Irl DreamSMP oneshots

We have all the time in the world, Sunshine, just relax (Crimeboys)

This oneshot may contain inappropriate language and/or sensitive scenes.
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Side note — raise your hand if you've been keeping up and loving the QSMP ✋
I have not experienced a panic attack or have a panic disorder, so I apologise if this is represented wrong.
Requested by: crimeboysgod
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Warnings — panic attacks and emetophobia
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Content creators — Tommyinnit and Wilbur Soot
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The uneven beats of his heart should've been a sign for Tommy to stop streaming, but he talked it up to the intenseness of the game at hand. The way he began sweating should've been a sign for Tommy to stop streaming, but he blamed it on the broken air conditioner. Every sign there could have possibly been that he was in the midst of having a panic attack, he had an excuse for.

So he ignored it.

He ignored the way his mouth remained dry no matter how much water he drank. He ignored the way his leg bounced, and his hand shook as he moved the mouse. He ignored his pounding heart and the breathlessness that came with it. He ignored it all.

He had never meant to ignore the signs, rather he always made sure that he noticed them. He's only ever had a panic attack in a public setting once or twice, and the experience scared him more than the actual panic attack did. Luckily, Wilbur had always been there when he had one, he was never alone. But sometimes he got too invested, he got too focused on something and all of a sudden, his brain couldn't feel for the signs. Sometimes was when he was streaming, more often than not he got stuck in the game, putting all his attention and focus into it, and that's all it took. He accidently ignored it.

He ignored it, but his chat didn't.

As he played through the game, he was faced with nausea and dizziness. His eyes blurred and the world swirled around him, his video game twisting in every which way before his eyes, but he didn't acknowledge it. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to see better, and it worked to some extent.

His speech stuttered in a way that no one would realise unless they were paying close attention; his speech stuttered in a way that chat could definitely tell. Chat knew, but not him. Of course, they didn't know the extent of the situation, but they were smart enough to pick up on something wrong.

Only when Tommy flicked his eyes to chat did he realise, he realised he was having a panic attack, only twenty minutes too late. He paused the game and stared at the chat for a minute, letting every feeling finally sink it.

The way his body trembled with no apparent reason, how he had been panting without knowing it, how his vision blurred and twisted, how he felt light-headed, how sweat beaded down his forehead - he noticed everything.

Fear held over his head, his heart pumping as if he ran up a flight of stairs. He felt scared. Scared was a normal feeling for him like being happy was. Being scared was a common occurrence, one that he, more times than not, was never alone for. When he was scared, there was one person who was always there, Wilbur. Wilbur was always there. And to his relief, Wilbur was there at that moment. Not in Tommy's office, but the one across, he knew that because he had left Wilbur to edit the new 'Sorry boys' video while he streamed.

Tommy's heart pumped in his ears and his bottom lip trembled out of fright, he shakily looked back into the camera before swallowing the lump in his throat and clearing his voice. His took a deep, shaky breath and began to speak.

"Al- alright boys, this'll be... this'll be the end of the stream, hope you enjo- enjoyed and I'll see you next time," he shakily saluted, giving probably his most half-assed outro he'd ever done.

As his camera light flickered off, his first instinct was to find Wilbur. He shakily rose from his chair, taking deep breaths out his nose to reduce the panting. The nausea and dizziness came back in full swing as he managed to stand up, instantly sending him back into the desk where he steadied himself.

Suddenly, breathing through his nose wasn't enough. He trembled and shook, he panted and wheezed, his vision twisted, and his stomach churned. His mind no longer thought straight, thoughts twisted and twirled through his mind, and all Tommy could catch was fear. He gasped for air and threw himself forwards towards the door.

His eyes widened with fright, and he felt like he was dying. He managed to get ahold of the door handle and burst the open. There he collapsed, he fell to his knees and gasped for air as his body trembled uncontrollably. He couldn't do anything besides experience the overwhelming amounts of fear. His mind was a daze and his stomach churned; he knew he needed someone to help him overcome the panic attack; there was no way he was going to throw up onto the carpet.

His slammed his eyes shut and took deep breath after deep breath, though it didn't do much besides give him control over his breathing, it was enough. "Wilbur!" He yelled out, quickly followed by a short coughing fit, curtesy of his dry throat. He fluttered his eyes open and while there were only swirls, he could make out a figure of brown rushing towards him.

"Tommy?!" Wilbur shrieked, sliding onto the floor next to him and holding him up. Tommy could only hum which was more like a wheeze than anything. Wilbur shuffled him around, so Tommy rested his back on his brother's chest. It was comforting, Tommy remembered.

His head laid back on Wilbur's shoulder as he panted, eyes blurred over. His bottom lip trembled, and tears swelled in his eyes, he felt like he was dying - he felt suffocated and overwhelmed. He subconsciously lifted his arm up and searched around for something - something that was unknown until Wilbur's larger hand latched onto his.

"Hey, it's- it'll be okay, don't cry," Wilbur tried to reassure, holding Tommy as close as he possibly could to his chest. "Follow my breathing, alright? As I release, you release," he instructed, squeezing Tommy's hand comfortingly. And Tommy did.

With every exhale, Tommy's stomach followed Wilbur's in deflating. With every inhale, Tommy's stomach followed Wilbur's in inflating. Soon enough, Tommy was no longer following, and his pants and wheezes turned into steady breathing. Tommy breathed a deep sigh in relief and flickered his eyes open. He winced, his head pounded with a headache and his vision was still fogged over, but it was better than suffocating.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Wilbur asked softly, bringing Tommy back down to lay on his chest as he tried to sit up. If Tommy wasn't domed with a headache, he would've rolled his eyes at how well Wilbur knew him. Tommy was pretty sure if he was to stand up, the poor carpet would've paid for it.

Tommy hummed, "Just a head'che," he slurred, bringing a hand to his forehead with a groan.

"Keep your eyes closed then, no need to get up," Wilbur hummed, covering Tommy's eyes so he'd be forced to rest.

"Got th'ngs to do," Tommy tried to wack the hand away, but Wilbur didn't budge.

"I know for a fact you don't. We have all the time in the world, Sunshine, just relax."

Tommy sighed in surrender, dumping his arm back to his side. He heard Wilbur hum a laugh, but nothing else was said. He stayed in his brother's arms without complaint, and if he was honest with himself, he felt safe. It wasn't long until he fell asleep as Wilbur hummed a quiet tune.
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Sorry if this sounds a little rushed