we thoroughly covered the show’sissues with grief and acceptance as major themes; but in addition to those issues, Bly alsotends to steer its characters towards abrupt endpoints of acceptance, while doling out punishments to those who “refuse” to accept. At root, there are normative ascriptions at work in the show’s very characterization of deferred acceptance as refusal and acceptance itself as an active choice that one has to make.

This alternative ending, then, would have the potential to challenge and complicate the show’s handling of grief by approaching Jamie’s grieving and Dani’s fatalism from very different angles. As Dani’s caregiver, Jamie would encounter and negotiate grief in ongoing and processual ways, which would continue to evolve as her wife’s condition worsens and her caregiving responsibilities mount, thereby lending new layers of meaning to the message that “To truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them.” Dani’s fatalism here could also serve as a different interpretation of James’s Beast in the Jungle; perhaps her sense of fatalism ebbs and flows, morphs and contorts along with the progression of her memory loss as she anticipates the gradual whittling-away of her selfhood—or even forgets that inevitability entirely. Still a tragic, heart-rending ending to the show, this scenario may not have the dramatic force of Jamie screaming into the waters of the lake, but it would be a relatable depiction of the ways that many real-life romances conclude. (And, having witnessed the extent of my mom’s ongoing caregiving for my dad, lemme tell ya: if y’all really want a portrayal of selflessness in romantic partnerships, I can think of nothing more selfless than caring for one’s terminally ill partner across their gradual death).

Additionally, this scenario could allow the show to maintain the frame narrative, while also packing fresh complexities into it.

Perhaps, in this case, Dani is still alive, but Jamie has come to Flora’s wedding alone, leaving Dani with in-home caregivers or within assisted living or some such. She comes there determined to ensure that Miles and Flora regain at least some awareness of what Dani did for them—that they remember her. The act of telling Dani’s story, then, becomes not only the performance of a mourning ritual, but also a vital way of preserving and perpetuating Dani’s memory where both the children and Dani, herself, can no longer remember. To be sure, such purposes already compel Jamie’s storytelling in the show: Narrator Jamie indicates that the new Lady of the Lake will eventually lose her recollection of the life she had with the gardener, “leaving the only trace of who she once was in the memory of the woman who loved her most.” But in the context of a conclusion so focused on memory loss, this statement would take on new dimensions of import. In this way, the frame narrative might also more forcefully prompt us, the audience, to reflect on the waysthat we can carry on the memories of our loved ones by telling their stories—and also, maybe, the responsibilities that we may have to do so. “Almost no one even remembers how she was when her mind hadn’t gone,” Jamie remarks after returning from Owen’s mother’s funeral, a subtle indictment of just how easily we can lose our own memories of those who suffer from conditions like dementia—how easily we can fail to carry on the stories of the people they were before and to keep their memories alive. (“We are all just stories in the end,” Olivia Crain emphasizes during the eulogy for Shirl’s kitten in The Haunting of Hill House. In fact, there’re some interesting comparative analyses we could do about storytelling and the responsibilities incumbent on storytellers between these two Flanagan shows).

Along those lines, I think that this would’ve been an excellent opportunity for the show to exacerbate and foreground those latent tensions between Jamie and Owen (and maybe also Henry) about whether to share Dani’s story with the now-adult children.

In the show’s explorations of memory loss, there’re already some interesting but largely neglected undercurrents churning around about the idea that maybe losing one’s memory isn’t just a curse or a heartbreaking misfortune (as it is for Viola, the ghosts of Bly Manor, and Owen’s mother), but can, in certain circumstances, be a blessing. Bly implies—via Owen and the frame narrative—that Miles and Flora have been able to flourish in their lives because they have forgotten what happened at Bly and still remain blissfully unaware of it…which, to be clear, is only possible because of the sacrifices that Dani and Jamie have made. But this situation raises, and leaves floating there, a bunch of questions about the responsibilities we have to impart traumatic histories to younger generations—whether interpersonally (e.g. within families) or societally (e.g. in history classrooms). Cycles of trauma don’t end by shielding younger generations from the past; they especially don’t end by forcing impacted, oppressed, traumatized populations (e.g. queer folks) to shoulder the burdens of trauma on their own for the sake of protecting another population’s innocent ignorance. But how do we impart traumatic histories? How do we do so responsibly, compassionately, in ways that respect those harrowing pasts—and those who lived them, those most directly impacted by them—without actively causing harm to receiving audiences? On the other hand, if we over-privilege the innocence of those who have forgotten or those who weren’t directly impacted, what do we lose and what do we risk by not having frank, open conversations about traumatic histories?

As it stands, I think that Bly is remiss in the way it tosses out these issues, but never actually does anything with them. It could have done much, much more. In this alternate ending, then, there could be some productive disagreement among Jamie, Owen, and Henry about whether to tell Flora and Miles, what to tell them, how to tell them. Perhaps, in her seizing of the conversation and her launching of the story in such a public way, Jamie has taken matters into her own hands and has done so in a way that Owen and Henry can’t easily derail. Perhaps Owen sympathizes but does, indeed, abruptly cut her off just before her audience can completely connect the dots. Perhaps Henry is conflicted and doesn’t take a stand—or perhaps he does. Perhaps we find out that Henry had been torn about whether to even invite Jamie because of the possibility of something like this happening. Or, perhaps Henry wants the children to know and believes that they should hear Dani’s story from Jamie. Perhaps we see scenes of past quarrels between Jamie and Owen, Owen and Henry. Perhaps, once the story has ended, we see a brief aftermath conversation between Owen and Jamie about what Jamie has done, their speculations about how it may impact Miles and Flora. Perhaps the show presents these conversations in ways that challenge us to reflect on them, even if it does not provide conclusive answers to the questions it raises, and even if it leaves these conflicts open-ended, largely unresolved.

Alternative Ending 2: Living with the Trauma

If Bly’s creators had wanted Viola’s inhabitation of Dani to represent the ongoing struggles of living—and loving someone—with severe mental illness and trauma, they could have also just…done that? Like, they could have just portrayed Jamie and Dani living their lives together and dealing with Viola along the way. They could have just let that be it. It wouldn’t have been necessary to include Dani’s death within the show’s depicted timeline at all.

The show could’ve more closely aligned its treatment of Dani’s fatalism with James’s Beast in the Jungle—but with, perhaps, a bit more of a hopeful spin. Perhaps, early on, Dani is convinced that her demise is imminent and incontrovertible, much as we already see in the final episode’s diner scene. For a while, this outlook continues to dominate her existence in ways that interfere with her daily functioning and her relationship with Jamie. Perhaps there’s an equivalent of the flooded bathtub scene, but it happens much earlier in the progression of their partnership: Dani despairs, and Jamie is there to reinforce her commitment to staying with Dani through it all, much like her extant “If you can’t feel anything, then I’ll feel everything for the both of us” remarks. But maybe, as a result of this, Dani comes to a realization much like The Beast in the Jungle’s John Marcher—but one that enables her to act on her newfound understanding, an opportunity that Marcher never finds before it’s too late. Maybe she realizes that her fatalism has been causing her to miss out on really, truly embracing the life that she and Jamie have been forging together, thus echoing the show’s earlier points about how unresolved trauma can impede our cultivation of meaningful relationships. Maybe she realizes that her life with Jamie has been passing her by while she’s remained so convinced that Viola will claim that life at any moment. Maybe she comes to understand that her perpetual sense of dread has been hurting Jamie—that Jamie needs her in the same ways that she needs Jamie, but that Dani’s ever-present sense of doom has been preventing her from providing for those needs. And maybe this leads to a re-framing of the “you, me, us,” conceit, with a scene in which Dani acknowledges the extent to which her fatalism has been dictating their lives; in light of this acknowledgement, she and Jamie resolve—together—to continue supporting each other as they navigate Viola’s lasting influences on their lives.

By making this suggestion, I once again do not want to seem like I’m advocating that “Dani should fight back against Viola” (or, in other words, that “Dani should fight harder to win the battle against her mental illness”). But I do want to direct us back to a point that I raised at the very beginning: grieving, traumatized, and mentally ill folks can, indeed, cause harm to our loved ones. Our grief, trauma, and mental illness don’t excuse that fact. But what that means is that we have to take responsibility for our harmful actions. What it absolutely does not mean is that our harms are inevitable or that our loved ones would be better off without us.It means recognizing that we still matter and have value to others, despite the narratives we craft to try to convince ourselves otherwise. It means acknowledging the wounds that fatalistic, “everybody is better without me” assumptions can inflict. It means identifying the ways that we can support and care for our loved ones, even through our own struggles with our mental health.

“Fighting harder to win the battle against mental illness” is a callous and downright incorrect framing of the matter; but there are, nevertheless, intentional steps that we must take to heal from trauma, to receive treatment for our mental illnesses, to care for ourselves, to care for our loved ones. For instance…the very process of writing this essay incited me to do a lot of reflecting on the self-defeating narratives that I have been telling myself about my mental health and my relationships with others. And that, in turn, incited me to do some course-correcting. I thought about how much I want to work towards healing, however convoluted and intricate that process may be. I thought about how I want to support my family. How I want to foster a robust social support network, such that I feel a genuine sense of community. How I want to be an attentive friend. How, someday, if I’m fortunate enough to have a girlfriend, I want to be a caring, present, and equal partner to her; I want to emotionally nourish her through life’s trials and turmoil, not just expect her to provide that emotional nourishment for me. I started writing this essay in August; and since then, because of it, I’ve held myself accountable by reaching out to friends, spending time with them, trying to support them. I’ve also managed to get myself, finally, to start therapy. And my therapist is already helping me address those self-defeating narratives that have led me to believe that I’m just a burden on my friends. So, y’know, I’m workin’ on it.

But it ain’t pretty. And it also ain’t a linear upward trajectory of consistent improvement. It’s messy. Sometimes, frankly, it’s real ugly.

It could be for Dani, too.

Even with her decision to accept the certainties and uncertainties of Viola’s intrusive presence in her life, to live her life as best she can in the face of it all, perhaps Dani still struggles from day to day. Perhaps some days are better than others. Perhaps Viola, as I suggested earlier, begins finding some modicum of peace through her possession of Dani; nonetheless, her rage and disquiet never entirely subside, and they still periodically overtake Dani. Perhaps Dani improves, only to then backslide, only to then find ways to stabilize once again. In this way, the show could’ve more precisely portrayed the muddled, tumultuous lastingness of grief and trauma throughout a lifetime—without concluding that struggle with a valorized suicide.

Such portrayals are not unprecedented in horror. As I contemplated this ending possibility, I couldn’t help but think of The Babadook (2014), another piece of horror media whose monster carries allegorical import as a representation of the endurance and obtrusion of unresolved trauma. The titular monster doesn’t disappear at the film’s end; Sam emphasizes, in fact, that “you can’t get rid of the Babadook.” And so, even after Amelia has confronted the Babadook and locked him in the basement of the family’s home, he continues to lurk there, still aggressive and threatening to overcome her, but able to be pacified with a bowlful of worms. Like loss and trauma, the Babadook can never be totally ignored or dispelled, only assuaged with necessary, recurrent attention and feedings.

Bly could have easily done something similar with Viola. Perhaps, in the same way that Amelia has to regularly provide the Babadook with an offering of worms, Dani must also “feed” Viola to soothe her rage. What might those feedings look like? What might they consist of? Perhaps Viola draws Dani back to Bly Manor, insisting on revisiting those same sites that have held implacable sway over her for centuries. Perhaps these visits are what permit Dani to gradually learn about Viola: who she was, what she has become, why she has tarried between life and death for so long. Perhaps Dani also learns that these “feedings” agitate Viola for a while, stirring her into fresh furor—but that, in their wake, Viola also settles more deeply and for longer periods. Perhaps they necessitate that Dani and Jamie both directly confront their own traumas, bring them to the surface, attend to them. Perhaps, together, they learn how to navigate their traumas in productive, mutually supportive ways. Perhaps this is also what quiets Viola over time, even if Dani is never quite sure whether Viola will return to claim her life.

You may be wondering, then, about what happens with the frame narrative in this scenario. If Dani doesn’t meet some tragic demise, what happens to the role and significance of grieving in the act of Jamie’s storytelling? Would Jamie’s storytelling even occur? Wouldn’t Dani just be at Flora’s wedding, too? Would we miss the emotional gut-punch of the reveal of the narrator’s identity at the end?

Perhaps, in this case, the ending removes some of the weight off of the grief theme to instead foreground those troubled deliberations about how to impart traumatic histories (as we covered in the previous scenario). As such, the frame could feature those conflicts between Jamie (and Dani here too this time), Owen, and Henry concerning whether or not to tell Dani’s story to Miles and Flora. Perhaps Dani decides not to attend the wedding, wary of contributing to this conflict at the scene of what should be a joyous occasion for Flora; perhaps she feels like she can’t even face the children. And then, without Dani there, perhaps an overwrought Jamie jumps into the story when the opportunity presents itself—whether impulsively or premeditatedly.

Or…Perhaps the show could’ve just scrapped the frame at Flora’s wedding and could’ve done something else instead. What might that be? I have no idea! Sky’s the limit.

At any rate, even with these changes, it would’ve still been possible to have the show conclude in a sentimental, tear-jerking way (which seems to be Flanagan’s preference). Perhaps Jamie’s storytelling does spark the return of the children’s memories. Perhaps, as they begin to remember, they reach out to Dani and Jamie, wanting to connect with them, wanting especially to see Dani again. And then, perhaps, the show could’ve ended with a scene of Miles and Flora finally reuniting with Dani—emotional, sweet, and memorable, no valorized suicide or exploitation of queer tragedy needed.

Conclusion

In my writing of this essay—and over the course of the Bly Manor and Hill House rewatches that it inspired—I’ve been finding myself also doing a great deal of reflection about the possibilities and purposes of horror media. I’ve been thinking, in particular, about the potential for the horror genre to provide contained settings in which we can face and explore our deepest fears and traumas in (relatively) safe, controlled ways. Honestly, I think that this is part of why I enjoy Flanagan’s work so much (even if it also enrages me at the same time). If you’ve read this far, you’ll have seen just how profoundly I relate to so much of the subject matter of The Haunting of Bly Manor. It has been extremely meaningful and valuable for me to encounter the show’s depictions of topics like familial trauma, grief, loss, compulsory heterosexuality, caregiving for aging parents, so on, all of which bear so heavily on my own existence. Bly Manor produced opportunities for me to excavate and dig deeply into the worst experiences of and feelings about my life: to look at them, understand them, and give voice to them, when I’m otherwise inclined to bury them into inconspicuous docility.

Even so, the show does not handle these relatable topics as well as it could have. Flanagan and the many contributors to this horror anthology can’t just preach at us about the responsibilities of storytellers; they, too, have responsibilities as storytellers in the communication of these delicate, sensitive, weighty human experiences. And so, to reinforce a point that I made earlier, this is why I’ve written this extensive critique. It’s not because I revile the show and want to condemn it—it’s because I cherish Bly Manor immensely. It’s because I wanted more out of it. It’s because I want to hold it and its creators accountable. It’s because I want folks to think more critically about it (especially after how close I came to unreflectively accepting its messages in my own initial reception of it).

Television usually doesn’t get me this way. It’s been a long time since I was this emotionally attached to a show. So this essay has been my attempt to honor Bly with a careful, meticulous treatment. I appreciate all of the reflection and self-work that it has inspired me to undertake. I’ve wanted to pay my respects in the best way I know how: with close, thorough analysis.

If you’ve read all this mess, thanks for taking the time to do so. I hope that you’ve been able to get something out of it, too.

Representation matters, y’all.

The end.

#the haunting of bly manor #bly manor #thobm #dani clayton #jamie taylor #dani x jamie #damie #sapphic romance #lesbian romance #mental health #compulsory heterosexuality #queer representation #not a fix-it fic but a fix-it essay

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dxwnstxr · 1 year

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Do you take request? If not then feel free to ignore this little thing hier

Chuuya X reader

Chuuya and reader are training like they do every day. But then chuuya made the mistake of taking Reader in a stranglehold, witch resolved in reader having a panic Atack.

I just had this situation just a couple hours ago and you block helpt me come down. Thx

Calming down with you

Fandom: Bungou stray dogs

Characters: Chuuya x y/n (reader)

Warnings: panic attacks, mentions of ptsd.

A/n: I'm happy i could help, but I'm sorry that happened to you T-T. Hopefully, this can help comfort you in a way if I do it right. If it's alright, I'll be writing this in the readers/your pov (first person). I did make a few changes but only with the chokehold part^^.

Getting off of the phone I let out a sigh. I had just gotten a call from my landlord saying I was late on rent again. I've been struggling to pay my bills of lately due to the fact I'm paying back my family for previous problems. Not to mention, just yesterday someone broke in and shattered my windows and broke the handle on my front door. Leading to more bills.

I felt like screaming but I didn't, know that doing so wouldn't solve anything. I put my phone into my back pocket and walked out of my office and into the training room. Everyday around noon Chuuya and I spar as a way of training.

Stepping foot into the room I saw Chuuya sitting on the bench, swiping on his phone. After hearing my steps he looked up and shut his phone off.

"You're late." He sighed.

"I know I'm sorry" I apologized and looked to the ground.

I could feel his gaze on me and I tensed.

"It's fine just don't be late again." He sternly replied.

I looked up and nodded. "Yes sir!"

He smiled a little and nodded his head to the sparing mat. I sprinted over to the mat and got in position as he did the same. During every sparing match me made a deal not to use our abilities and just our physical strength.

On the count of three chuuya shouted "go!" And he leaded to me. I dodge him and went for a under kick which he decided to jump over. Chuuya was always known for having strong leg power so whenever we spared he made sure to focus on using his upper body strength instead of his lower. And for me, my lower body strength.

He went in for a punch and I dodged it, grabbed his arm, and flipped him over my shoulder and onto the foam mat. He groaned and shakily got up.

"Damn, nice one" He grunted. I just chuckled in return and waited for him to attack.

Chuuya composed himself and positioned himself. I decided to go in for the attack this time. I saw his stomach was open so I went in for the punch. He caught my fist and I kicked him in the side. Then, letting go of me and he groaned.

Catching me off guard he went for a upper cut to my jaw but I moved out of the way. Not giving me anytime time to process his movement, he wrapped his arm around my neck and tighten it, putting me in a choke-hold. I gasped and both my hands reach for his arm.

I tapped his arm but he didn't let go. Feeling the tightness around my neck kicked in my ptsd. I tried kicking but I couldn't. A tear slipped down my cheek, the wetness hitting his amr made him loosen up and he let go. I fell to the floor and my hand went to my neck as I start to hyperventilate.

My hands started to shake as my mind raced. I couldn't focus on anything so my eyes stayed focused onto the floor mat. Little coughs came out as my breathing went haywire. Chuuya bent down in concern and kneeled infront of me.

"Hey you okay?" He asked trying see my face, as it was coverd by my hair.

I looked up at him and tried to talk but I couldn't. Nothing came out. It was like I was reaching out for something that wasn't there. His eyes widened at my actions and appearance. He tried to put his hand on my cheek and I flinch.

He stopped his hand and brought it back to him. No matter how much I tried to calm down, i couldn't. I couldn't focus on anything. I shakily reached my hand out for chuuya and he quickly enveloped me in a hug. Wrapping his arms around me I instantly took in his scent. I could feel the worry radiating off of him. He sat back a sit and let me sit in between his legs.

He stroked my hair and rubbed my back, whispering calming words into my ear.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm right here" He soothed.

My hand cringed onto his shirt and I gripped it. I practically melted into his touch as my body leaned into his. To my surprise I was able to focus now and calm my self down. Though it was hard I struggled to do it. He hugged me tighter and tried his best to calm me down.

I stopped hyperventilating and my breathing slowed. My hands were still shaking but I was able to focus and see properly.

I slowly wrapped my arms around his torso and he gently pulled back a little to see my face. He carefully brought his hand up to my cheek and wiped away some of my tears. I leaned into his hand and he tensed for a second just to relax again.

"You alright" he practically whispered. I nodded in response. Still to afraid to talk I didn't say a word. And I think he noticed that to.

He both just stay like that. He continued to study my features, trying to look for anything he should be worried about. Though his eyes ended up meeting mine and he just smiled. He brought my head forward and place my forehead against his. I quietly heard his say he's canceling training for today. Then he whispered one more thing.

"Let's just stay like this for a while longer..."

#xreader #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs #chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuyabsd #bungo stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya scenarios #chuuya fluff #chuuya headcanons #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x male reader #chuuya x you #angst #request #bungo sd #x y/n #x you

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jaybirdss · 1 year

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Hey there✨ I was wondering if ud be willing to write headcanons for the ninja with an s/o that often gets overwhelmed with crowds n generally is socially anxious? I understand tho if that's something u are not be comfortable with

Either way I wish you all a wonderful day✨

(and thank you sm for creating this blog, it's a pleasure to read ur guys' writing📖)

content warning, anxiety and panic attacks

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG. I just speed ran it and i'm pretty happy with how this came out. I know these aren't headcanons, I started doing this and...didn't want to change it tbh. I hope you enjoy this anyway, thank you so much for requesting. gender neutral :) !!-Ro🛼

Having known you for so long, the ninja were aware of your social anxiety, and have always tried to the best of their ability to avoid situations that were overwhelming with large crowds and loud noises. They switch up their routines to make you more comfortable such as going to the supermarket at a later hour so there would be less people, or calling in an order and going in to get it for you. They always do so without complaint, insisting it's not a big deal and that you're worth it. Of course, however, they can't always deviate from the plan, and sometimes there's no other way around than through a large, loud crowd of people.

COLE

Cole was no stranger to your rough mornings, the ones where you feared to leave the house, to get up and start your day paralyzed by the possibility of not being as productive as possible. On most days like these he could get you up with the promise of your favorite breakfast and helping you in whatever endeavor that was stressing you out. Today however, was one of the days where no matter what was said it felt hopeless. Cole sat by you, looking over you while you stared into space. "If you get up, you'll feel better" he reminded you, though it went in one ear and out the other. The only recognition you gave him that you heard him was a brief glance in his direction. Cole stared at you for a moment, trying to figure out how to help you get out of bed. A big dramatic sigh caught your attention, "I guess I have no choice then..." was all the warning you got before Cole flopped on top of you. You yelped, trying to pull yourself out from under him. "Time to bring out the tickle monster!" he yelled, sitting on top of you and digging into your sides. Without wanting to, you laugh and jerk around, fighting with him trying to push him off. You can't help rolling around and squealing and smiling so big your cheeks start to hurt. "Cole- st- stop!" you yell, grabbing at him. "Will you get out of bed?" he asks over your yelps and giggles. "Yes ! Yes I'll get up!" and immediately his fingers stop digging into your soft sides, opting instead to brush hair out of your face, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. You catch your breath slowly, your eyes creasing with your smile. "Come on, what do you want for breakfast?"

----

NYA

Nya smiled, taking your hand in hers gently. "I'll be there the whole time, promise". As comforting as her voice was, looking from her eyes to the looming general store sign made your gut swell with anxiety all over again. You weren’t too prepared to go out today, it wasn’t set in your plans and Nya presented this so suddenly. It wasn’t her fault, of course. But the fault of the lack of eggs in the fridge needed for tonight’s dinner. You chewed your lip and looked at your feet. We’re you even presentable? You shifted your feet, covered by slippers, your fingers pinching at the large hoodie that framed you baggily, my god, was that a stain?-. "This is all we have to do today, in and out, then we can go home and watch movies all day." Nya reminded you, bringing you out of your little daze, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. The stress of making a decision on if you would go in the store or not only made you more anxious. You didn't want to disappoint her by not going in, but you didn't want to go in with her and be a burden. It was nothing new for Nya, a chance of being recognized, recognized would mean excess people. Between the pressure of making a choice and then having to live with that choice felt like life or death. Though of course it wasn't, and Nya tried to remind you of that, it just felt so intense. And now people were starting to stare, as you'd been stood in front of the store for a few minutes. After taking a deep breath, you took a long stride forward. Nya smiled encouragingly, though you couldn't see it with your head down…

Back in the car, Nya asked if she could hug you, aware you might be overstimulated. "I'm so proud of you! You did really well"

----

KAI

Kai pushed through the thick crowd of people, one hand paving way for the two of you and the other holding yours tightly. It wasn't long before the two of you broke free, finding refuge on an empty side street. Whether or not it was empty wasn't something you noticed until Kai appeared in your direct line of vision. Panicked breaths drew in and out rapidly while you looked around. You weren't sure where you were, but it was apparent you were away from the crowd. You could still hear them but they sounded distant. Further inspection revealed it was just you and Kai some ways into a side street. Realizing you were alone, your thoughts started to clear up, the fog fading with the panic. You felt tears forming, a familiar stinging in your eyes. You welcomed them, thinking faintly that it's good to feel your emotions. Kai stood watching, waiting for you to ask if you needing something, or maybe needed a hug. He wasn't sure if he should touch you without asking, so he waited patiently in front of you. Your eyes closed and you reached forward, both of your hands gripping onto the front of his zip up jacket. The fabric offering a different feeling to focus on. Your hands ran up and down the fabric, feeling the cool metal of the zipper. A deep breath in, a deep breath out. You repeated these actions until you felt your heart settle and your mind empty. When you opened your eyes, Kai was right in front of you. He offered a small smile. "Can we go home?" you ask, a small smile cracking. Even though Kai had seen you through some of your worst, it was still a little embarrassing to let him see you so upset. He then smiled with you, with a soft loving glance he returned your soft tone. "Yeah, do you wanna order take out or something?"

----

JAY

Jay knocked on your bedroom door with his knuckles, hearing a grunt from the otherside. His brows furrowed, and he called your name. "I'm coming in okay?" he received another grunt. jay wasn't sure what he was expecting when he opened your door, but it definitely wasn't all your belongings to be all over the floor and bed. Nestled between clothes and books and trash was you, curled up in your bed staring at the wall. Jay closed the door, and made his way over to you stepping carefully between the mess. When he crouched to eye level he found your eyes glossed over with tears, and when you looked from the wall to him they leaked over and fell down your cheeks. Immediately Jay leaned forward, wiping your tears. This only made things worse. You started to sob violently, sitting up and clinging to Jay. He held you close, trying to thinking of what he could do for you. He settled on just holding you, rubbing your back and helping you regulate your breathing when you started to hiccup. Eventually, you calmed down enough to tell him what happened. "I just..I wanted to clean my room and I started and, and now I'm so overwhelmed I don't nuh-know what to do" you wailed, clinging to his shirt. Jay frowned. He'd gone though this very same thing many times, getting ahead of himself and then realizing he bit off more than he could chew. It was a stressful thing, looking around at all this mess and thinking you had to clean it up. "It's okay, I'll help you" he said finally. You pulled back sniffling "You don't have to do that Jay" he smiled, wiping a stray tear. "I know I don't have to, but I want to" Jay pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his hand, drying the rest of your face. "We'll do it in sections, tomorrow. You can sleep with me until your bed is sorted out"

----

ZANE

You frowned, rifling through your closet looking for the shoes you planned your outfit with. You went through your whole closet twice but still couldn't find them. At this rate you would be late before you found them. You stomped out of the closet feeling that familiar warmth in your cheeks and the stinging of fresh tears. You sat down on your bed with a huff, one of your legs bouncing up and down. Zane walked in to ask if you were ready to go, stopping when he could see you were visibly upset. "Is something wrong?" he asked, walking closer. "Yes!" you exclaimed, letting your emotions leak into your voice. You winced. "Sorry, I just.." You paused, steadying your breathing before continuing. Zane sat next to you, a hand resting on your knee. "I planned my outfit with the shoes I can't find and I don't want to wear other shoes because they won't look as good and i don't have time to plan another outfit! But we'll be late at this point, and we can't be late" you rambled, finishing looking hopelessly at the floor. Zane hummed, "Well, what do the shoes look like?" After explaining the shoes to him, he stood up, pulling you with him. "Two people searching is faster than one" he smiled. After splitting up and looking in the living room and bathroom, and then under your bed the shoes were found. By the time the two of you found the shoes, your mood had improved. Zane made searching for the shoes less stressful with his positive remarks and playful attitude. He carried you to the car, saying if you wanted to be on time that you would have to put your shoes on in the car, though he later admitted to wanting to carry you. In the end you made it with just a few minutes to spare.

#lego ninjago x reader #zane julien x reader #kai smith x reader #nya smith x reader #jay walker x reader #cole brookstone x reader #gender neutral reader #ro🛼#gn reader #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago x reader #writing #cole brookstone #nya smith #kai smith #zane julien

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specialinterestshows · 1 month

Text

React to an unpleasant surprise in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

(We’re finally getting to the series of chapters I have been WAITING to write 🖤)

Warnings for this section: Anxiety, cannabis (weed), parasocial media, social anxiety, panic attack, hyperventilation, fainting

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 71 of ?): News To Me

Once you had awoken again at a more decent hour, anxiety was the first thing you felt and you had no memory of anything you might have dreamt last night. Every time you tried to chase after a familiar flash, it disappeared. Opening your eyes, you decided to take a look around the dimly-lit room instead, propping yourself up on your elbow.

Dom was clinging to Rhea now, the latter looking far more comfortable than you had been in that same position. Both of them seemed so peaceful sleeping in each other’s arms that it felt wrong to hold your stress so close to them. You made sure to be quiet and careful as you crept out of bed toward your things.

After silently changing into your extra set of clothes using only the small sliver of light streaming in from the mostly-drawn curtains, you popped into the bathroom. Making sure to leave the door cracked an inch, you turned on the light and vent before igniting a fresh joint.

You watched the smoke trail up with the flow of the air after puffing on it a few times, holding in a sizable hit. Puckering your lips, you aim your exhale at the vent, already slightly calmer now that you had something to focus on.

The second hit made you cough a bit, but it was a few seconds before you could grab a towel to muffle it. After you regained some control over the muscles in your throat, you began drinking directly from the sink to soothe your throat - which is the exact position a sleepy-looking Rhea and Dom found you in. Immediately, you shut off the faucet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” you apologized, relaxing again when a nonchalant hand was waved at you. They seemed genuinely unbothered, Dominik rubbing his eyes and Rhea stretching as she yawned.

“Want some?” you asked both of them.

As intrigued as he seemed by the offer, Dom still looked to Rhea for an answer - or, perhaps, for permission.

“Hmm… why not,” she decided, giving you both a smile, “Finn’s friend JD is still trying to get in with the Judgment Day; we can have him drive us all to the next location if it comes down to it.”

Rhea leaned against the counter next to you while Dom sat down on the edge of the tub. The three of you passed the joint around, your girlfriend occasionally asking for a shotgun instead. Dominik finally built up the courage to ask for a shotgun from you on his last hit, pulling away to cough out the smoke.

“I think I have the munchies,” Dom groaned once he caught his breath - only a second before his stomach made a displeased, empty rumble in agreement.

“You still have some leftover chicken in the fridge. As for my girl and I… breakfast downstairs is still going for another hour,” Rhea said, grabbing Dom’s phone to check the time, “But I don’t want to deal with being swarmed by fans if I’m recognized.”

“I’ll grab us some breakfast!” you offer, rising to your feet, “It’s not like anyone will recognize me from anything.”

“You sure?” Dom asked, smiling when you nodded.

“Thanks, love,” Rhea said, pulling you close for a kiss before letting you go and gesturing around the corner, “Room key is on the desk.”

“Got it,” you nodded, grabbing the key card before ducking out into the hall.

Once you reached the lobby, the elevator doors opened, inviting in the delicious smells of a continental breakfast. You made a beeline for its source. Walking up, you grabbed a tray and two sets of utensils, falling into the self-service breakfast line with the other hungry hotel guests.

Once you had put everything together, you glanced at the newsstand near the end of the buffet and something caught your eye: a tabloid. Usually, you weren’t one to read such things, but what drew your attention to it made you do a double take.

“WOMEN’S CHAMP FINDS BELT BUNNY?“ the front page shouted; the less urgent text below it read “Ripley confirms open relationship, bisexuality.” Next to the headline was a photo of Rhea kissing you in the car as you picked her up from the show last night.

A smaller photo accompanied yours: a still from her interview that you didn’t recognize, where she seemed to be caressing a smitten-looking Cathy Kelley’s face. Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped watching that video so soon - but that was the least of your worries right now.

The lobby was suddenly too warm, too crowded, too well-lit. How many people had already seen it? Just the thought of what must be happening on social media right now made you feel sick to your stomach.

Your breathing started to speed up as you scurried back to the elevator, trying to keep the food securely on your tray while also avoiding every pair of eyes you passed. Punching the button with the “up” arrow, you immediately heard the chime that told you the elevator was already on the ground floor. The moment the doors slid all the way open, you dove inside and ran your thumb into your floor number.

Doors closed.

First floor…

Second floor…

The elevator felt slower and slower as your breaths became quick and shallow. The plates that sat on your tray began to rattle slightly as you trembled.

It was all you could do to keep anything from spilling as you finally, shakily stepped out in the direction of your shared room. Realizing you need a free hand to unlock the door - or even knock - you set the food down on a small table in the hallway.

All you could hear was your panicked breathing in the empty stillness of the hall as you grew dizzier, pulling the key card out of your pocket. It dropped to the floor despite you clumsily trying to catch it. Spots clouding your vision, you stumble slightly before allowing yourself to collapse.

[end part seventy-one of ?]

Part 72: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/749502059540250624/absolute-smokeshow-part-72-of-another-bump-in

Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister

#wwe fanfiction #the judgment day #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #jd mcdonagh #weed #panic attack #the judgement day #specialinterestshows presents #absolute smokeshow

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h4rring1on · 2 years

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Hiii I absolutely LOVEEE ur writing. Idk if I already sent you this request and I'm sorry if I diddd.

I was wondering if you could write a steddie x reader fic where Steve and the reader go with Eddie to a deal and the buyer is rly creepy with the reader and triggers a panic attack and the boys comfort her?

pairing: steddie x reader

warnings: obvi reader is uncomfortable and a little scared, buyer is hella creepy and really pissing eddie and steve off, swearing, panic attack, the boys being sweethearts

“please eddie!” you begged

“no!” eddie denied

you and steve have been begging eddie for the past 15 minutes to let him take you two with him while he’s dealing, you both wanted to see how he does it

you even made an unfunny joke saying you wanted to learn so you could do it do

yeah that didn’t really end that well

“come on, ed. do it for the girl! don’t you see her innocent eyes?” steve said

eddie looked to you, to see you looking at him, desperation in your eyes

“nevermind” you sighed, “let’s go steve” you sadly said, holding steve’s hand and walking away

“wait” eddie groaned

you and steve secretly smiled to yourselves

and now here you were, sitting on the bench with steve and eddie, waiting for the buyer

“this is so boring” you sighed

“does usually take this long?” steve asked

“honestly—no, don’t know what’s up with this guy. he’s been acting sketchy ever since we made the deal to meet here”

suddenly, the heard rustling from the trees

“hey—whoa whoa man!” the guy said, suddenly freaking out, “those cops??”

you and steve looked at each other with a small smile

“oh nah nah, they’re with me. you got the money?” eddie said as he stood up

“yeah” he said, you stood up too and stood nearby the man

the money suddenly fell to your feet

“sorry, dropped it” the man said with a creepy smile, he kneeled down to get it, and your eyes widened when you saw him looking up your skirt

you quickly moved away instead of telling them, so they don’t worry and make a big deal about it

steve noticed you acting off, he knew something was wrong

“got a lot of money, can i buy you too?” he whispered

you looked away, pretending not to hear

“oh i get it, you’re the slut kind” he said, “the one you rent by the hour” he grabbed your butt, making you gasp and move away

oh they definitely saw this one.

“what the fuck man!” eddie yelled pushing the guy away

your heart was racing, you breathing fast, you weren’t even aware of your surroundings.

“hey hey, whoa, baby” steve said, “breath for me, it’s alright, we’re here sweet thing, take some deep breaths for me” steve guided you, distracting you from the fact that eddie was beating the shit out of that guy

“that’s good, good job. tell me, what do you see, love?” steve asked

“i see…y-you, and the um—the trees, a-and the bench” you said, trying to calm down

“good job, baby! that’s great, you’re doing great.” he smiled at you, “why don’t you tell me what you can feel?”

your breaths were suddenly louder, and tears slipped from your eyes, “hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. just take a deep breath and talk to me, babe”

you took some deep breaths, as you were doing that, eddie suddenly appeared in your view, his hands bloody

your breathing was back to the way it was before, “eddie? wh—your hands—“

“don’t mind my hands, doll. cmon, tell us what you feel, we’re right here, i promise you” eddie sajd

you nodded and tried to calm your breathing a bit, “i feel—y-you and stevie’s hands and um—i feel the j-jacket im wearing and—and…i’m sorry” you sobbed, “i’m sorry—i don’t know”

“hey, sweetheart, look at me” eddie said, “it’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay”

you slowly nodded, steve pulled your close, hugging you tight, he knew when your panic attacks happen, you usually like the comfort of being in someone’s arms

“it’s alright, babydoll” eddie kissed your head

you were slowly calming down, with steve stroking your hair, with eddie talking to you, with them both comforting you

“we’ll always protect you, baby” steve said

“always” eddie agreed

#stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie my love <3 #steve harrington x reader #steddie #steddie x reader #steve x reader x eddie #eddie x reader x steve

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topguncortez · 10 months

Text

WELCOME TO G’S WHUMPTOBER 2023 CHALLENGE:)

➢It’s that time of year again!!! This year I am taking part in @/ailesswhumptober and I can’t be more excited!

MY RULES:

One topic/day will be assigned to one character for that day (i.e Jake gets Day 1, Rooster Day 2, Floydsin Day 3). I will not be doing more than one character a day.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS. As these topics all fall under the WHUMP category, there will be heavy content written and shared. Fics will be tagged accordingly, but no minors are permitted to interact. If I find you are a minor interacting, you will be blocked immediately.

During this time I will not be posting any other fics/blurbs/one-shots or taking requests, primarily because I’ll be writing a lot and posting a lot and I don’t need that added stress.

HOW TO REQUEST:

As I said before, one character will be used a day. Therefore, whatever day and character come in first will be assigned.

Example: “Jake, Day 27 pls!”

-Jake will be used as the main character on Day 27.

Example: Rooster Day 18!

Iceman day 18!

-Rooster will be used as the main character on Day 18 because the request came in first.

You can request what prompt you would like

My normal requesting rules still stand: if you are a blank blog, a minor, a character I don’t write for, or exceed the two-three sentence limit, your request will not be fulfilled

I will update the calendar/character list on SUNDAYS, so you know what days are left.

ALL REQUESTS MUST BE DONE BY: FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 22nd (exceptions maybe made if days aren’t all filled)

THE WHUMPTOBER CALENDAR: (the days are in bold)

1 | PICK YOUR POISON

Drugging | Sick | Poisoned

2 | SLEEP WHEN YOU’RE DEAD

Overworked | Insomnia | Exhaustion

3 | LET YOUR SENSES GUIDE YOU

Sensory Deprivation | Overstimulation | Isolation

4 | THE SECRETS THAT YOU KEEP

Hiding an injury | betrayal | lying

5 | HELD AGAINST YOUR WILL

Hostage | Kidnapping | Held at Gunpoint

6 | OUT OF YOUR MIND

Conditioning | Mind Control | Forced to Hurt Someone Else

7 | NOT DEAD TILL YOU’RE WARM N DEAD

Flatline | Restrained | CPR

8 | A BRAIN ON FIRE

Panice Attacks | Dissociation | Seizure

9 | DEAD ON YOUR FEET

Scar Reveal | Interrogation | Presumed Dead

10 | A GIFT TO REMEMBER

Branding | Scarring | Collar

11 | FLOAT LIKE A FEATHER

Fainting | Paralyzed | Adrenaline

12 | LEFT A SCAR ON MY HEART

Self Harm | Sacrifice | Character Death

13 | A FORCE OF NATURE, AN ACT OF GOD

Earthquake | Flood | Crushed

14 | 9-1-1, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?

Bleeding through the bandage | Field Medicine | No Anesthesia

15 | WHO’S THE NEW KID?

Experimentation | Muzzle | Transformation

16 | ONE HALF OF A WHOLE PERSON

Amputation | Chronic Pain | Hospital

17 | INTO THE FIRE

Hypothermia | Heat Stroke | “You Look a Little Pale?”

18 | TAKING A SICK DAY

Fever | Vomiting | Warm Soup

19 | I’LL NEVER PUSH YOU AROUND

Taken for Granted | Left Behind | “Why Wasn’t I Enough?”

20 | THE BEAUTY FELL FOR THE BEAST

Dehumanization | Stockholm Syndrome | Master & Servant

21 | WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU

Blood loss | Shock | Near Death Experience

22 | PAIN MAKES YOU STRONGER

Whipping | punishment | stress position

23 | DON’T TRY TO BE THE HERO

Begging | “Take Me Instead” | Forced to Watch

24 | RUNNING UP THAT HILL TO MAKE A DEAL WITH GOD

Failed Escape | Hunted Down | Too Exhausted to Keep Running

25 | BAD DREAMS, BAD DREAMS, HERE TO STAY

Nightmares | Flashback | “Why Didn’t You Save Me?”

26 | THE LAZARUS EFFECT

Magical Exhaustion or Injury | Curse | Came Back Wrong

27 | NEVER LET GO

Forgotten | Locked Away | Immortal

28 | OUT OF BREATH AND OUT OF TIME

Whumpee hair pulling | Oxygen Deprivation | Sweating

29 | ONE TICKET TO HELL

“The Easy Way or The Hard Way? | Bargaining | Forced to Choose

30 | YOU’RE MINE, ALWAYS WILL BE MINE

Possession | Mind Games | Coma

31 | A light at the end of the tunnel

PTSD | Headaches | Crying

MY CHARACTER LIST:

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw Henry ‘Wolfman’ Ruth Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson Rhett Abbott

MY PAIRING LIST:

Jake & Shy!Wifey Dragon & Rooster Coyote & Val Phoenix & Cerberus Bob & Bea Hangman & Athena

Fill out the Form to be Tagged:)

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yandere-daze · 1 year

Note

Waa congrats on 3k daze! i've been here since 1400 (or maybe even before that. I can't quite recall) and it's really heartwarming to see my favourite writer grow so much ♡ For the event, can i please ask for the tower, the hierophant & temperance from the tarot prompts for mika? :)

Whoa, it seems like you´ve been around for quite a long time then! A lot of time has passed since the 1.4k followers event so it´s kind of impressive to hear that someone has been reading my stuff for that long, thank you for sticking around!☺️ And your favorite writer? Omg you´re flattering me and it´s working😳

And of course I´m always happy to write for Mika <3 I guess you can consider this a late birthday gift? Since I haven´t actually written any of the other stuff I´ve been meaning to write about him yet silnfls

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, delusion, violence, allusion to murder, possessiveness, stalking, taking pictures of the reader (mentioned), worshipping the reader, implied kidnapping as a throw-away line

The Tower - If this yandere saw their darling in danger, how would they respond/react?

Okay so if you somehow got put into a dangerous situation, there´s no way Mika is going to be unaware of it because he´s always by your side, whether that´s him just tagging along no matter where you go and being generally clingy, or him stalking you from a safe distance away to “make sure you´re safe”.

And well, either way, he´s very glad that he made that decision to stay close to you ( and totally not for his own interests) because his beloved darling actually is in danger now, right in front of him!

Of course, Mika´s first reaction is one of shock and panic but that quickly turns into a blind rage after he has fully assessed the situation.

You´re right in front of him, calling out for help while someone else is endangering you.

And Mika just can´t have that. No one is allowed to touch his darling and he sees it as his duty to save and protect you.

So how does he deal with this tense and difficult situation? Violence.

Charges in screaming, probably yelling death threats and demanding for you be let go while he jumps at the attacker´s throat, fully intent on just killing them if you weren´t there to ground him a bit.

He doesn´t want you to see him as a violent person because that wouldn´t make for a good romantic partner so Mika hesitantly refrains from actually killing this person right in front of you and instead just beats them into a bloody pulp until he´s sure that they´re never ever going to try and put you in danger again.

Immediately afterward makes sure that you´re safe and checks up on any wounds you may have suffered while offering you words of comfort ( and candy from one of his pockets). Don´t worry, he´s going to take great care of you while you recover from that horrifying situation, he´s going to serve you in any way he can!

Of course only after searching out your attacker once more on his own and actually finishing the job now. They didn´t think they could get away with putting his darling in danger, did they?

The Hierophant - Could this yandere´s darling fool them easily? Or be manipulated by them?

Oh, it´s almost too easy in fact! Mika is an obsessed and worshipping yandere that puts his darling onto the highest of pedestals, you´re basically a deity to him.

He´s absolutely hellbent on pleasing you in any way he can, so it´s very easy to get him to do things for you. Mika will bend over backward just to hear your praise.

On that note, yes, praising him will get you pretty far and it will keep him satisfied for quite some time before he starts demanding more attention and affection from you.

He sees himself absolutely beneath you and so anything you say goes. In his eyes, it´s all to show you what a good boyfriend he could be for you by doing things for you all the time.

There´s also the fact that Mika is a very delusional yandere so as long as what you say or do fits with his ideal fantasy of you being a loving couple destined to be with each other for all eternity, he´ll believe it.

He´ll believe almost anything you say with a smile on his face because you could never be wrong.

He also just sometimes.... outright ignores things that would go against the delusions he had built himself about your relationship. All the times you accidentally let a hateful comment toward him slip? Oh, he simply didn´t hear you correctly!

The only thing that might be your downfall is Mika´s rampant jealousy though. If he has even a hint of suspicion that you might like someone else more ( even if it´s completely unfounded), he´s going to be quite a bit warier when you try to manipulate him.

The same counts for when you´ve done it too many times or have, in his eyes, “betrayed his trust”. Like trying to escape from him by making him take off your shackles.

Temperance - What made this person yandere for their darling?

Most of all, I feel the cause of Mika turning into a yandere is a combination of his childhood and his linked self-esteem issues.

As we know, Mika was given up by his birth parents into an orphanage and he had wondered for many years if they simply found him hideous. Always wondering about why they didn´t want him.

Mika is also very touch-starved and has said that he just craves love, it doesn´t matter how much it hurts him, how painful it is.

So when he meets you, someone that is so kind to him and willing to give him the attention and love he never really got? Well, he´s smitten and quickly starts to idolize you.

Mika is experiencing a feeling he has never felt for anyone else before and he soon grows obsessed with it, wanting to keep feeling all warm and fuzzy when you look his way or give him a compliment. Wanting to finally feel alive.

And while their relationship has grown and gotten a lot healthier in recent times, Shu´s past treatment of Mika also probably had an impact on him turning out this way.

He tries to accept that he´s no longer a doll, he´s a human with his own thoughts and feelings.

And yet. And yet he still wants to be controlled by you, he wants to have a purpose by serving you and making sure that you´ll always be happy ( with him at your side of course!)

Watching you every single day and taking photos of you when you aren´t looking just makes him even more enamored with you.

Mika is convinced you´re the most wonderful and divine person that has ever walked this earth, your beauty and benevolence second to none.

And he almost thinks he doesn´t deserve you.

But maybe just this once, he wants to be selfish too

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clementine-writes-things · 26 days

Text

Protect & Love - E.N

Summary: Being close friends in the orphanage, y/n and Edward move in together after leaving it. They eventually get in a relationship. Edward knows y/n has lots of trauma, has abandonment issues, and is very dependent, but he loves them very much. He wants to be with them for the rest of his life. He'll protect her always.

(I got inspo for this after seeing that scene from Ruby Sparks where she cries when he lets go of her hand. I haven't seen the entire movie, but ik that Calvin is AN ASSHOLE! So, this fanfic is NOT about any of that. It is only about y/n being safe with Edward and Edward taking care of her.)

(A/N: This is based on what I know about age-re and my personal experiences with it. I know not every one's experience with it is the same. So, keep that in mind while reading <3)

ALSO HOLY FUCK THIS WHOLE FANFIC IS SO CUTE I'M PISSING PLUTONIUM ELEMENT ^v^

Content Warning: Y/n is an age regressor (regresses to like around 10-11 years old), explicit language, trauma, drugs, alcohol, abandonment issues, angst, fluff, panic attacks, PTSD, Edward being a great friend and partner, AFAB!Reader, she/her pronouns. (rare moment for me not to make y/n gay in some way.)

Word Count:

Songs For Inspo:

daydreaming - Rebzyyx, horrormovies

La Vie en rose - Edith Piaf

Wanderings - Mook

Love Like You - Rebecca Sugar

rises the moon - Liana Flores

Kids - Current Joys

~Read Below Cut~

(also, idk shit about orphanages so i will most likely get how they work VERY wrong. pls don't take any offensive from how i write it <3 im doing my best pookies)

"Children, gather around now! Come on, hurry up! We have a new friend joining our home."

The children in the room all huddled up around Sister Addams. Edward stood in the back, not wanting to deal with wiggling through the crowd of kids. He didn't like being in big crowds. Instead, he stood on his tippy toes, trying to get a good look at who was joining the orphanage.

"This is y/n! I trust that you'll all make her feel comfortable. Go on, y/n. Say something about yourself." Sister Addams encouraged.

Edward couldn't see her too well, even on the tips of his toes. But, eventually, he found a little crack of space that he could see her through. She looked really skinny and frail, just like him. But, so did everyone else in the orphanage really. A brown teddy bear was held tightly to her chest, as if it was her form of life support.

'She's pretty...'

"Um, I like...um...ponies?" She mumbled.

"Ponies! Isn't that nice? I'm sure you'll find other girls that like ponies too. Your bed is at the very far left end, near the window." She said.

Y/n nodded as Sister Addams left the room. Some children stared at her for a little while longer before walking away, while others left immediately after. She stayed standing there for a little while longer. Once the crowd dispersed, Edward could see her more clearly now. She wore a yellow sundress with white knee socks bunched around her ankles. It looked like she was crying. Pushing up his glasses, he walked towards her.

"Hi, I'm Edward." He said, holding his hand out.

Y/n looked at him, bear still held tightly to her chest. After a little bit, she held out one hand and shook his. She found a handshake to be extremely formal for their age.

"How old are you?" Edward asked.

"I'm 10..."

"Me too."

Y/n looked down at the floor, gripping the bear tight again. She wiped away her tears with the back of her arm. Edward stood awkwardly, glancing around the room. He didn't really know what to do about her crying.

"Why are you sad?"

"My p-parents were mean to me. I g-got taken aw-way from them..." She said between soft cries.

Edward noticed how she fidgeted with the ear of the stuffed animal. Perhaps that was a stuffed animal from when she lived with her parents.

"I'm sorry that they were mean. I don't know my parents." He said bluntly.

"Y-You don't have parents?" She asked, curiously.

"Well, I do. I just don't know where they are...or who they are."

"Oh, I'm sorry..." Y/n trailed.

Edward pointed at her face; more specifically her eyes. Y/n looked at his finger, going cross-eyed as she did so. He smiled and dropped his hand back down.

"I like your eyes. They're pretty."

Y/n blushed, smiling softly.

"Thanks, I like your glasses. They look cool. I bet you can see everything with them!" She giggled.

"I don't think it's possible to see everything. A human's peripheral vision isn't that wide." He stated.

"You're silly." Y/n said.

"Thank you?"

After that first interaction, the two kids became inseparable. They were best friends till the very end. Edward was literally the only person y/n ever hung out with. She didn't get along with anyone else. Plus, Edward was the only one who talked to her when she came to the orphanage. She was alone, abandoned by her family, hurt, and he was there to make her feel welcome. Needless to say, she got attached to him quickly. As they got older, around 14, that's when Edward started to realize that y/n had severe trauma. Who could blame her? He was a smart kid, always reading books on information that seemed unimportant, and one of the books he read was on psychology. He deducted that y/n had abandonment issues, which was justifiable seeing as what she went through. When they were both 16, there was one thing that y/n did that he found an answer for after reading some of Freud's work. Though, he didn't really need a book to understand what it was.

Edward and y/n sat at the cafeteria tables, the only ones sitting at the table they were at. No one ever sat with them, but they didn't really care. In fact, they favored the privacy. Looking up from his 'food' Edward noticed y/n had barely eaten anything. He sighed, leaning over the table slightly and moved her tray to get her attention. She had been spaced out the entire time.

"Hey, you need to eat something. Ok?" He said.

Y/n snapped out of her daze, fidgeting with the bear on her lap. She carried it around with her everywhere. Everyone in the orphanage made fun of her for it. But, it was something that brought a lot of comfort to her. Edward didn't mind it. He found comfort in books and y/n found comfort in a stuffed animal. What was the big deal?

"M' not really that hungry..." She murmured.

Edward scoffed softly, rubbing his hand over his forehead in frustration. He grabbed the fork and her hand, placing it on her palm. She looked up at him, eyes big and just as pretty as they were when he first saw her.

"Eat. Please? Just a few bites at least." He asked.

Y/n sighed, but gave in. She took a bite of her food, and Edward smiled. He was glad that she was eating. After a few more bites, she put the fork back down. He wanted to tell her to eat more, but he was just glad she ate something. Edward looked at her a little more closely, seeing how she was positioned and acting.

"Are you ok?" Edward questioned.

She shook her head, looking down at her lap. He wasn't quite sure what was wrong with her. Edward leaned forward, elbows propped on the table. She was picking at the fuzz on the bear; something she did when she was nervous or uncomfortable. He picked up on it immediately.

"Oh, is it...are you...?" He asked quietly, not wanting to draw attention to them.

She nodded.

"Um, ok. Do you want to go back to our room?" He asked.

She nodded again. Edward could tell that she was extremely uncomfortable. It was pretty obvious now. He stood up and picked his tray up.

"Are you done eating?"

Y/n nodded. Edward picked up her tray and placed it on top of his. He started to walk away, but y/n grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. Stopping, he turned around and looked down at her. He sighed. She didn't want him to leave her alone.

"Well, come with me then." He said.

Y/n stood up, holding one of the bear's arms in her hand tightly as she walked next to him. People stared at her, making her feel like she was in the spotlight. Everyone in the orphanage thought that Edward and y/n were the strangest kids in the building. So, when they stood next to each other, everyone looked. Why wouldn't they? They all wanted a look at the freaks. The two of them did their best to ignore it though as Edward put the trays on the counter. Quickly, they left the lunchroom and turned the corner. Within a minute, they were back in their room. Y/n walked to her bed and sat down on it, legs drawn up to her chest as her head hung between her knees. Edward grabbed a book from under his bed and walked over to her. He sat down on the foot of the bed, facing her as he opened up his book. This was a frequent thing that happened with y/n. Edward had concluded from observing (and sneaking onto the computer in the library for research) that y/n age regressed. It was a coping mechanism, no doubt to help her cope with her childhood trauma. She felt embarrassed of it, not wanting to be around anyone when it happened. Well, other than Edward. He wouldn't make fun of her. He didn't think it was weird. He actually helped her when it happened.

"Do you need to be alone or do you want company?" He asked, flipping through the book he had.

"Company." She said simply.

"Ok. Do you want to read with me?"

Y/n wiped a tear away from her eye, sniffling. She brought her head up, looking at what he was reading. The title said 'Frankenstein'. Y/n pointed at the cover of the book, tapping it multiple times. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't figure out how to say it. Edward gave her time.

"Is this the book where that guy makes that monster?" She asked finally.

"Yeah, I like it a lot. I've read it multiple times." He said.

"I wanted to read it." Y/n said.

"Want me to read it to you?" Edward suggested.

Y/n nodded, sitting next to him and resting her head on his shoulder. Once she was settled, he opened up the book. He was already more than halfway through, but he'd start over for her. He didn't mind. His fingers flipped through the pages until he found the first chapter. Adjusting his glasses, he cleared his throat before starting to read.

"To Mrs. Saville, England..."

The two of them kept going in and out of foster homes. No one ever wanted to 'keep' them. But, to be honest, they were ok with that. They didn't like being apart from each other. Every time y/n would come back, she would run into Edward's arms and cry. She would tell him how much she missed him and that she didn't want to leave him ever again. He felt so bad for her. Edward was certain that no one could take care of her quite like he could. He was the only one who knew her well. Well, eventually, Edward turned 18. Oh, y/n was a wreck. But, they had already made a plan.

"Hey, hey, it's ok! Your birthday is in a few months. You can hang in for a few more months, right?" He said gently, hugging her close to his chest.

"No I can't! Don't le-leave me!" She sobbed.

"I can't stay. You know that." Edward sighed.

He pushed y/n off of him, grabbing her shoulders. The poor thing had tears streaming down her face. How would she survive without him? Edward had always been there for her for almost 8 years straight. The people in the orphanage were so mean to her too. He wiped away her tears.

"Remember our plan? I was already given a job at KTMJ. While I'm out, I'll get an apartment for us. And when you turn 18, I'll be right behind those doors waiting for you. I promise you." He said.

Y/n sniffled, clearing her throat as she looked down at the ground. She sighed, holding back more tears from pouring out. Edward smiled at her as she looked back up at him. She had small grin on her face.

"Y-You're really smart, Eddie. Already ha-have a job and you haven't e-even left yet. You've got e-everything planned out..." She lightly chuckled.

"Of course I do, you know I'm a planner."

"Can I have one more hug?" She asked softly.

Edward nodded, giving her a tight hug for the millionth time. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting out a shaky breath. Maybe if she never let go he would never have to leave. No, of course that wouldn't work. He had to go. She had to push through.

"Ok, I'll be ok..." She told herself as she pulled away from the hug.

"Yeah, you're brave and strong. You've got this." He reassured.

Edward picked up his suitcase that had his belongings in it. It wasn't much of course. He gave y/n another smile, ruffling her hair up. She swatted his hand away, glaring at him. Holding up his hands in defense, he walked towards the doors that left the orphanage. Y/n watched him leave, giving him a wave before he left her alone in the building.

'Now what?'

Well, Edward had kept his promise. When y/n was let go from the orphanage, he was outside waiting for her. She ran to him and practically jumped into his arms. From an outsiders perspective, it would look like they were a couple. But, they weren't. They were just really good friends. But, both of them would be lying if they said they didn't have feelings for the other. Regardless, Edward brought y/n to the apartment he had got for them. He could only afford a one bedroom apartment. Y/n understood, she didn't really have a problem with it. But, Edward being the gentleman he was let her sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch. Y/n looked for a job, though she had difficulty finding a good one. It was so hard for her to go out and be around other people. She was socially awkward and got so nervous so easily. But, she ended up landing a job as a barista at a coffee shop. Cliche? Sure. Did she care? No. She just wanted a job so she could help with rent. She was starting to get adjusted to life outside the orphanage, she could finally be in a comfortable setting, and she was living with her best friend. How could things get any better?

Edward and y/n sat at the table near the kitchen. The both of them had had a long day at work. Y/n yawned, taking a bite of her cereal. Yep, cereal for dinner once again. A meal for champions. That's what she liked to call it.

"Hey, y/n?" Edward said.

She looked up from her bowl, a dribble of the milk trickling from the corner of her mouth. Edward chuckled, placing his spoon down in the bowl. He leaned forward and used his thumb to wipe away the milk, giving her a soft smile. Y/n giggled at the action. Edward sighed, he wasn't really sure how to ask the question he so desperately wanted to ask. So, he decided to just be blunt with it.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He asked.

Y/n's eyes widened, dropping her spoon in the bowl. Edward's eyes widened too, glancing around the room awkwardly. She nodded frantically, a huge smile plastered on her face. He gave a sigh of relief internally. Thank heavens. Because of how close they sat to each other, y/n grabbed his hand and entwined it with hers. She hummed, resting her cheek on the back of his hand. Edward watched her closely, seeing how comfortable she was around him. It made him happy to know that he could make her feel safe. He looked down to the newspaper in front of him, looking over the daily crossword. Y/n reached over and grabbed his pencil. Raising an eyebrow, he watched as she filled in 20 across. The hint was "a thing that becomes terrifying or destructive to its maker; a movie; a book". When she pulled away from the paper and placed the pencil on the table, he read what she wrote down.

'Frankenstein'

Grinning from ear to ear, he looked over at her. Pride was evident on his face, and y/n could see it. She so dearly loved when he was proud of her. He was the only person in her life that ever felt proud of her.

"Well look at you go! You smart cookie, you."

Y/n shrugged, resting her cheek back on his hand. Edward hummed to himself as he filled out the rest of the crossword puzzle. It took him a little under two minutes. It was a fairly easy crossword puzzle; at least for him it was. With a goofy grin on his face, he asked a question.

"Does this mean I can sleep in my bed again? With you?"

She nodded happily.

"Thank God..."

Edward knew that y/n was a bit of a handful. He had been 'dealing' with her for 8 years. But, he didn't really see it as a problem. He loved who she was. Yeah, she was different, but he loved that about her. He knew that she struggled with her trauma, but he wanted to help her with it. When you love someone, you'd do anything for them. That's exactly how Edward was. Usually, he was a very shy person, hating PDA and not wanting any attention brought onto him. But, now that he was dating her, PDA was inevitable. He now loved PDA. Granted, it wasn't like they were making out in public, except for that one time. Rather, they were always holding hands. Y/n was always in Edward's arms. He never let her out of his sight.

-PRESENT-

Y/n was in the 'lobby' of Edward's office. The receptionist casted glances at her occasionally. Looking at the nameplate, y/n saw that it said 'Amy Tompkins'. Standing up, y/n walked over to her and waved. Amy hesitantly waved back with a small smile.

"Hi! I'm y/n!" She said, holding out her hand.

Amy raised an eyebrow, but took her hand and shook it.

"Nice to meet you y/n, I'm Amy."

"Oh, I know! I read the plate! I just wanted to ask, is your job hard?" She asked, propping her elbows on the raised counter.

Tompkins smirked, amused at the question. When y/n had walked in earlier, she mentioned that she was just waiting for Edward to get off of work. People at the office had heard that Edward Nashton had a girlfriend, but they didn't really believe it. And now that Amy was actually seeing her, she was surprised. For Edward Nashton's girlfriend, they sure seemed to be the complete opposite of him.

"Uh, not really no. I mean, sometimes our clients can be...a bit rude...but other than that it's pretty easy." She answered.

"Hmph, I hate customer service so much." Y/n sighed.

"You work in customer service?" Amy asked.

"Yeah, I'm a barista."

"Oh, so you really get cranky customers, don't you?" She laughed.

Y/n groaned, nodding her head.

"You have no idea..."

Amy chuckled, looking down at the computer as she typed something. Y/n hummed to herself, glancing at the clock. Only a few more minutes before Edward got off of work. She glanced over her shoulders, as if she was trying to be sneaky about something. Y/n cupped a hand over her mouth.

"Do you have candy? I've heard receptionists usually have candies out." She whispered.

Amy couldn't help but let a giggle out. She nodded, grabbing a cute glass jar that had individually wrapped chocolates in it. Y/n's eyes widened. She had rarely ever had chocolate her entire life since she grew up in the orphanage. It was like a rare delicacy to her. Gotham's orphanages weren't the best when it came to taking care of kids.

"Oh my gosh...can I...can I have some?" She asked.

The receptionist nodded, pushing the bowl closer to her. Usually, she would be annoyed if someone was talking this much to her. But, y/n was actually really sweet and entertaining. Plus, she was extremely bored and got off work in a few minutes. Who cared, really?

"Have at it. You can take all of them if you want. I have to get new candy anyways." Amy said.

"No way! Are you serious! Like, for real!?"

"Yeah, help yourself."

Y/n didn't hesitate to grab a huge handful of the chocolates. Amy watched in amusement as y/n scooped the candy into her coat pocket. The door that led to the cubicles opened, and Edward stepped out. He was surprised to see y/n there because she was supposed to be at work still. But, then he remembered that she had the day off, so it made sense to him. His eyes landed on her hand in the candy jar and he looked at Amy. The receptionist had a dorky smile on her face.

"Eddie! Did you know they have chocolate here!? I can't even remember the last time I've had chocolate! Let alone see it!" She exclaimed.

Edward smiled awkwardly at Amy, stepping forward and grabbing y/n's hand. He propped his forearms up onto the counter as he looked at the receptionist. Y/n rested her head against his shoulder, getting the rest of the pieces of chocolate from the bowl and putting them in her pockets.

"Hey Amy, I know you're leaving soon, but could you do me a favor? Please?" He asked.

Amy smiled at the sight of Edward rubbing his thumbs over y/n's knuckles. She was a very romantic person and it warmed her heart to see the kind act. Plus, she had always been fond of Edward. People at work were far too mean to him when he was just a very kind person. She was glad to see that he had found happiness.

"Yeah, whaddya need?"

"Can you print out the files for the Wynn account? I would have printed them out myself, but I swear the printer in the copy room never has ink." He sighed.

"Yeah, no problem Ed."

Amy started to type on the keyboard, clicking with the mouse as she pulled up the files for the account. With another click, she had the papers printed out. Standing up from her chair, she walked over to the printer and waited for the pages to finish. Edward leaned over to his side, planting a kiss on y/n's head. She smiled, opening up one of the chocolate wrappers and popping the sweet treat in her mouth.

"Holy fuck this shit is so good!" She groaned.

Edward nudged her foot with his own. He had no problem with cussing, but they weren't really in an appropriate setting to cuss. She blushed, feeling embarrassed. Amy laughed, nodding her head as she attached the pages together with a paperclip and handed it to Edward.

"I know, that's kind of why I gave them all to you. If I eat anymore I swear I might pop." She joked.

"Thanks for the copies, Amy."

Edward nudged y/n again. Y/n knew what he was trying to communicate to her. She finished eating the chocolate as fast as she could.

"Thanks for the chocolate!" She smiled.

"No problem, you guys get home safe ok? I'll see you on Monday, Edward."

He walked towards the door, hand still entwined with y/n's as he waved to Amy. Y/n popped another chocolate in her mouth as Edward opened up the door.

"See you on Monday." He said.

The two of them walked out the door and made their way to the stairs. Y/n wanted to hop down over steps, but she held onto Edward's hand instead. She had missed him a lot all day. He looked over at her, seeing that she was eating another piece of chocolate. Shaking his head, he let out a breathy laugh.

"That was awfully nice of her to give you those chocolates. But, you know you can't eat them all tonight, right?" He asked.

Y/n looked at him, popping another chocolate in her mouth. He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged at him.

"Why not?" She asked.

"You're going to get extremely sick." He chuckled.

"That's a price I'm willing to pay." Y/n retorted.

"Oh yeah? Ok, well when you're puking later on I'll remind you that you said that." He rolled his eyes, opening up the front door to the building.

The two of them walked down to the subway, sitting on a bench and waiting for a train. Y/n dug into her bag with the hand that wasn't holding Edwards and grabbed her phone. She turned it on, put in her password, and showed it to Edward. He adjusted his glasses, looking at what was on the screen. He smiled when he realized what it was.

"There were two pigeons just hanging out outside of our apartment! It was so cute! Look, they're cuddling!" She said, shoving it in his face.

"Uh, well I can't really see it this close up." He said.

"Oh, yeah, oops." She said, pulling the phone away slightly.

"That's a cute picture though." He said, kissing her on the forehead.

The train arrived shortly after and the two of them got on it. Y/n yawned, using Edward's hand to cover her mouth as they both sat down. He smiled, letting go of her hand and placing it on her knee as he looked at his phone.

"You tired?" He asked.

The train started to move and Edward held onto her knee firmly so she didn't slide. He did that every single time. He would hold her hip and keep her close to him if they were standing and he would place his hand on her knee if they were sitting down. Edward was far from strong, but he did feel very protective over her. Living in Gotham was far from safe, so you always had to keep an eye out. But, no matter how many times he told that to y/n, she just couldn't seem to understand it. She was too friendly for her own good. So, he had to be extra careful for both of them. He did not consider himself to be a violent person, but if y/n was ever put in a bad situation, he was certain he would pulverize someone.

"A little, yeah..." She sighed.

"Well, maybe you should take a nap?" He suggested.

She nodded, yawning again as she laid on her side. Her head rested on his lap as she drew her knees to her chest. Edward smirked, amused at how eager she was to nap. He did not mean that she should nap at this very moment. But, as he saw her resting on his lap, he couldn't bring himself to move her. People were no doubt staring at the both of them, but he honestly did not care. Edward had seen far stranger things in Gotham's subways than someone taking a nap on someone's lap. He put his hand on her head, brushing his fingers through her hair as he went on his phone.

The train had stopped and the two of them had gotten off. Edward had to wake y/n up before that, and she was pretty grumpy. But, he told her that she could go right back to taking a nap when they got home. Just like he always did, he held onto her hand securely as they exited the subway station. Their apartment building was only a block away now. Y/n popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth, making Edward frown.

"Seriously, you should stop eating those. You're going to regret it later." He said.

"Are you threatening me, Edward Nashton?" She questioned.

"No, I'm just stating a fact. I know you. You like to eat a lot of candy, say that you'll be fine, and then you get really sick later on. Every. Single. Time."

"Ugh, fine. Whatever..." She grumbled.

He kissed her on the head.

"Thank you, sweetie."

Edward continued walking with her, but stopped when he felt his pocket was empty. Furrowing his eyebrows, he turned around. He groaned in irritation, looking back at y/n. He brought her over to the less crowded part of the sidewalk.

"I dropped my keys back there. Stay right here ok? I'll be right back." He said.

Y/n watched as he rounded the corner. But, as soon as he did that, people started walking towards her as well. She felt crowded and she pressed herself to the brick wall of the building. It was as if the wall of a dam broke and the water was flowing out rapidly. Her chest tightened and she felt her breathing pick up. It was a little sad how easily she got overwhelmed and anxious. But, to be fair, the streets of Gotham were overwhelming to almost everyone. She was just unable to process it alone. There was a reason she got a job at the closest place to their apartment. It was because she didn't want to have to take the subway or walk far. Only when it was absolutely necessary. She was trying to get better at it, but it took time. She felt like she was suffocating. She looked around, trying to find Edward. But, because of her spinning around, she got a little confused. The crowds of people made her feel like she was lost in a maze. Desperate to get out of the confining swarm of bodies, she ran into the nearest alley way. She panted, holding a hand over her heart as she tried to catch her breath. Being in that crowd reminded her of when she was with her parents. They would take her to 'crack houses', as they were both heavy addicts. They had no one else to watch her, so she had to tag along with them a lot. The houses were always so crowded and overwhelmed her. Often times, her parents would leave her alone in a room so they could shoot up in the other room. How polite...they didn't want their daughter seeing them get high. But, of course, they would bring her to a house full of drug addicts. There were so many times that she would almost step on or touch a needle. One of the people there even tried to get her to 'eat' a sliver of meth, telling her that it was candy. She didn't though. She was smarter than that.

"Y/n?! Y/n! Where are you?!" Edward called out.

She sunk down to her butt, bringing her knees up to her chest. When she got scared or was put into a scenario that reminded her of her traumatic childhood, she would regress. It was unpreventable. She could tell that it was happening, and that made her even more scared because she was out in the streets of Gotham while it was happening. She was so caught up in her emotions that she never even heard Edward call for her. Frantically, Edward came into the alley and looked around. His eyes widened as he saw y/n sitting on the ground. He was relieved to see her, but he was also worried. Walking over, he crouched down and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, burying her head in between her knees. Just like she did in the orphanage. He gently embraced her in a hug, drawing her to his chest as he cradled her head.

"I was so scared when I couldn't find you..." He sighed.

"You let go of my hand!" She cried.

Edward felt a pang in his heart. She was right. That was a stupid thing that he did. He easily could have just brought her with him. Why didn't he? Even he didn't know. He helped her stand up, still holding her close to his chest. She sobbed into his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly. Edward scolded himself as he rubbed her back.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I don't know why I let go of you. It was really crowded today, and I know it scares you. But, I have you right now, ok? You're ok now." He cooed, planting a kiss on her head.

She didn't say anything. All she did was cry into his shirt. God, did that make him feel like a total piece of shit. Of course he didn't mean to scare her. He just wasn't thinking. Edward continued to rub her back as she cried. He could tell what was happening. She had gotten so overwhelmed and scared that she regressed to help herself calm down. It wasn't working that well, though. But, he was quick to help out.

"Sweet girl, I know that you're still shaken up, but we can't stay here all night. We need to get back home, ok?" He said.

"I don't want to go back out..." She hiccupped.

Edward pushed her away from the hug and crouched down. He looked up into her eyes as he held her hands in his own. Bringing them to his lips, he kissed them softly. His eyes were so kind and gentle behind his clear framed glasses.

"We have to baby. I promise I'll hold you the entire time."

She sniffled, wiping a few tears away that had trickled down her cheeks. Y/n looked out to the sidewalks. People still walked by, but it was less than before. She took a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips. Edward tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"When we get back home we can watch a movie or a show if you want. We can relax alllll day. Doesn't that sound nice?" Edward asked sweetly.

"Yeah..."

"Well, if you want to do that then we need to get home. So, can you go back out with me? I can't go out without you." He frowned.

"You ca-can't?" She asked.

"No way! I get scared out in the crowd too! I feel a lot better when you're holding my hand." Edward smiled.

This was partially true and also just something he said to encourage y/n. Edward was perfectly fine walking through the crowded sidewalks of Gotham. He did get overwhelmed sometimes and had to take a breather, but he was mostly fine. He only said that because he knew that it would make y/n want to go back out more. Edward felt that they would be safer out in the street than an alley way.

"O-Ok, let's go. But, don't let go of my hand!" She said.

Edward grabbed her hand tightly, holding it up so she could see it. She smiled as he pretended he was locking a padlock. He mimed the act of tossing the key away. Looking back to her he gave a goofy grin.

"It's locked. I couldn't even let go if I tried."

They walked back out onto the sidewalk, making their way towards the apartment quickly. Y/n looked at him and giggled.

"Well, how are you going to unlock it?" She asked.

As they walked, Edward patted himself down with his free hand. He looked in the pockets of his coat, the pockets of his pants, and he shrugged. But, he squinted at y/n. He tapped on her chin, motioning for her to open her mouth. He pretended to grab something off her tongue. He 'held' it up between his two fingers.

"Why were you trying to eat the spare key?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I did not! You're not even holding anything!" She laughed.

"Pfft, you're ruining the magic of it." He rolled his eyes.

Before they knew it, they arrived at the apartment building. Y/n sighed in relief as they stepped inside. The sound of the hustle and bustle outside was deafened as the door closed behind them. Edward, still holding her hand, led her up the stairs to the floor they lived on. He fumbled with the keys for a little bit, but he eventually unlocked the door and opened it up. Y/n let go of his hand as she walked inside, so she could hang up her coat. After that, she went to the couch and faceplanted on it. Edward chuckled, removing his shoes and locking the apartment door. Truth be told, he was completely exhausted from his day at work. His 'higher ups' were as ignorant and boastful as always. His job was easy to him, but the people he had to deal with made it difficult. However, y/n always kept him in a cheerful and positive mood. It was nice to be able to come home from work and spend time with his best friend/partner. Edward walked over to her, grabbing her feet to take her shoes off. Once he did that for her, he put them next to his. He could tell that she was still very tired, and no doubt still in a regressed state. Edward went to her coat, grabbing the chocolate out of the pocket before he forgot. Walking into the kitchen, he opened up the door to the freezer and put the chocolates inside of it. Chocolate was always better when it was cold.

"Do you want to watch a show or movie? Or do you want to take a nap?" He asked, going back towards her.

Y/n mumbled into the couch, nodding her head. Edward sighed, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants as he looked at her. She raised her hands up, shaking them frantically. He rolled his eyes playfully, he sat down on the long part of the 'L' couch. Groaning softly, he reached over and grabbed y/n, placing her on his other side so that she was wedged between him and the armrest of the couch. She buried her face in his chest, hiking her leg up over his waist. Edward reached over and grabbed a light blanket, draping it over y/n's body.

"You never gave me an answer, baby. Do you want to take a nap or watch something?" He asked..

"I wanna watch something." She mumbled, her cheek against his chest.

"Ok, well what did you have in mind?" He asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, snuggling up closer to him. He sighed, trailing his hand under the blanket to rub her back. Edward took her silence as a way to say she didn't really care what they watched. So, he decided to put on a 'Forensic Files'. How original. After placing the remote down on the side table next to the couch, he stroked y/n's hair. She sat up almost instantly afterwards. Edward looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Without saying a word, she went into their bedroom. Edward's hands were slightly in the air, like he was shocked.

"Um, what ever happened to saying bye?" He asked jokingly.

Y/n came back to the couch, cuddling up to Edward just like she did before. This time, she had her old bear from the orphanage with her. He smiled, watching as she turned to face the T.V, bear tucked under her arm, blanket covering her body, and her head resting on his chest. If someone told him 8 years ago that he would be in a relationship with someone like y/n, he would have called them crazy. But, here he was, holding her in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world. They both had fucked up pasts, traumatic childhoods, and issues. But, they found comfort in each other's company. They could confide in each other without any judgment. Edward could not imagine him with anyone else than her. Neither could y/n. They only wanted to be with each other. No one would understand y/n quite like Edward did. And vice versa.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked.

She nodded.

"Mhm, super comfy."

"I'm glad, sweetheart."

Y/n smiled, getting up and sitting on his lap. Edward folded his hands together, fingers entwined and resting on his lower stomach. When y/n was coping, Edward made sure he didn't touch her in any way that could be sexual. He would cuddle with her, kiss her on the head or cheek, and let her sit on his lap if she really wanted to. But, he would never do anything other than those things. Sure, y/n sat on his lap a lot, especially when they were making out or having sex. But, there was a very big difference in the those two situations. When y/n and Edward were intimate, y/n would be very close to him on his lap. Their bodies would practically be glued to each other. It was clear that it was a heated and sexual gesture. But, when y/n was regressed, it was gentle. She wasn't up close to him, rather sitting in the space between his legs. Or, sometimes she would straddle the area where his knees were, that way it didn't resemble anything sexual. Y/n trusted Edward enough to be in a vulnerable state around him, and her trust was well placed. In fact, when y/n found herself regressing out in public, Edward was always quick to do what was necessary for the situation. Y/n didn't mind regressing in public, it just depended on where they were. If they were in a large setting, Edward would find a way to excuse themselves or leave the place quickly. If they were in a pretty 'relaxed' place, like an arcade, a mall, or a park, Edward would just help her through the regression. Y/n's regression was not noticeable to anyone except Edward, since he knew that she actually did it. To everyone else, it just looked like y/n was really energetic and clingy. Maybe a little bit childish too. One time when Edward and y/n were at the zoo, y/n ended up regressing. And, despite all the strange looks he received, he did not care. He was just focused on having a nice date with his girlfriend and letting her heal her inner child.

"Eddie! Look, they have flamingos!" Y/n squealed, grabbing him by his hand and dragging him to the exhibit.

Edward, who was looking at the Zebras, let out a little yelp. The tugging on his arm startled him. When y/n got excited, she got a sort of super-human strength. Not wanting his arm to rip off, he followed her in suite, stopping in front of the exhibit with her. She was practically bouncing on her heels. This was the first time she had ever been to the zoo, and it was Edward's first time as well. Edward was having fun, but he wasn't jumping up and down in excitement. Y/n on the other hand, quite literally was jumping up and down. He knew that she was going through her coping mechanism, no doubt having a fun time at the zoo. To be honest, that's why he wanted to take her to the zoo. He wanted to give her a fun experience that she never got as a kid. Edward held onto her hand gently, smiling at how happy she was. When he glanced around, he noticed people staring at her. It made him upset for sure. He didn't want y/n to see the looks people were giving her, so he decided to keep her occupied.

"You like them?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"Yeah! But, they aren't that pink..." She frowned.

He smirked, pushing up his glasses. With his free hand, he pointed at one of the smallest flamingos. Y/n followed the direction he was pointing at. She saw the young flamingo and looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder.

"Well, flamingos aren't born with pink feathers. They actually start off a pale grey." He said.

"Woah, really!?" She gasped.

He nodded.

"They get the pink color from eating carotenoids. That's where the pink hues come from. So, it's a little difficult for them to get bright pink, even though that's how we think they look like. You see that one? It's more red in color, right? Not one flamingo has the same shade." Edward explained.

Y/n looked up at him with a confused look. She understood most of what he was saying. But, she had no idea what a carotenoid was. Edward could see that she was puzzled, so he decided to explain a little more.

"They get the pink color from shrimp and crabs, stuff like that." He said simply.

"Oh! That makes sense!"

Without saying anything, she grabbed him by his arm once again and drug him away. He had no idea where they were going now, only that she was eager. Passerby's watched the couple with judgmental eyes, scoffing and mumbling things under their breath to themselves or the people next to them. Edward glared back at each and every one of them. They had no idea what was going on in their life. People were so quick to judge others. What made it worse, however, is that the happier someone was in public, the 'weirder' they were. That was what boggled Edward's mind. Someone could be having an amazing day, dancing in the park because maybe they got a promotion at work, or maybe they just felt happy for some reason. But, just because that person was dancing in the park, people would automatically think they were 'weird' or 'strange'. There was nothing wrong with being happy and expressing it in public. It didn't matter what age you were. Why should someone be forced to hide their emotions in public? It was stupid to Edward. And, in y/n's case, it was a coping mechanism for her. But, of course, these assholes didn't know that. If they did know, they would probably be more cruel to her for some strange reason. Edward hated people so much...for such an advanced society, humans sure as hell knew nothing about sympathy and kindness. He had seen wild animals be more caring than most humans.

"Where are we going now, sweetie?" He asked, maintaining his quick pace to keep up with her.

"Gift shopppp!!!" She squealed.

Edward rolled his eyes and chuckled. Of course they were going to the gift shop. Well, he did put aside some money for some souvenirs. After all, this was her first time at the zoo. He knew that she would want a couple (hundred) stuffed animals.

"Alright, alright, but let's slow down a bit, yeah? I don't want you to trip." He said.

Y/n nodded, slowing her pace. Smiling, he walked next to her as they went down the path to the gift shop. It was a surprisingly sunny day in Gotham, and Edward could see some redness forming on her cheeks, shoulders, and the tip of her nose. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Y/n, you put on sunscreen like I told you to, right?" He asked.

She looked at him, eyes shifting around.

"Uh, yeah..." Y/n trailed.

Edward sighed as he stepped aside, pulling y/n with him. The two of them finally made it to the gift shop, standing in the shade the building provided. In classic Edward fashion, he removed the backpack he had on. Yes, he took a backpack to the zoo. What was it filled with? Oh, you know...

Sunscreen, band-aids, a metal water bottle, granola bars, sunglasses, etc...

"Y/n, you know better than to lie like that. And, you should have listened to me in the first place. Your poor skin is getting sunburnt." He scolded gently, setting the backpack on a bench next to him.

"Sorry...I forgot to put it on." She admitted.

"It's ok to forget things, sweetie. But, you know you shouldn't lie."

He sighed, pulling out the sunscreen.

"You're already sunburnt, but I'm still going to put some sunscreen on you." Edward said.

Y/n nodded, letting him apply the sunscreen onto his hands before rubbing it into her skin. He was such a worry wart. But, that's what made him a great boyfriend. Y/n never had to ask him to help her out with something, she never had to plan everything, she never had to remind Edward about what she liked and disliked. He would help her without being asked, plan dates with her, and Edward knew everything about her. He was the perfect boyfriend, and he loved her terribly.

"Oh you poor thing..." He mumbled to himself, able to see how sunburnt she really was.

She winced when he applied the sunscreen on her shoulders. Edward shook his head in disapproval. He knew that she forgot to put it on, that was ok. Honestly, he was just upset with himself for not checking before they entered the zoo. Gently, he rubbed some onto her cheeks and nose, closing the lid to the bottle afterwards. He looked down at his hands, grumbling as he rubbed the excess onto his own arms. He hated the texture of the rub-on sunscreen. But, this was the only one he had for some strange reason.

"Alright, you're ok now. But, it's going to hurt later on. Good thing we have that aloe vera plant back home, right?" He asked, kissing her on the head before grabbing her hand.

"Yeah, now let's go in the gift shop!" She exclaimed.

"More concerned about souvenirs than your own skin. That sounds like you." He smirked.

They spent about 15 minutes in that store. Y/n was so indecisive about what she wanted. She had asked Edward if they could just "get everything". He, very seriously, said "no". So in the end, after running around the store and receiving weird looks from parents with their children, she decided on getting two things. Edward was only going to let her get one thing, but he caved in. Y/n got a seagull stuffed animal, but she named it Flamingo. Edward found that to be very amusing, as she said it was because it looked more like a baby flamingo. He was proud that she was using his tidbit of information. The other thing she got, however, was a rat stuffed animal. Edward liked that very much. He loved rats, though the orphanage gave both y/n and Edward a horrible first experience with them. On a date, they had went to a pet store and asked to hold some of the rats, hoping it would help them get over their fear of them. And it worked. Now, Edward thought they were the cutest things. She named the rat stuffed animal Remy, like the one in Ratatouille. The two of them left the store, and y/n shoved Remy into Edward's chest.

"Hold him and pretend he's your child." She said.

Edward scoffed, cradling it in his arms.

"I don't have to pretend. He is my child." He retorted.

Y/n giggled, flapping the wings of Flamingo. Edward smiled, holding her hand with his free hand. He swung their arms back and forth as they walked down the dirt path.

"You want to get some ice cream?" He asked.

"YES!"

Edward shook himself out of his memories, glancing past y/n's head to watch the T.V. She didn't mind. Y/n knew he wasn't ignoring her, he would never ignore her. In fact, they were both sure it was impossible for him to do that.

"You wanna tell me about your day, sweet girl?" He asked.

"Um, well, I didn't really do much..." She mumbled, picking at the fuzz of the bear.

Edward raised an eyebrow, glancing at her briefly before looking back at the T.V.

"Oh come on, you must have done something while I was at work."

Y/n thought for a moment, reflecting on her day. She looked around the open apartment, glancing at the kitchen. Her gaze went back to Edward.

"Well, I did some chores!" Y/n smiled.

Edward looked at her, stroking her hair briefly. Again, he made sure not to touch her in any intimate way. A kind smile was on his face.

"That's great! I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. Did you do anything else?" He cooed.

"Uh, not really..." She blinked harshly.

Edward watched carefully as she got off of his lap, sitting on the couch. He let it play out, knowing what was going on. She was feeling better. She was feeling more secure. So, the age regression was not really necessary any longer. Sometimes y/n had control over when she did it, and sometimes she didn't. Edward had guessed that today was one of the times she couldn't control it. It wasn't like she became a totally different person in it, not at all. She just regressed to a younger age. She was still herself, though. Y/n stared at the T.V for a little while. Edward gave her time to adjust, smiling at her when she looked back at him.

"You let go of my hand, you fucker." She glared.

Edward groaned, throwing his head back on the couch. He threw up his hands in defeat. Y/n smiled as he covered his eyes with his palms.

"Oh for the love of..."

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes as she cuddled up next to him. He smirked, hooking his arm over her shoulders. She could feel his heartbeat as her ear was against his chest. It rose and fell with every breath he took.

"I'm messing with you, babe. I know you didn't mean to." She said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He joked.

Edward held her close to him, planting a kiss on her cheek. Y/n hummed in peace as she closed her eyes. The sleepiness she felt earlier was creeping back into her body. But, a flapping noise caught her attention. She sat up instantly, grabbing the collar of Edward's shirt tightly, making his eyes widen in surprise.

"Jesus, I said I'm sorry!" He held up his hands in defense.

"What? No, not that! Shh!" Y/n whispered.

Edward went quiet, pausing the T.V. The two of them listened closely, the flapping noise was faint and muffled. Y/n's eyes lit up, poking Edward on the shoulder and motioning towards the window. His mouth formed an 'o' as he slowly got up from the couch. Y/n and him treaded silently toward the window, pulling aside the curtains and looking at the fire escape. Lo and behold, two pigeons sat on the metal landing, cuddled up next to each other. She looked at Edward, a huge grin on her face. He smiled, watching the pigeons as his dimples formed on his cheeks.

"That's so us." She whispered.

"100%." He agreed.

Y/n looked up at Edward from her crouched over position. Dramatically, she stood up and grabbed his hands. He raised an eyebrow as she took a deep breath.

"Edward...will you ruffle my feathers and feed me your hotdogs?" Y/n asked softly.

He let out a little laugh.

"I genuinely can't tell if you're trying to make a sexual innuendo, a romantic joke, or if you're being serious."

"All three." She replied quickly.

"Hmm, I'm a little busy today. I can ruffle your feathers on Sunday, but the hotdog feeding will have to wait till Tuesday." He tutted, looking down at his watch.

"What's more important than ruffling my feathers and feeding me a hotdog?" She asked, a hand on her hip.

He scoffed, motioning towards the T.V. Replicating her sassiness, he placed a hand on his hip as well. God, he looked like a total nerd. It was adorable.

"Um, obviously binge watching an entire season of Forensic Files with my girlfriend. Which is you, by the way." He added at the end, cupping his mouth with his hand.

"Oh, that does sound pretty important. Man, that's really conflicting...all of those options sound so good." She sighed, tapping her foot on the ground.

"Can't decide, huh?" He asked.

She shook her head. Shrugging his shoulders, he lunged forward and grabbed her by the hips. With a lift of his knees, he slung y/n over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Y/n squealed, playfully hitting his back with her fists. Her legs flailed slightly as well.

"Edward Nashton! You put me down this instant!" Y/n ordered.

He walked over to the couch, sitting down on the long part of it as he spread open his legs slightly. Edward laid y/n between that space so she was facing the T.V. She turned her head to face him, eyes glaring hard. He pressed play, placing the remote back down as he widened his eyes at her in a playfully challenging way.

"There. I decided for you." He said, kissing her on the lips.

"Pfft, you're lucky you're a cutie." Y/n scoffed.

He chuckled, rubbing her arms as he watched the show. Y/n sighed happily, resting her head against his chest. Edward leaned down to her ear, whispering in it.

"Do you want pizza for dinner?"

"Edward, if you get pizza, you're forgiven of all your past transgressions."

"We also have ice cream in the freezer for dessert." He added.

"I think I love you." She said.

"Wow, that's pretty cool. It's almost like we've been best friends for nearly 9 years and are dating each other." He said, dialing the pizza place on his phone.

"Yeah, some corny rom-com bullshit like that." Y/n yawned, watching the T.V.

"Like Pretty Woman?" He asked.

"Well, I'm not a sex worker. So, not really."

"13 Going On 30?"

"Edward, we're not 30. And, I did not get covered in magical glitter as a 13 year old. So, again, a no. Although, I do love that movie." She chuckled.

"Clueless?"

"Fuck I love that movie too. Still doesn't apply though. Are you just listing all the rom-coms you know?" Y/n asked, turning around to face him with an eyebrow raised.

He looked at her silently for a moment. His eyes narrowed in thought. Slowly, he brought his hand up, pointing at her.

"I've got it! 50 Shades of Grey."

"Edward, I swear I'm going to choke you."

"See! We're already relating to the movie!" He smiled.

"EDWA-"

He covered her mouth as the call started. Y/n bit his hand the entire time he placed the order, making him look at her in confusion and amusement. Once he hung up, he removed his hand from over her mouth.

"My hand is not food."

"It's not a gag either." She retorted.

"You're making us sound more and more like 50 Shades of Grey." Edward chuckled.

"Well, you're not a rich dude who made me sign a sex contract. Thank God for that."

"Whatever. I know what rom-com we are." He stated proudly.

"Oh really? What?" Y/n asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The Office. You're Pam. I'm Jim." He said, doing finger guns at her.

"Edward...that's...literally the most perfect answer. Not really a rom-com, but it's a great answer. I also would have accepted Pinkie Pie and Cheese Sandwich from My Little Pony."

"Shit, that's a good answer too. Weird Al and My Little Pony was one of the greatest crossovers in history. Along with Lady Gaga in the show as well." He admitted.

"This. This is exactly why I'm dating you. You get me." She said, poking the tip of his nose.

"They also had a Walter White crossover in the show. That was fucking awesome." He chuckled.

"Holy shit, I forgot about that! Bless My Little Pony. Bless Breaking Bad." Y/n fake prayed.

"Do you think Walter and Jesse explored each other's bodies?" He asked.

"Christ, Edward what the hell?"

Sighing, she stood up and started to walk away from the couch. Edward lurched forward and grabbed her hips, pulling her back onto his lap.

"Nah uh, you're not going anywhere!" He said, attacking her neck with kisses.

"Let me go you psychopath!" She squealed.

"Not until you give me your answer!" He said, kissing all over her face and neck.

"IT'S OBVIOUSLY A YES!"

He pulled away, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Obviously! There was sexual tension and it was heavy." He stated.

"Honestly, I don't blame Walter. If I was around that fucking...meth head, homeless looking...oh boy..." She shook her head.

"Oh? Do I need to be worried?" He asked cautiously.

"No, I'd just simply slap him around, waterboard him, and then give him a big ol' kiss." She shrugged.

"Hmm, ok. Well, that's totally normal. How about we never let you near any water while around me?" He suggested.

"I'm not going to waterboard you, Edward." She scoffed.

"Well, that's a relief. You're still a little weird for wanting to slap him around though." He added.

"That's funny coming from you seeing as how last night yo-"

"Ok, yeah haha very funny. Shhh." He teased, kissing her on the forehead.

"Mhm, that's what I thought."

"Yeah, you're real clever. Now, let's watch Forensic Files." He chuckled, stroking her hair.

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