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#or how many time did he wake up from a nightmare and then quietly crying himself to sleep
steddiewithachance · 11 months
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"You Should Date My Nephew"
"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.
Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.
433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.
Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted home. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.
The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.
"H'llo? Eds?"
"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.
"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"
"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this.
But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.
"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.
"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."
"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."
"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.
And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish grin and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the house, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.
So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.
"The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.
"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.
"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.
"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."
And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.
"Hey, Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.
But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.
"Here, Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.
"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.
"Well yeah, of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.
By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.
On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?
He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.
"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.
"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.
"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.
A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.
"You should date my nephew."
Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.
"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.
"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.
"What, you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.
"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"
"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.
"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.
"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."
"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.
"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.
"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the Munson's place. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.
"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the house which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.
Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.
"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"
Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.
"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.
"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"
"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.
"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.
"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."
And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."
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wraith-posts · 3 months
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nightmares - dean winchester
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Summary: Dean wakes you up from a nightmare.
CONTENT: feminine descriptors, mixed POV, demonic possession, angst, hurt/comfort, post hell!dean, cuddling
word count: 935 (est reading time 4 mins.)
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You toss and turn in bed, limbs tangling in the worn motel duvet. Images flash through your head, reminding you of pain and torture and being trapped in your own mind. It had been months since Sam drove the demon out of your body, but its fingerprints lingered in the corners of your mind, ready to creep out as soon as you closed your eyes to fall asleep.
The worst part of the nightmares is the intense feeling of anxiety and fear it induces in you. You feel like you're really back in that time, watching yourself commit atrocities you could never have dreamed of on your own.
You try to scream at the images to stop, but as in most dreams, your voice is gone. That's how it was during the possession. Your consciousness screamed for control, for mercy, but the demon's unrelenting cruelty pushed you deep into the recesses of your own mind.
You scream again, mouth hanging wide as you voicelessly plead for the horror to end.
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Dean sat up slowly, groggily trying to make out the neon red numbers on the digital clock on the nightstand above him. He was sleeping on the floor, as per usual when they could only afford a room with two beds. His self-sacrificing nature wouldn't let you sleep on the floor, and Sam had gotten injured on the last hunt, so it wasn't a question.
He heard a low groan from your bed, followed by a fabric-laden thrashing of limbs. In the dark, he could barely make out your body shuddering beneath the blankets, head tossing and chest rising and falling quickly with each belabored breath you took.
He knew the feeling. Hell, nightmares from his time downstairs still plagued him from time to time.
Dean stood and went to your side, bending over you to touch your shoulder. "Hey," he whispered, giving you a gentle shake. "Y/N. Wake up."
You didn't respond, so he shook you again, a little harder. "Y/N!" he hissed.
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You wake with a gasp, flying upright, heart hammering in your chest. Hands shoot out to hold you and you struggle against their grip.
"Hey, hey," you hear a familiar voice whisper. "It's me. You're okay."
You blink rapidly as a pair of eyes slowly becomes clear to you in the dark, meeting your terrified gaze. Dean.
You heave a relieved sigh and lean forward, dropping your head on his shoulder. He takes you into his arms easily, all pretense of not caring about you forgotten.
"Jesus Christ," you whisper into his shoulder.
Dean rubs your back comfortingly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"Better than what I was seeing."
He doesn't press, but lets you relax into his body as your heart rate slowly returns to normal.
"God, Dean," you say quietly after a while. "Does it ever stop?"
"No," he replies ruefully, one hand now stroking your hair. "I wish I could say it did."
Tears prick at your eyes as memories come flooding into your mind again. "I can't forget the things I did," you manage. "I can't ever unsee-"
Dean takes you by the shoulders and holds you away from him. "That wasn't you, ya hear me? How many times do I have to tell you it wasn't your fault?"
"I know, but it was still me, Dean." The tears are threatening to escape now, but you hold them back. You will not cry in front of this man, who has gone through so much worse. "These hands killed people."
Dean sighs, pulling you back into him. "I know. It's hard to deal, but you gotta try."
You shudder, tears finally rolling down your face and dampening his shirt. "I'm not... strong like you."
"I know you can do it," he whispers, hand finding your hair again, tangling in the strands. "You're stronger than you think. I don't know a lot of people who were conscious for that long during a possession and can still form a coherent thought, much less continue to hunt down these sons of bitches like you do."
You sniffle, turning your head into his neck. Deep in your heart of hearts, you know he's right.
"I know it's hard," Dean continues. "But if anyone can beat this, it's you. You're one badass lady." He chuckles, trying to lighten your mood.
Your heart melts at this. "Thanks," you whisper, tears subsiding.
"Think you can go back to sleep?" he asks gently.
"Not really," you say glumly. You pull away and hesitate deeply before asking in a small voice, "Can you... stay? With me?" Your eyes refuse to meet his. He's going to tell you to suck it up, you know it.
"Yes."
Your eyes flit up to his, surprised and relieved. Dean looks at you warmly, gently, before getting up and raising the covers, nudging you to the side as he lays down next to you.
You face him, feeling his hand travel up your hip and stop on your waist. A surge of bravery and emotion hits you, and you lean forward, leaving a gentle kiss on his lips. When you back away, he looks surprised, and for a moment you fear you've just done something that will make your friendship irrevocably damaged.
But he just pulls you into him, kissing your forehead and resting his chin atop your head, pressing you into his large body comfortingly.
You feel relieved for the millionth time that night. No more words need to be said. You fall asleep like that, nestled in his arms, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.
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prying-pandora666 · 8 months
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Do you ever think about the characters when they’re alone?
You know, the things the narrative pretty clearly communicates but which we never actually see?
Like how many nights Zuko must’ve laid on his cot in his ship and cried, missing his home, his family, his bed, his life… How many times he wrapped himself up in a blanket and pretended it was his mom holding him again. How many times he woke up from a dream where he’s back home and unburned only to wake up on a cold, hard metal ship, uncomfortable and shivering, hearing the groans of strained metal. Alone. You have no Nation. No place you could settle down. Everyone hates you but none more than your own homeland. What if Uncle dies? Or leaves too? What then? What will he do?
Or how many times Katara dreamed that her mother dying was just a nightmare! That it was all a dream and mom is still alive, dad is still home, her childhood didn’t get cut short. How many times Katara must’ve woken up and sat up looking for mom only to find she’s in the middle of nowhere, in a bedroll, surrounded by other kids she feels responsible for. How many times she cried by herself, wishing she had someone to “mom” her the way she does for everyone else. How often did Sokka have nightmares? How often he feared the Fire Nation showing up and killing them all. That he alone would have to stand up and fight them. How many nightmares of being burned alive, failing, and then watching his tribe suffer the same fate because he couldn’t protect them. How often did he cry out for Hakoda quietly, muffling his words into his pillow, wishing for dad to protect him again?
Surely Toph had her share of night terrors. They’d be dark because she doesn’t know sight, but surely there’d be sounds and a sensation of being trapped, locked in, like in a tiny metal cage. The kind where she discovered metalbending. How many times did she cower and flinch at night, dreaming that metalbending really wasn’t possible? That she’d spend the rest of her life trapped, forced to be an isolated, beautiful bobble, seen but not heard, never allowed out of her prison again?
How often did Aang wake up to the sound of Gyatso calling him, only to sit up and realize it was a dream? His people are dead. His entire way of life is dead. It’s never coming back. No, really. It seems too horrible to be true, but it is. They’re all dead. You are all that remains of your culture and you’re only 12. You can’t possibly know enough to preserve it. What are you going to do? You want to ask Gyatso. You can’t. He’s dead. He’s been dead for 100 years. He’s not even close to having been alive. And yet he feels like he was just here…
And then there’s Azula. Whether living in Ozai’s palace and forced to live every day in anxiety - forced to be perfect in every way - because you know that no one in this world loves you. The only thing keeping you from being the new Zuko is your usefulness. You keep father’s favor by performing, no matter how horrible or traumatic the task, hoping it’ll finally be enough to earn his love and you can finally know what it’s like to be cherished and held and wanted the way mom loved Zuko. Or… when she’s in the abusive asylum. Chi blocked so she’s immobile. Stuffed into a straitjacket. Mistreated and unable to defend yourself. You can’t even tell anyone because no one comes to visit until your brother needs something from you. You cry only in the dead of night, muffling your sobs into the mat you sleep on, brushing away your tears with its coarse fibers since you can’t even use your hands to move your bangs out of your eyes. Never show weakness. You know that much.
How often did they all dream of a warm and safe place where they’d be loved and protected? I hope they all got it in the end, LOK be damned. Every last one.
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steddieas-shegoes · 8 months
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If you're still accepting requests:
Steve has an embarrassing secret (regularly wet the bed as a teenager or something equally embarrassing) and Eddie and the kids find out and they make a few too many jokes about it, upsetting Steve. Eddie wises up and apologises and comforts Steve, and eventually gets the kids to apologise as well.
I hope it's okay I went a slightly different route for the embarrassing thing, but it just seemed like it fit more with me making Steddie happen😂 I also included Robin because I fully believe she was the first and only person to know about it since he was a child and she's super overprotective of him because of it. - Mickala ❤️
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Eddie watched as Robin knocked Steve’s shoulder, effectively waking him up from the very brief doze he’d managed to slip into.
He wouldn’t think much of it except for the fact that it’s happened three times tonight.
If Steve’s that tired, she should just let him sleep. It’s his house, after all.
But she doesn’t.
No one else seems to notice, which is alarming on its own.
For a bunch of kids used to having to be observant about shit, they sure do seem oblivious to this. Maybe because they feel safe here? Maybe because they just assume Robin and Steve are weird?
When it happens a fifth time, Eddie calls them out.
“Why don’t you let the man sleep, Robbie?”
The kids all turn to look at him, then at Robin, who looks at them like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“I just know he doesn’t wanna sleep yet,” she shrugged, clearly lying.
“Oh, c’mon. You would have given up by now if that was all,” Eddie pushed.
“It’s nothing, Eddie. Drop it,” Steve said, more serious than the situation could have possibly called for.
“Is it nightmares? Because you know we all get them sometimes,” Lucas asked.
“Nope.” Steve slapped his thighs as he starts to get up. “Anyone need a drink?”
“Is it embarrassing?” Eddie asked, finally realizing why Steve and Robin may be trying to avoid it.
“Nope,” Robin said.
Steve remained silent.
“What is it? You snore really loud? You talk in your sleep?” Mike asked, finally appearing to be interested in the conversation.
“I suck my thumb! There! You happy now?” Steve was bright red, and looked just irritated enough that Eddie considered not making a joke.
“Wait, like…when babies do it?” Max asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you have pacifiers, too?” Mike asked around a loud laugh.
Everyone giggled except for Robin, who was watching Steve with worried eyes.
“That explains why you always pretended to be super cold at sleepovers. You were hiding that you were sucking your thumb!” Dustin put together.
“Doesn’t that fuck up your teeth? Did you pay to have them fixed?” Eddie asked.
Part of him was genuinely curious, part of him was teasing.
But he watched as Steve’s face did something new, something he never wanted to see it do again.
He looked hurt, but more than that, he looked scared.
Why would he look scared of them?
Before he could say anything to get the kids to stop, Steve was walking away and Robin was getting up to follow him, sending them all a glare.
But the kids didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t think it was as serious as it was.
Eddie stood up and put his hands on his hips, not thinking about how much he must look like Steve in that moment.
“We fucked up. It’s okay to tease friends sometimes about stuff, but clearly Steve is really self-conscious about this and isn’t okay with it. When he gets back, you’re all gonna apologize. If you don’t, you leave. I’m gonna go check on him,” Eddie sighed.
The kids were silent as Eddie walked to the staircase and up the stairs.
As he got closer to Steve’s room, he could hear him crying and Robin talking quietly to him. He couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, but he knew she was trying to reassure him.
Eddie knocked once on the door, hoping they’d let him in, hoping they’d realize that he wasn’t coming to hurt Steve anymore than he already had.
Robin opened the door, shielding Steve from view.
“What?” she asked him, trying to hide the sounds of Steve sniffling on his bed.
“I just wanted to apologize. I’ll leave after if he doesn’t wanna talk,” Eddie said quietly. He knew the kids were probably listening downstairs and he didn’t think they needed to be a part of this conversation.
“I don’t think he wants to see any of you yet,” Robin said, somewhat apologetically, like she knew Eddie meant it, but also wanted to protect her platonic soulmate.
“It’s fine, Robs,” Steve said from the bed, his voice completely broken.
Robin moved out of the way and let Eddie through, and when he looked at Steve curled up in bed, his heart broke.
Steve was always the strong one, always appeared confident even when the kids teased him about how much he cared about his hair or his lack of a date or his misuse of words.
Eddie had always loved that about him; That he could face anything with the confidence of a person who had never lost.
But this was different, and clearly he’d been so secretive about it for a reason.
“Can I sit with you for a second, Stevie?” Eddie asked, hoping Steve understood that he could say no if he wanted to. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure him into hearing an apology he wasn’t ready for.
Steve nodded, sniffling again as tears continued to fall from his eyes.
God, they really fucked up.
Eddie sat on the bed, watching as Robin left the room, silently having a conversation with Steve before closing the door behind her.
“I’m really sorry about the teasing. We should have realized that you didn’t want to make a big deal about it and stopped. No one actually thinks less of you because of something you can’t help, okay? Especially not me. I’m the last one to judge considering I still sleep with a stuffed animal every night,” Eddie admitted.
Steve lifted his head and looked at Eddie, lifting his hand to wipe at his nose.
It shouldn’t be as cute as it is, but Eddie’s already admitted to himself that he thinks everything Steve does is adorable.
“You do?” Steve asked.
“Yep. And, to make it even more embarrassing, I didn’t even have it since birth or anything. Wayne got it for me when I moved in with him when I was 10. He knew I was having trouble sleeping and thought it would help.”
“Did it?”
“Yep. I don’t always cuddle with him, but he’s always in my bed,” Eddie gave him a small smile.
“Does anyone know?” Steve rested his head back down on the pillow, closing his eyes.
“Just Wayne and you,” Eddie said, looking down at his lap.
“Thanks for telling me.”
Eddie looked over at Steve, who still had tears dripping from his eyes, though much slower.
Eddie reached out and used his thumb to slowly wipe them away.
Steve closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.
“Is Robin the only one who knows?” Eddie whispered, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but wanting to know a bit more.
“Other than my parents and Tommy, yeah. But I think Tommy thought it stopped by the time we got to high school. But um, my parents never liked it much. And I guess when it didn’t stop when I was in elementary school, they decided to try to make it stop. I remember them making me wear gloves, and soaking it in vinegar, and my mom even sprayed hairspray on it at one point to try to get me to stop, but it still happened. My dad refused to even talk about it once I hit middle school. And then they stopped coming home so I guess they figured it was my problem to deal with. Tommy pretended not to notice, which I guess is better than teasing me about it.” Steve sighed. “And then I fell asleep at Robin’s after Starcourt and it happened and she asked me about it. So now, she makes sure I don’t fall asleep in front of anyone so no one else finds out.”
Eddie nodded along, hating Steve’s parents even more, and somehow hating Tommy slightly less for at least not making Steve feel bad about it.
“It’s just a comfort thing, yeah? You don’t do it consciously.”
“Yeah. Robin said it’s something about oral fixation, which sounds dirty and I’ve told her a million times-”
Eddie smirked as he leaned in to kiss Steve on the lips.
It took Steve a moment to start kissing him back, but when he did, he let out a small sigh against Eddie’s lips and placed his hands in Eddie’s hair.
“Gotta say, I didn’t really think sucking my thumb in my sleep was a turn on,” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips when they parted, resting their foreheads against each other.
“Literally everything you do is a turn on for me. But besides that, I just wanted to kiss you. That okay?”
“Yeah. Uh. It’s great. Is that something you’d wanna do again or…?”
Eddie leaned in to kiss him again instead of answering.
A knock on the door interrupted them, but Eddie didn’t move off the bed, just placed his hand on Steve’s hand by his head.
“Yeah?” he called to whoever was knocking.
“Can we come in?” Dustin asked through the door.
Eddie looked to Steve, who looked unsure.
“You don’t have to let them in, but I think they want to apologize,” Eddie whispered.
“Come in!” Steve called, though he didn’t move or try to make Eddie move his hand.
He seemed to want, maybe even need, the comforting touch.
The kids all piled into the room, all of them looking like they’d been through another round of Upside Down shenanigans.
“We just wanted to say we’re sorry about the teasing. El told us about how she started sucking her thumb when she first started living with Hopper because of all the changes and how hard it was to stop. We didn’t mean to take it that far and hurt your feelings.”
Will must have been the one chosen to speak for all of them, but they all added in their own apologies quietly when he finished.
“Thanks guys. It’s okay. I know it’s weird so I get it,” Steve said, still sounding too sad for Eddie’s taste.
“Hey, no. We all have weird things. It doesn’t give anyone a free pass to push boundaries,” Eddie said, giving the kids a look.
“Eddie’s right,” Dustin said. “I know what it’s like to be made fun of for stuff you can’t control and it sucks, even when it’s people you know don’t actually mean any harm. We’re really sorry.”
“It’s alright, guys. Thanks for saying you’re sorry. Is it okay if we have movie night tomorrow instead, though?”
The kids all agreed quickly, and Robin appeared by the door to tell them to call their rides and get the hell out.
She shot Eddie a look that said he’d be getting a very specific type of talk the next time she saw him, but she didn’t say anything as she kissed the top of Steve’s head and said her goodbyes.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m alright,” Steve said to Eddie, who was already slipping his shoes off so he could get comfy in bed with Steve.
“I’ll leave if you want me to, but I think I’d really like to stay.”
Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the lamp in the corner and shut it off. It was still early, barely past dinner time, but he was exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions and not sleeping very well the night before.
“You can stay. But. Well, you know. It’s gonna happen,” Steve was blushing, but Eddie wasn’t gonna let him be embarrassed about it.
“I know. Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” Eddie shrugged.
“Okay.”
Eddie got in bed, pulling the comforter and sheets over him, and nestling against Steve’s back, wrapping his arms around his chest and tugging him close.
He felt Steve relax completely against him and he couldn’t help but smile against his shoulder, letting his lips linger there in a soft kiss.
It didn’t take long for Steve to fall asleep, Eddie could tell when he did from the way his breath started puffing out slower, his grip on Eddie’s arm going slack.
He soaked in the moment, let himself think about being here, holding Steve in his arms, kissing him.
And then he felt Steve’s hand that was laced with his lift up, and Eddie’s thumb was in Steve’s mouth before he could do anything to stop it.
He wouldn’t have stopped it anyway.
If this was what Steve needed, he would be here every night.
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geekywritings · 11 months
Text
“Can you hold me for a while?”
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You and Cal have been travelling together for a while, with something growing between you. During a cozy moment, some bottled up feelings start coming to the surface.
Fluff, basically cute fluff.
________
Nights used to be the worst. During the day, it was easy to busy yourself and keep out any unwanted thoughts, but once you retired, they would inevitably creep back up. The sounds of guns. The voices of people you trusted giving the order to shoot you on the spot. The last words your Master had ever spoken to you: “Run. You have to run. You have to live.”
Whenever these memories invaded your mind, you found yourself shivering, crying even and unable to rest at all. For the longest time, you thought it would never stop.
But it did.
When he showed up.
Crossing paths with Cal had been the most unexpected thing, but a most welcome one. You weren’t alone anymore! Together, you began fighting the Empire in your own ways, growing closer and closer over the months and years you passed together.
When had this camaraderie become romantic? It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment you had fallen for your fellow Jedi and survivor. But it hardly mattered when it started. The only thing you care about is that these newfound feelings give you a new sense of comfort and hope. And from the way he acts around you, you suspect that Cal might harbor similar feelings. Yet it hangs between you, unspoken and unseen, but clearly palpable. Like the Force itself.
Clearly, your thoughts are straying and you give up on the report you have been trying to write for the past hour to keep you from facing the night. There is no point in trying to force the summary of your last mission into words, so you turn off the communicator and begin heading toward your bedroom.
Suddenly you stop, eyes going toward the other door instead. Cal had retired only about half an hour ago… As quietly as possible, you slide open the door to his quarters.
“Cal? Are you asleep?”, you ask into the darkness of the room.
“Not anymore.”, comes the sleepy reply from the bed.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” You really hadn’t.
“It’s fine. What’s up?” He tries to sound more awake, but fails miserably.
“Can you hold me for a while?”, you ask, getting to the point directly. It isn’t the first time you come to him with such a request. The first few times, he had flustered and hesitated. Now, there is no pause before he says: “Of course. Come here.”
Taking off your boots and jacket, you climb into bed next to him, his strong arms surrounding your frame and pulling you to him. Instantly, the familiar feeling of peace and safety settles over you. The one thing that can keep away the nightmares and bad memories.
“Just for a few minutes.”, you mumble, trying to soak up as much of this moment as possible.
That’s how it always goes. A few minutes in his arms before you return to your room, falling asleep with more ease. But not tonight.
“How about forever?”, Cal asks, his voice steady and confident.
“What?”, your question is merely a whisper.
“Stay here. With me.” As if to underline his words, his grip around you tightens.
Is that your heartbeat or his that is pounding in your ears?
“Alright…”, you manage to say, cuddling into him, as you grip his shirt. You feel Cal relax, only just now realizing that he had tensed up in the first place, while waiting for your reply.
He says nothing more, but just closes his eyes. You follow his example and soon you are both asleep. The first of many nights, where you can finally dream about something happy.
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summerlovingbaby · 1 year
Text
Accidents Happen
tw: self harm and mentions of attempted suicide
Hitoshi heard whimpering coming from one of the spare bedroom at the end of the hall. He was on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, because the air had grown fairly hot in the night.
He remembered when he felt like that. When the day felt so bad, and the nightmares felt so real that it made him sick. He quietly pushed open the door, careful not to make it creak, careful not to wake the two other adults just down the hall.
He smelled a smell that smelled all to family and brought back to not so distant painful memories. He felt bad for her. He had been in the girls' position not so long ago, and he remembered how each painful moment felt.
He kneeled on the side of her bed and debated waking her up. This was probably the most peaceful sleep she had in a long time, despite the fact that she was having a violent nightmare.
“Y/N.” he gently shook her awake, causing her to sit straight up in the bed, neck hairs standing up. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
“Hitoshi?” she quietly questioned, wiping the sweat off her brow. She caught the look on his face and assumed the worst. She tried to get out of bed, but her legs felt stuck to the uncomfortable plastic-like sheets. “Did something happen? Do I have to go back?”
“No..no nothing like that-”
“Is it Eri, is she okay?” she pleaded.
“She’s fine.” he urged. “It’s okay, everything is okay, I swear.” he whispered. 
He watched her face settle into a mix of stress and content, and watched her muscles grow loose. Her eyes fell on the spiderman comforter, and she wiggled her nose trying to ignore the presentiant smell. Then she looked at him, waiting for him to speak, he didn’t know what to say, so thought about what Aizawa said to him, not so many months ago.
“ I have to tell you something, and I don’t want you to be embarrased, or worried, or feel bad about it, okay?” he watched her nod sligtly. “ I think you may have had an accident.”
“ Accident?” her eyebrows moved together and her mouth formed into a line confused, before her eyes widened in realization and she grabbed the egde of the comfoter and through it off the bed, landing on the floor right next to Shinso, who payed it no mind. “ Oh god.” Her hand flew to her mouth, as she tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, only for her mind to draw a blank. “ Oh my god. I’m so sorry-”
“There’s no reason to be sorry. It was a accident.”
“ I wet the bed.” she muttered to herself. Like she was still trying to get herself to believe it. 
She had been through so much, and yet she was still behaving like a child, not only that but she had managed to embarrass herself into a person that she desperately wanted to be her friend.
“ I wet the bed.” she repeated. 
“ It’s okay, it was an accident.” Hitoshi muttered, he saw her trying hard to cry.
“I’m sorry-”
“Please don’t apologize.” he said, he really wanted to stroke her hair and rub her back, but was afraid to touch her without asking. “ It was accident. Accidents happen some time, things like this happen some time.”
“ I wet the bed.” she said again, her eyes widened as tears fell freely down her face, “ I’ll clean it up, I swear. I will-”
“ It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry. That doesn’t matter.” He spoke, his voice was calm. He knew the melting pot of emotions that she had to be feeling. It was clear that she was upset, but even then she was worried about fixing the mess that she made.
“ I’ll clean it up I promise, and I can sleep on the couch-”
“ Don’t worry about that right now. How about you go to the bathroom and clean up a little, and I’ll take care of this-”
“ You don’t have to-”
“ I insisit.”
“ You can’t tell him, you can’t-”
“ I won’t, I promise. Now go shower, I’ll be here when you get back.”
20 minutes later, she came back with a fresh pair of pajamas, and a hanful of dirty ones. Hitoshi had given her a pair, and they were much to big, the t shirt stopping mid thigh, and the boxer shorts hanging of her hips. The socks were mismatched in a unironic way. It would have been an unusally funny sight, if it weren’t for the fact that it was clear that she had been crying in the shower.
“ I didn’t know where to-”
“ It’s okay, I’ll take them on my way out.” he whispered. “ I gave you an extra blanket, in case you got cold.”He was always cold when he first moved in. The doctors guessed it was the years of malnutrition and about every diffancy known to man. “ Bed’s all yours.” he motioned to the bed. 
“ You won’t tell him-”
“ No.” he spoke plainly. Like he was talking to a mirror. He would know exactly what she felt like, he was in her position not more than a year ago. “ Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him-”
“ Yes.” she said quickly. “ Please.”
“ Is there a reason?”
“ I don’t want him to get rid of me, if I’m too much trouble he’ll get rid of me.” she spoke, it was a manic mutter. His face softened, he knew that desperation, that need to be perfect that want to stay safe, she wanted to be safe. That need to not be too much, to not be sent away.
Hitoshi carefully walked towards her, and pointed, before asking if he could have a seat. Y/N hesitated before nodding softly and looking away. She was tired, that itself was clear, the prominent eyebags gave her away.
“ He won’t get rid of you, I promise.”
“ How do you know, when you’re so...” she searched her mind for the word. Settled on one, opened her mouth to speak, decided it was offensive and didn’t say anything else.
“ It’s okay, You can say it.”
“ Good. You’re so good.”
“When Aizawa had first taken me in I was.... I was alot like you.”
“ Broken?”
Hitoshi shook his head and extended his hand to the bedside tissue, so he could wipe the tears out of her face.
“ I was fine, but one night after Mr. Mic took me out to the store I saw my mothers husband. At the time I was fine. I was a bit scared, yeah, but I thought I was fine. But Aizawa ended up having to wake me up. Turns out I wet the bed. Right through the streets all over the matress.”
“ I hardly even know him and I really don’t want to disappoint him.”
“ I think he’ll be more happy that you reached out to him. He really just wants to help, y’know?”
“ I don’t want him to send me away.”
“ He won’t. I know he doesn’t seem like it, but he is very forgiving and kind. He just wants to help, y’know.” he spoke. Y/N seemed to burry herself in a bundle of inescapble slelf pity. “The first night I got her, I drunk all his alcohol threw up over his balcony before taking a knife from his kitchen and trying to kill myself.” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Y/N wanted to laugh, he always seemed so put together and calm. There is no way a boy like him, used to be so broken. So unfixable.
“ Yeah right.”
“See.” he pulled up the hem of his sleves and saw a long scar running along his wrist. Y/N’ s mouth fell open and she chewed on her bottom lip.
“But you seem so... okay.”
“ It took some time to get there, but I’m getting to be okay.” he shrugged. “ You’ll get there to.” he added. “ You’re doing better than I was, you haven’t thrown up over the balcony yet so.”
“ When did it stop?” she asked, looking up at staring at the wall. “ The bed wetting?”
“ I don’t remeber the day-”
“Why did it stop.”
“ I don’t know, they just did. It still happens sometimes, maybe once a month or so.” he whispered. “ Talking to him helped. He’s really good about that stuff. I know he doesn’t seem like it but he’s comforting in a weird way. He always knew how to make me feel better.”
“ I can’t-”
“ He won’t get rid of you.”
“ Becase it’s embarrasing, I’m ebarrased. I feel so pathetic, like a baby.”
“ I get it. Boy do I get it, but not talking about it, it only hurts you.”
“ Eri has never wet the bed-”
“ It’s a trauma response, a normal truma response that alot of people have.An that doesn’t make you any more pathetic, or give you any reason to be embarrased.”
“ I would be really embarrased if I threw up over the balcony.” she shrugged and glanced up to look for his approval to he smiling and bitting back a laugh.
“ Really funny.” he laughed. “ You’re really funny.”
Y/N wore a ghost of her smile as Hitoshi waved her goodbye and started to leave. He picked up the pile of laundry and made it halfway before she called out to him.
“ I’ll think about it. Talking to him I  mean.”
He nodded, that’s all he could ask of her was to think about getting help. Forcing her to talk would have been bad, so she planned on not going back to sleep, and thinking about it.
“ If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”
And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Y/N with a half smile, and thoughts of getting help.
P2
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slasherscream · 2 years
Text
Crazy Ass Boys Gang ft. killing the reader’s rapist
warnings: yandere behavior, mentions of rape/sexual assault - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
BILLY LOOMIS:
You tell him quietly in the moments after you pushed him away when you felt the heat of a make out session becoming too much for you.
He played it cool, but you could tell it was starting to get to him, the constant rejection the minute the two of you would inch your way towards sexual intimacy.
You don’t owe him an explanation. “No” is a full sentence, and he listens to you when you tell him to stop. That can be the end all be all of the interaction. But you want to tell him. You’ve been dating for months now and it’s weighing on you. The secret burns like acid in your throat.
It sits between the two of you in the most benign and tender of moments. It’s a bridge you want to cross over. You want to share the pain with him, with anyone.
So you tell him.
You watch him closely as the words fall from your lips. Every awful bit of what happened. Every grim detail. Once you start you can’t stop. You leave no room for questions or judgement. You want to tell it all, you want the truth to cleanse you.
At some point it doesn’t even feel like you’re talking to him. Or talking at all. You feel like you’re in a trance.
By the end of it you’re out of breath, chest tight and wound up.
You stare at one another. The truth sitting between you. Then you start to cry. The reality of your tears breaks Billy from the spell of immobility your words had on him.
He holds you for the rest of the night. Promises that nothing like this will ever happen to you again. Not as long as he’s breathing.
You fall asleep feeling safer than you did since the night it happened to you. You cling to him like a child clings to their safety blanket. As if the warmth of it will block out all the big bad things that go bump in the night.
Billy sneaks out while you’re sleeping. You told him everything. He knows exactly who hurt you and he knows exactly how to hurt them back.
The sound of the shower running is what wakes you up. You roll over to check your phone and see that’s it four in the morning. You walk numbly to the bathroom wondering why the hell Billy is even awake at this hour.
He’s peeling off a costume you’ve seen on the news. The Ghostface mask lays on the bathroom counter, it’s screaming white face smeared with blood.
“What the hell is going on, Billy?”
He crowds you against the door. Your heart is racing but you’re not scared. Even though he’s covered in blood and there’s only one explanation for it, you’re not scared. There’s a look on his face that’s so tender. Without a word you know where he’s been tonight and you know what he’s done.
He kisses you so gently it makes you start to cry.
“You told me a secret. It’s time I tell you mine.”
JOSH WASHINGTON:
Believe it or not Josh isn’t a violent person. What he is, is a protective one. He’s driven by love. Not by hate. Everything he’s ever done, no matter how wrong or misguided, or angry. It’s all been love.
Nothing can drive you to the edge faster.
When you call him sobbing in the middle of the night it makes his world go still. He’s back on the mountain, waiting for his sisters to walk out of the woods and laugh at him for being so worried. He’s at their funeral, staring at their “friends” who had the audacity to show their faces.
He’s stuck in the mountains, claws where his fingernails used to be and teeth cutting an inhuman, permanent grin into his face. He’s eating the rotting, cold meat of his own friends brought to him by his sister turned monster.
He wonders what else life could take from him. From you. 
He runs all the way to your apartment.
You’re bruised and bloody when you come to the door. Voice high and keening. Sobbing from so many different types of pain he doesn’t know how you’re still conscious. He holds you through it all.
He cries with you. He sings to you, the way he used to sing Hannah back to sleep after nightmares. Nothing helps. You fall asleep body still shaking and jerking from the force of your helpless sobbing.
Josh isn’t a monster.
But that night he hunts like one. He uses his claws like one. His teeth like one. He doesn’t swallow any of their disgusting, putrid flesh. Even the taste of their blood on his tongue makes him feel unclean. But the pain he’s inflicting is worth it all.
He would make himself into a monster a hundred times over if it would make you safe. If it would keep you happy.
It’s all over campus by the time you can bring yourself to pretend to be human instead of a walking, grieving wound. The only thing anyone can talk about. The murder of your rapist. Mauled beyond recognition, the killing seems more like the work of an animal than a person.
You and Josh don’t talk about it. You don’t need to.
All you know is that you’re safe, and as long as Josh is around, you always will be.
STU MACHER:  
He feels sick to his stomach. He actually asks if you’re fucking with him, it makes him so sick. But of course you’re not joking, you’re crying your eyes out. Holding yourself like if you just squeeze tight enough it might make the pain go away.
Stu wraps you in his arms so tight you can’t breathe.
He’s so overcome with anger he’s shaking. He can’t imagine how anyone could think they could hurt you and get away with it. Harm you and live.  He wishes he’d written it on your skin. That there’d be hell to pay if anyone put so much as a finger on you.
Now he’s stuck with the aftermath of not being there for you. Of not protecting you the moment you needed him most.
And he’s sorry. Sorrier then he’s ever been for anything. And he wonders if he’s being punished through you. Because what can hurt him, truly, except hurting you? 
When he kills them he’s not sure if it’s for you or him. It doesn’t bring him any pleasure. No matter how many hours he drags it out. No matter how much he makes them scream. No matter how many times he makes them say they’re sorry.
There’s still a sickness under his skin. Maybe there always will be now. He crawls into bed with you and forces himself not to cry as you sob against his chest.
JASON DEAN/JD:
From the moment he met you he knew that something awful had happened to you. Some people live with their pain written across their face. Their whole life story, plastered there for anyone to see.
You hide it well enough. You smile and you laugh. You have friends. You have hobbies. You have it all together.
But JD can see what everyone else can’t. What everyone else doesn’t want to see, maybe. You’re the pillar in so many people’s lives. People depend on you. Who do you depend on?
Before JD you didn’t think there was anyone strong enough to take all the weight of your suffering, and misery, and hate.
Every day you wake up so angry you don’t know how to breathe. But life goes on and no one has time for you to break down. You don’t have time for it. You’re so afraid of your life always centering around that one awful thing that you’d decided to ignore it the moment it happened to you.
You didn’t want anything to change. So nothing has. But there’s a hole in you that grows every day and it’s eating you alive.
When you tell JD you try and admit to it casually. But JD is like a black hole. There can be no insincerity in his presence. No pretense or acting. He demands honesty just by the way he looks at you. It makes you snap, and you cry for yourself for the first time in a long time.
The whole time you feel weak. You feel like nothing.
“Would you like to make them feel as small as you do?”
You don’t know what you’re agreeing to until you’re standing over them. They’re tied up, beaten within an inch of their life. They’re gagged, but you can hear their muffled begging. They want forgiveness. They have the nerve to ask for it.
JD puts a gun into your hands and lovingly helps you pull the trigger.
KEVIN KHATCHADOURIAN:
He stares at you for a long moment. His expression as blank as it always is when it’s just the two of you. It makes you squirm. You don’t know what you wanted from Kevin, of all people.
Now you just want him to say something.
“Kevin? Did you-”
“I heard you.”
He keeps watching you. There’s something about the look in his eyes that can’t be placed. You can never read him unless he allows you to, but there’s something about his expression that’s raw. Despite the apathy forever painted there. Something trying to break through that’s being ruthlessly crushed.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“I don’t want you to do anything.” You’re at a loss.
“Are you sure about that?” He moves, slow and elegant as always. Until he’s kneeling before you. Peering up at you, eyes sharp as ever. He’s searching your face for something and you don’t know what.
You’ve never seen him from this angle before. Beneath you. You don’t think you ever will again. You drink him in, the sight of him on his knees for you.
“I just wanted to tell you. I think I just wanted you to know.” Kevin stares up at you before he stands, never breaking eye contact.
When he presses a kiss to your forehead, soft, nearly loving, you think you’ve gone crazy and imagined the entire conversation.
You turn on the news a week later and see your rapist’s face plastered across the screen. Murdered, apparently.
You search the internet for more details and they’re brutal. Eyes gouged out. Hands cut off. Tongue ripped from their mouth. Ears sliced open.
It’s horrible. And you know who did it.
When you knock on Kevin’s door you’re unsure of yourself. From the look on your face alone Kevin knows what you’ve guessed.
“Why?” You ask.
He kisses you instead of answering and you’re not arrogant enough to assume you know why Kevin does anything. But when he silently wipes away your tears you allow yourself to pretend for just a moment that you know exactly why.
NATHAN PRESCOTT:
Nathan just knows this is his punishment. For every girl he’d ever hand delivered to Jefferson. For every drink he’s spiked. For every body he’s dragged. For every girl who’s cried themselves to sleep afterwards. If they’d been lucky enough to survive.
Nathan fell for you and allowed himself to think that the worst was over. That even people who don’t deserve a happily ever after can get it. Even him.
He’d stayed home from one party and that was all it took.
You barely go to class. Your apartment is a mess. You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. You walk around like a walking corpse that isn’t rotting yet.
You won’t tell him who did it, at first. He begs for months. He’ll do anything. He’ll hold your hands at the hospital. He’ll sue. He’ll go to the police. He’ll be with you through every questioning. He’ll sit with you in every courtroom.
You tell him you just want to forget.
But he knows that forgetting isn’t easy. Maybe even impossible. So he begs you just to let him help.
Eventually you can’t take it anymore and you tell him everything you can remember. You don’t even cry when you tell him. You haven’t cried since that very first night you stumbled home. Drugged, and bruised, and delirious.
You tell him there’s no point. That no one will believe you. That no one will care. And you’re right, if anyone knows what type of horrible things you can get away with it’s Nathan.
So he’ll take matters into his own hands. He buys a cheap gun a few towns away from some low life criminal. He comes back into town and throws a party. An absolute rager.
He gets your rapists so drunk and high he’s sure they barely feel the beating he gives them. When he shoots them he makes sure to at least stumble away from the scene of the crime before he throws up.
It’s all over campus the next day but somehow he’s never questioned even though he’s the one who threw the party.
It’s just one more thing that Nathan will have to live with.
When you hear the news you start to cry, then laugh. It’s the first time you’ve done either in months.
Some things are worth more than whatever soul he might have left.
DAVID MCCALL:
He actually cries. He can count on one hand all the times he’s cried before. It’s a few tears of pure pain for you as you lay in his arms, limp and helpless.
It’s hours before you calm down. Before the grief falls away like the tide pulling back. His tears are long gone by then. He holds you to his chest like a baby, shushing you and cooing at you.
When he asks for a name the room stops spinning for a moment. His tone is unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him.
“Baby? What’s their name, huh?” He asks again. His voice is honey sweet but there’s something chilling about it. He’s not asking, he’s demanding.
You’ve seen glimpses of this dangerous side of David. He tries to hide it from you but you’re not stupid. There’s a part of him that is just anger, and it waits snarling beneath a very thin surface.
But he’d never hurt you. He’s told you that. While he holds you. While he’s kissed you. While he makes love to you. “I’ll always be here, alright? I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
You wish you’d known him back then. Wish you’d had his devotion, his protection, his anger, when you needed it most. But you have him now, and you want him to take the pain away. To make everything feel safe and simple again, the way it was before anyone ever hurt you. You tell him all this and he pulls you tighter to him.
“Of course angel. I’ll make it go away. I promise.“
His knuckles are bruised and bloody the next day but there’s not another scratch on him.
“David? Are you okay?” You ask, unsure of what he’s done and unsure of asking the question at all. 
He stares at you for a long time before he kisses you. And it’s in that look that you know he means it when he tells you nothing will ever hurt you again. A wave of calm washes over you. He holds your hands and kisses the unbruised knuckles with a reverence that makes you cry.
“I’m perfect, angel.”
SPARROW!BEN HARGREEVES:
Has dealt with a lot of victims of violent crimes. Has even had to talk a few of them down from ledges and bridges. It’s all part of being a superhero.
It’s never been so personal before.
It was so easy to say the right things. Or snatch someone from the jaws of death mid jump. All of that was easy. He’d never been there for the after. He’d never been the family, or the friend, or the boyfriend.
Well, now he is.
He holds you because what else can he do? He’s never felt more helpless. More worthless.
You needed him and he wasn’t there for you. Some hero he is. Able to save everyone in the world but the person who matters most. The only person who matters, in fact. He realizes he’d trade everything to be able to go back in time and just protect you.
His team. His fame. His powers. He’d give it all.
But all he can do is hold you while you sob yourself into a shaking mess on his lap. He wraps his arms around you and hopes you don’t notice that he’s shaking too. 
He takes a few days of focusing just on you. He can’t do anything else. Whenever he’s out of sight you panic, scared and frantic.
He got up early one morning just to make you breakfast and when you woke up without him the way you called for him was bone chilling. He thought someone was hurting you, the way you screamed.
He brings you to the Academy and assures you that nothing can happen to you in a house full of the most dangerous people in the world. He orders his siblings to watch you and even Marcus doesn’t say anything at the look on his face.
He’s a hero but he’s a killer too.
The kill is a perfect mixture of brutality and efficiency. He uses everything he’s ever learned to make the last few moments of your rapist’s life hell on earth. He stretches it out for as long as their body can take the blood loss.
He finds you asleep in his room with Sloane watching over you. You nearly start crying at the sight of him when he wakes you up. You cry so easily lately.
 “It’s okay, I took care of everything, okay?” His heart aches as you stare up at him, helpless and needing him. “Y/N?”
“Okay, Ben.”
He holds you and pretends it makes up for not saving you in the first place.
SEBASTIAN VALMONT:
“Sebastian? Sebastian say something.” He forces himself to blink away the flood of emotions he feels.
The only thing that matters is you. You, sitting in front of him. Needing him. Trusting him. You put up a brave front, blinking back tears, keeping your voice steady. You say something ridiculous, like you should be “over it” by now. Trying to get ahead of any judgement he might deliver on you.
He wonders who else you told and if they threw your vulnerability back in your face.
“I’m sorry.” Because what else can he say? He can’t change the past. He can’t fix you. He can’t make it go away.
“It’s okay.” You say, but it isn’t.
Days go by with it sitting on his mind. You both pretend everything is the same but it’s different. Not worse, just different. He tries not to tiptoe around you. He tries to just be the same, but he hates that there’s someone out there who changed you forever just going about their life unpunished.
Sebastian isn’t a fighter.
But with money you don’t have to be.
He hires some run of the mill thug and gives them enough money to buy a mini mansion. “Make it painful,” the only instruction.
He gets pictures sent in the mail and studies each one closely. He doesn’t feel guilt. He doesn’t feel sick. He doesn’t feel anything he should. Just the satisfaction that a problem was dealt with.
It’s you who tells him the good news. He pretends to be shocked and asks how you feel about it. ‘Good riddance,’ you spit. He has to agree.
As time goes by it feels more and more like a dream, what he did for you. The only proof laying in a shoe-box at the top of a closet, collecting dust.
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plzfeedmebread · 1 year
Text
The Lie of Providence - Chapter 5 - Paths
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word count: 2698
Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: family bonding
“blue text” is spoken Na'vi. ‘Italics’ are thoughts.
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When you and father return to the village, you find Mo’at already awake and preparing for her duties of the day.
“Mo’at, I must speak with you urgently.” Jake addresses her almost immediately.
“Good morning to you too ma Jake, ma [Y/N].” She chides him playfully, unawares of how serious he is. You greet her softly.
“Good morning Grandmother…” Her focus is immediately on you. She studies your face; that downcast gaze, the faint streaks left by tears.
“Come.” She commands and you two follow her into an unoccupied healer tent. She gestures you two to sit and she secures the entrance closed.
“Speak of your troubles.”
Once again you go through the motions of your nightmare. Again your tongue is held steadfast against mentions of the Human. You do not cry this time, far too drained now. When you are finished speaking you exhale deeply. Grandmother is quiet as she sits in front of you, studying you. Your father nervously shifts his gaze from you to her and back. He opens his mouth to speak but she swiftly lifts a hand to silence him, gaze never faltering from you.
Without a word she rises from her spot and swiftly leaves the tent. You look to your father confused, but he merely shrugs; equally baffled. Quickly she returns though, bringing with her a bowls, tools, and a satchel no doubt filled with various powders and plants.
She works without uttering a single word. She alights the small fire pit in the center of the tent space. You welcome the gentle heat as it washes away the morning chill. Your father moves to sit closer to you, putting a comforting arm around your shoulder as the two of you watch Mo’at work.
You watch with keen interest as she grinds dried plants into fine powders, quietly chanting as she does. She pulls the bone from her necklace and holds out her free hand expectantly to you. You understand immediately and offer a hand. She pricks a finger, putting a drop of your blood into her concoction. She grabs a handful of the powder and throws it upon the fire.
The flames roar to life suddenly, a dazzling dance of reds and purples awash the tent. You look at your arms and marvel as the colours are reflected perfectly in your pale tones. You wonder if other colours would dance so wonderfully on your skin too. Mo’at’s prayers are louder now as she gestures this way and that, a dance known only to her as Tsahik. Suddenly the fire burns dark red, bolder than fire should be, and immediately dies without warning. Mo’at gasps and inhales deeply.
She sits back on her haunches, hands folded in her lap.
“The Great Mother has spoken. She speaks of fire and brimstone. Of great shadows darkening the sky. The seas painted red with spilt blood. Of villages burning, our people dying. Of betrayal, vengeance, wrath…”
She looks up from the dead flames to meet your eyes.
“She speaks of you. A warning. Many paths lay before you. She did not reveal them to me. Only that you must choose the right one.”
You gulp. All of that sounded more ominous than helpful. In fact, the right path? What does that even mean? How are you supposed to know? What if you choose wrong? What then? Will you be the reason people die and villages burn?? Your suddenly filled with anxiety, such thoughts becoming too taxing for a 12-year-old girl.
“Hey Mo’at that’s enough! You’re scaring her!” Your father yells when he notices your laboured breath. There words become heated but you do not hear. Static fills your ears as you stare at your open palms.
You’re suddenly filled with a desire to see the Human. That cold gruff man. He’s been a constant in your life for many years now. Oh, you left him on that cliff. You hope he finds his way back to the waking world or where ever he comes from.
And before any of you realise it, you unwillingly fall into the embrace of darkness.
---
Miles Quaritch considers himself a sensible sort. Tough on his men, tougher on his opponents. Values loyalty above all else. Does not question authority, and does himself expect not to be questioned. That first day on Pandora, she made one thing very clear; this is not your home, and you do not make the rules here.
He wears his scars proudly, a reminder of what’s out there. Not just the animals and plants, but those savages too. Anything with a pulse is trying to kill you. Anything without a pulse can kill you too. But they have a job to do. Orders are orders and one way or another, they are going to get to that damn deposit of unobtainium.
The Avatar Program. What a fucking joke. Waste of time as far as he is concerned. Would be easier just to smoke out all the natives by force and blow the damn tree up. Minimal casualties of course, but such things are unavoidable. He suddenly wonders if you live in that big tree.
Urgh. He hates that he suddenly thought of you. Some native kid inhabiting a dream. He doesn’t like the lucid dreams. They feel far too real for his liking. He’d really like Jake to hurry the fuck up so he can be done with this planet and be on the next shuttle outta here. He can’t help his mind however, recalling the first time he had seen you. Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta him, looking like a damn ghost what with that pale skin and all. Turns out you were just a bratty kid who followed him everytime he dreamt these past few months.
He wonders then though, if his mind was playing tricks on him last time he dreamt of you. You looked, almost bigger? He’s not sure anymore. The low gravity of this planet must be fucking with his head and he can’t stand it. He sighs as he rubs a hand down his face. He’d love nothing more than to leave right now. Paz looks ready to pop anytime soon and he’d prefer if the boy was born on his real home planet, not this God forsaken moon. This was no place to raise a son.
Although he and Paz weren’t in a relationship per say, he knows he needs to do right by her and their son. So begrudgingly here he stays, following through with orders to the best of his ability, to ensure a future for his son, and to ensure he has a home to go back to once this is all over.
---
 Months pass and yet still you do not return to the shared dream. For this you are grateful as you have yet to experience another nightmare. You would be saddened to have not seen your human companion were this not the norm though; to go so long without another shared dream.
It might even take another year before he makes an appearance. But that is a worry for future you. Present day you has thought long and hard about Eywa’s less than straight forward answers. But as luck would have it, you have come up with a sort of plan.
As you recall, Eywa spoke of many paths to be laid before you, choosing the right one a crucial step toward the future. You wondered then, if perhaps this was hence tied to your future place in the clan; something not yet set in stone either.
Being the first born of Olo'eyktan, you had many choices in your future role to the clan, Leader of course being one of them. Alternatively, you could tutelage under Grandmother to become future Tsahik. This was once your mother’s destiny, but the war with the Sky People passed lead her instead down the path of the Warrior, to which she has since thrived. She is a remarkable huntress too, and you would be honoured to learn from her; another path you could choose.
There were also the Gatherers, experts in cultivating the land and foraging, making sure to take only what is needed to never upset the great balance. You could study craftmanship – becoming an expert in textiles, or one day having the privilege of using the Mother Loom. You could become a Clan Singer, studying under Ninat and learning the songs to bring joy around the cooking fires, or the prayers that are sung to honour the dead.
With so many ways you could fit into the clan, your genius idea was then to do it all.
Oh yes. You were going to study everything. Every last job afforded to you, you would give everything that you are and then some. Surely there could be no wrong path if you took EVERY path!
With this in mind you approach your parents and grandparent with the idea. Mo’at is apprehensive, becoming Tsakarem was a life long commitment. But as it would stand she doesn’t currently have anyone under her tutelage, so she relents. She places a condition though; were she to see a sign from Eywa regarding your future as Tsahik, she would end the training were it not to please the Great Mother. You agree wholeheartedly.
And so begins your training under dearest Grandmother.
And by the Great Mother is it exhausting. But equally as exhilarating. There is a thought in the back of your mind too, that if you can become one who interprets the Will of Eywa, there is the chance that your own future, and the dreams that may yet lie within, could become clearer to you. You could gain a better understanding of it all. Maybe.
Every morning then, you awaken before majority of the clan, and listen dutifully as Mo’at explains everything she does, and the reasons therein. She speaks of Eywa’s influence in the world around you, look for signs, the things others may not yet see. How she interprets these things. The rites that a Tsahik must perform for her people, the plants you use, the painting patterns, which paints to use and the colours and their meanings. There is even order in the burning powders for rituals and rites alike. It is a lot to take in. But you drink it up as though you are starved.
And when the sun approaches its zenith, you spend your time with Mother, she teaches you the ways of hunting. How to track the great beasts of Pandora, how to stealth through the forest but leave no trace behind. She begins teaching you to use a bow, and you and her are surprised to find you are remarkably proficient. She praises you greatly, and the two of you laugh over stories of how much she struggled to teach your father the very same weapon.
When the sun first kisses the horizon, you then spend time with Ninat, learning how to control your voice. Breathing exercise. How to hold notes and expanding your range. She tells you that you have a good voice, and will no doubt sing beautifully with time; if your own mother’s voice is anything to go by. With that in mind, you practice your singing in the evenings when Neytiri sings her personal songcord.
Your days are never the same though. Though each morning will always be spent with Tsahik, some afternoons you spend with father, he appoints himself to teach you the way of the Warrior. How to fight. And more importantly, how to wield a knife. Though he’s not ready to give you a proper blade yet, you are given a blunt wooden carving of one. Technique is of the most importance. The stances and body movements he teaches you, are Human techniques.
He appoints Tarsem, a young but extremely wise Warrior to teach you the native style of the clan. He hopes a broaden fighting style with multiple perspectives will keep you that much safer in the future.
Other evenings are spent with some of the Gatherers as they prepare food for the clan with the Hunters. You learn how to carve meat from bone, which parts of animals are for eating, the rest for healing or craftsmanship. There are some days where you join them out the forest, learning which plants are safe and which to avoid wholeheartedly. Which herbs mix well together, and which when combined make absolute and utter chaos.
The only downside to this sudden busy schedule, is you find yourself with far less time than before to spend with your siblings. It weighs heavy on your heart; especially when you have to refuse their offers to play when you have lessons.
You do the best you can to make time here and there. You are free though, well after the evening meal, when the sky is dark and full of stars. You sit with them and tell them stories of your day, the struggles of your training, the joys of doing things right. There is a big smile that spreads upon your face, ear to ear, as you regale them, almost nary stopping to breathe.
Then there are your days of Rest. One must allow oneself to replenish the energy that is borrowed from Eywa. These are the days you visit Hells Gate to spend time with Uncle Norm and Max catching up on your goings on. Spider is of course there too, eating up everything you see, wishing he too could be a part of your training.  By the Great Mother if you somehow become Clan Leader you will make sure he becomes an official member, and anyone who disagrees will answer to you.
---
2 Years pass. You are 15 now, almost a young adult. Your training still continues, though only to hone your skills. One development however, is that at some point you ceased your training as future Tsahik. Instead, Mo’at has appointed Kiri to be her new Tsakarem. And at 11 years old Kiri is more than excited. Any chance she can commune with the Great Mother she takes it. It means she get so communicate with her Birth Mother, Grace; a surprising thing to learn.
Your parents had waited until the older children, everyone except Tuk, were old enough to understand the story. How they found Grace’s avatar body pregnant without explanation, in its stasis pod. And how Kiri came into the world a little miracle, one they graciously took into their family to raise as their own. Now Kiri sometimes visits Hells Gate with Lo’ak in tow, the two of them growing closer to Spider as the years passed. But also it gives her a chance to see her other Mother, to watch videos of her talking about her love for Eywa and this world.
---
Hold your breath. Steady aim. Do not pull too tightly. Exhale on release. No sudden movements. Aim carefully and—the yerik just so happens to look up and immediately spots you, instantly scurrying off before you can let loose an arrow.
You cuss, growly in frustration of it all. This is not the first time something like this has happened. You are sure of it now. Being this pale against the backdrop of the forest’s deep greens and blues, you must stand out something fierce.
“Calm, [Y/N]. These things happen.” Your mother says and puts a comforting hand upon your shoulder.
“Sorry. I know. It’s just—incredibly frustrating.”
“What is, my sweet atokirina?”
You gesture vaguely up and down your whole body.
“This. This is. It makes me stand out. I can’t hunt like this Mama. They see me so fast…”
“Then we must try other techniques. From higher in the trees, or—”
“It’s not just the animals Mother…”
The words slip out before you even think. Damn. This wasn’t something you wanted to necessarily talk about. At least not yet. It was awkward. It was uncomfortable. And most of all, heart breaking. Neytiri scowls, not liking the implication behind those words.
“What do you mean, [Y/N]?”
You sigh deeply. ‘Eywa give me strength’. And so you decide to tell your mother, about your first heartbreak.
----------
A/N: Once again I'd like to give thanks to everyone that has liked and or reblogged this story. It really means a lot and is great motivation to keep going! I know you all must be frothing for the promised quaritch x reader content and I thank you for your patience. I promise it is coming! I just really wanted to get some world building in there; really delve into you as the reader and where you come from. I am eager to hear your thoughts. Let me know how ya'll feel about pacing and whatever else have you!
Also once again I apologies for any grammatical errors.
---
Tag List: @mynameisbaby9 @nissilou @d4rno @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @perseny
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i-am-a-l0st-gh0st · 6 months
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I can't stop you putting roots in my dream land'- Heizou X gn! reader
Despite being a detective many things about you were still a mystery that he could never figure out.
T/w- fluff, cuddles, pet names (my love, dear)
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"Heizou! Don't go, keep your eyes open for me! Love!"
"I'm sorry."
"Heizou!" Your head felt lightheaded from how quickly you sat up.
Looking around your room you couldn't find your lover anywhere. His side of the bed had been slept in, your sure he went to sleep with you. You remember kissing him before you both drifted off. Maybe… maybe he really did… "Heizou!" Tears threatened to fall down your face. "No, no no."
The room began to close in, making it hard to breathe. You couldn't speak properly anymore, Your breathing also began to speed up. Where could he be? Did he really die? Was he gone? Despite it being cold you were sweating, tears now came streaming down your face. They wouldn't stop, staining the blanket with the drops.
Click
"Love, what are you doing awake, did I wake you? Love! Oh my what happened!"
Your eyes shot up to face the figure who had walked in, and it was none other than the boyfriend you thought was dead. "Heizou!"
He quickly wrapped his arms around you, trying to understand why you were crying. You buried your face in his neck, which made it wet. Your grasp on him was tight, like it was the last time you'd hug him. Tears streamed down your face like it was the last time you could cry. A Lot of things felt like last times tonight. "Y/n what happened?"
Struggling to get words out you managed, "I-i thought you, you died…"
Upon hearing these words he only tightened the hug, making sure to comfort you as much as he could. "Oh my dear. Have some water, it's alright."
While drinking the water you hiccuped
a little causing the water to splash on your face a little. This earnt a little chuckle from the crimson haired detective next to you. "Come here my love, if you want to of course." He added with a slight grin.
He resumed his sleeping position but this time made sure there was enough room for you. You accepted this offer by burying your face in his chest. You were so close to falling asleep but the thought of your nightmare plagued your memory. You tensed a little which Heizou noticed. He started running his fingers through your hair.
"Are you comfortable?"
You nodded, well as much as you could anyway. He seemed to understand this and continued what he was doing. Within the next few minutes you were asleep, peacefully this time. Heizou however was still awake appreciating how cute you looked while you slept. How had he never noticed such beauty coming from you? From his own partner?
In your sleep you mumbled some things Heizou couldn't understand, bit of a shame really.
Despite being a detective many things about you were still a mystery that he could never figure out. He chuckled quietly and soon fell asleep too.
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smoooothoperator · 6 months
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Save Your Tears
06: Let It All Go
Driver! Mick Schumacher x opera singer! OC (Ophelia Becker)
Strangers to friends to lovers, love at first sight, long plane flight, personal drama, opera references
Words: 3.2k
Warnings: long one, MSC accident, flashbacks are on italics
Every way of feedback is very welcomed
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He doesn't know how much time passed. It might be minutes or hours. Time when you are grieving seems to go slower than it already is.
The moment he walked inside that building, he felt a ball of anxiety inside his chest and how his mind started working while waiting to walk inside the main room.
His father is healthy, he speaks a little. But he can't help but think of all the alternative endings of how his accident could have gone, of the possibility of being in the same place Ophelia was, grieving a parent. 
The moment he saw her sitting on a chair he immediately knew what he had to do.  
The queue was slow but his anxiety and worry for her were growing fast, making him sigh and walk towards her.
She was looking down at her hands, playing with the ring he remembers touching. It made him smile, remembering how close they were and how beautiful she looked when he was only a few inches away from her.
When she looked up, his heart broke. Her eyes were red and the moment she looked up at him. Mick could feel her pain, how sad she was, and in that moment he wanted to take that sadness away from her. He wanted to see her smile, but the moment he heard her sobs, he only wanted to hold her for the rest of his life.
He stayed with her, sitting next to her and holding her hand on his lap. He doesn't care about what responsibilities has that day, he doesn't care if his best friend's stag party is at night. He will be with her.
But… why? He only knows her for a little sort of time. Why does he feel the need to be next to her, hold her and comfort her? Why is he only thinking about making sure she doesn't cry again, at least in public? Did she eat? Drink water?
"Ophelia" he asked quietly, squeezing softly her hand and receiving only a soft tired groan from her. "Do you want to go eat something?"
"I'm not hungry" she whispered.
"I can hear you stomach saying otherwise" he whispered, brushing his thumb on her knuckles. "Come on, let's go eat something"
"I don't want to leave her" she mumbled. "I just… Later, okay? The funerary services have to come and take her… tomorrow is the burial"
"Okay" he whispered, nodding.
He doesn't understand what he is doing here. Why her? Over the years, he had many people sitting next to him during flights, but for the very first time in years he wanted to be sitting next to someone for a longer amount of time.
The moment they met, he stopped thinking about Stepahanie, and even if he knows that her wedding is in two days, he only cares about Ophelia.
She sighed, leaning on him and resting her head on his shoulder. She's tired, she only wants to go to bed and sleep and wake up from this nightmare.
But as she hugged his arm, she realized something. Maybe she doesn't want to wake up, because if she does that Mick would disappear. Maybe he's not even real. It's just an illusion, something that came to her dream to make her calm.
"This… is this a dream?" she whispered, suddenly feeling the weight of his head on top of hers.
"Unfortunately, it's not" Mick whispered sadly. 
"Am I bad if I say that I'm glad that it's not?" she whispered, pulling away from his shoulder and looking up at him. "Am I bad if I say that I'm relieved that this is real? That… that this happened and you are here? That you are real…"
"No, of course not" he smiled weakly. 
"I just thought that this was a nightmare, and if I woke up there was a chance that you were not real" she whispered. "That I never met you. And… God, no. I want you to be real, I want to hold you hand"
He smiled weakly and sighed, nodding, holding her hand tighter and sighed. 
He doesn't know how to feel either. He's sad because he's holding her hand during the funeral of her mother, watching how people repeat those five words again and again when they walk towards them. He's sad knowing that tomorrow she will be burying her mother.
He's sad because he doesn't know how to make her happy.
But at the same time he's glad to find someone like her, to find someone that makes him forget about his unrequited love. He's glad to find someone that is interested in him and not on his fame and legacy. He's glad to be next to her, holding her and cheering her protection on the lowest moment of her entire life.
An older woman, around her fifties, came towards them and smiled weakly looking at the pair sitting close. If only Cordelia could see her daughter like that, she's sure she could be happy.
"Ophelia" Mariane said, walking towards them. "Go home, okay? I'll take care if the rest"
"But…" the younger woman frowned, but the moment she felt Mick's hand squeezing her softly she sighed. 
"You look tired, Ophelia" Mick sighed looking at her. 
"But I want to stay until they take her away…" she sighed. "Just…"
"That's not a good idea" Mariane sighed. "Go home, okay? I'll take care of this, you don't have to worry. I'll see you tomorrow"
Mick sighed and got up, pulling her towards him so she could stand up. He can't even understand how she's feeling right now, he doesn't know if she wants to eat or if she will sleep. But the only thing he knows right now is that she can't see how they close the coffin forever. The last thing she has to see from her mother is how she looked sleeping peacefully.
"Come on" he whispered, watching how the older woman walked towards them and wrapped her arms around Ophelia.
"Just breathe deeply, relax. Everything is done now, she's okay" Mariane whispered in her ear.
Ophelia hummed and sighed, pulling away and taking a step back. Mariane smiled weakly at Mick and hugged him, making him rub her back and sigh.
"I'm sorry we met like this" he whispered. 
"Take care of her" she whispered. "I think she will need you"
Mick nodded and sigh, pulling away and looking at Ophelia. Her eyes were on her mother's coffin, smiling weakly. He feels so broken to be the one that has to make her leave, but it's for the best.
"Let's go" he said, holding her hand and walking out.
"I came in a car" she said, grabbing her bag and showing him the car keys of an Audi. "Is parked out there"
"Okay" he nodded. "You want me to drive?"
"Please" she sighed.
They walked, guided by Ophelia, out of the theater and when they walked out through the back door, he found the car. He smiled, looking at the car and walking towards it, opening the passengers door and letting her get inside before going to the driver's door.
"Well… where are we going now?" he asked, holding the steering wheel and looking at her. "Why don't we go somewhere to grab dinner?"
"Okay" she nodded. 
"What do you want? A burger? Pizza? Pasta?" he asked, starting the engine of the car and driving out of the parking lot.
Her silence made him smile weakly, looking at her and making a decision for her. He knows what she likes, they had plenty of time during the plane flight to talk about what they like, and he remembers she mentioned that the Asian food is her guilty pleasure.
Ophelia stared out of the window, looking at the traffic lights and the people walking on the streets. They smile, laugh. They are happy. How long will it take for her to be happy?
"I'm coming in a few minutes, okay?" Mick said, placing his hand on her thigh and squeezing it softly before getting out of the car.
She looked at him getting out of the car and her eyes went to the name of the place where he stopped the car, and she smiled weakly.  
He remembered.
"So… favorite food?" Mick smiled, eating a piece of the chocolate she offered him.
"Well… I stayed three weeks here in Tokyo" she said. "And I can confirm that I ate Japanese food all days…"
"And you fell in love with it" he confirmed.
"It's just… it's amazing" she nodded. "All those flavors, all that mix of ingredients is something that really drives me crazy"
"So, your favorite meal is… Japanese?" he smiled, watching how she nodded quickly.
"I would say, right now, Asian food in general" she explained. "Like, I tried the true Japanese food, but I want to try other things, you know? Korean, Chinese…"
"Yeah, I get it" he nodded. "I heard that there's a Korean restaurant in Zurich with native owners"
"Oh, really? I would like to go, one day" she sighed.
She blushed softly, thinking about that memory. He listened to her and he brought her to that Korean restaurant. 
She smiled, only a little, when he walked out of the place with two bags in his hands.
"I hope you are hungry because the guy told me that this is a meal for four people" Mick said, leaving the bags on the backseats. 
Ophelia nodded and sighed, looking at him and scanning his features with her eyes. She's sure her mom would have loved him.
"Where are we going? My house or yours?" he asked. "If it's yours, do you have the address saved?"
"Can we go to your house?" she sighed. "I don't know how I will feel looking at pictures of her"
"Okay" he nodded. "Look, why don't we do this. We go to your house and you grab clothes to bring to mine, hm? I'll be with you all the time, so if you need to cry, you'll have my shoulder to lean on. What do you think?"
"Okay" she nodded, trying to hold a quiet sob.
Mick smiled weakly and held her hand softly, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. He wants to see her smile, it kills him hearing how her voice breaks trying to hold a sob.
She wrote the address of her own apartment and Mick drove there, parking the car in front of the apartments complex. He turned off the engine and silence invaded the vehicle.
"Ready?" he asked her, caressing her hand and opening the door of his side.
Ophelia looked at him and sighed, taking a deep breath and joining him outside, standing next to Mick. She blushed softly when he held her hand and they walked towards the front door, getting inside after she opened it with her key.
"Just grab as much clothes as you need" he said. "You are staying with me"
"But…" she mumbled looking up at him. "What about your friends' wedding?"
"What about that?" he smiled weakly. "It's in two days, I'll see what I'll do"
She sighed and got out of the elevator followed by him, opening the front door of her apartment and taking a deep breath. She wants to do this quick, grab comfortable clothes and leave. 
While she was on her bedroom, Mick walked around, looking at the apartment. On the living room there's a piano with a scorebook on top of it, a few pictures on the walls that showed some of her concerts. There's a lot of shelves that have many books, he guessed those are sore books too. 
But what caught his attention was the picture on top of the piano. It was a little girl playing the piano, with her hair tied on two buns.
"In that picture I was playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" 
Mick turned around, looking at her holding a backpack. He smiled weakly and walked towards her and grabbed the packpack, hanging it on his shoulder.
"She would be so proud of you" he whispered, making her head drop and look down at the floor. 
"She was supposed to come to my debut" she mumbled. "But she missed the plane. I got so mad at her… God, I talked so cold to her when she called me before the concert…"
"Hey, she knows you didn't mean it" Mick frowned, hugging her. "She knows you wanted her to be there, that it hurt you…"
"I was mad, Mick" she whispered. "I called her selfish…"
"You know you didn't mean it"
Tears started to flow down her cheeks again. Suddenly she feels guilty. What if her mom had a heart attack because she was mad? It doesn't sound stupid to her. She was so upset with her, maybe her mom was too sad that…
"Take a deep breath, Ophelia" Mick asked, rubbing her back. "Everything will be okay, you will be okay. You'll stop feeling this way and you'll see how proud she is of you"
She hugged him, holding his black blazer. Her mind is playing tricks on her and she feels exhausted, maybe that's why she falls for those tricks so easily.
"Take me out of here, please" she begged.
Mick sighed and nod, feeling his heart breaking with every tear that touched his shirt. He just hugged her shoulders and walked out of the apartment with her, turning off the lights and locking the door with her keys.
Her mind was spiraling, hearing the conversation she had with her mother right before she had to go to the stage.
"What do you mean?" she frowned, pulling away the phone from her ear and looking at the time. 
"I can't be there, love" her mother sighed. "I missed the plane, I can't be tonight. But I promise I'll go tomorrow, okay?"
"You promised that you were going to be at my debut too. I think you don't know how to make promises" she frowned, feeling how her breathing was fast. 
"Come on, Ophelia… you know that these things happen. May I remind you that you missed the plane to go to the Rome's Competition?"
"It was because my car broke!" she exclaimed. "What excuse do you have, hm? That the guy you are fucking made you so sore that you can't walk faster to get in the plane? That you had to suck the dick of the conductor so he could choose you to be the next soloist? Can you stop acting like a whore for once?!"
"Watch your tone, young lady" her mother frowned. "I know you are mad right now, but tomorrow I'll be there. And the reason why I missed the plane is because…"
"I don't care" she groaned, ending the call.
She didn't listen to her mother. She didn't let her explain that she got out of a concert. And she died after that. 
She feels guilty.
"You okay?" Mick asked carefully. 
"I… I called her a whore" she mumbled. "I…"
"Hey, stop thinking about that" he sighed. "She knows you never meant to call her like that"
Ophelia frowned, wiping away her tears. How can he be so sure about that? Why is he so calm around her? 
When they arrived at his house, he parked the car in front of it, opening the door and grabbing the food bags while she grabbed her backpack.  
She looked at the house, impressed. It's not too big, it has a porch where the front door is. Is a two floor house and with enough space, too much for only one person.
"Welcome home" he smiled, opening the door and watching his dog walk towards them.
"You have a dog?" Ophelia asked softly. "Is cute"
"And she loves cuddles" he said, looking at her. "Right, Angie?"
Ophelia smiled weakly and kneeled in front of the dog, letting her smell her hand and after that she patted her head softly. The dog followed Mick, who guided Ophelia towards the guest's room. 
"Change clothes, yeah?" he smiled. "I think there are some of my hoodies on that wardrobe, you are free to take whatever you want"
Mick walked out but his dog stayed with her, laying on the floor in front of her, placing her head on her feet. Ophelia sighed, getting up and grabbing one of his hoodies and some leggings she packed, changing her clothes.
They had dinner in silence, but not an uncomfortable one. He knows what she's thinking, he can see the demons flying around her head.
"Is it good?" he asked, pointing to a dish. 
"Hm? Yeah" she sighed, nodding.
Mick smiled weakly and held her hand, making her look at him. She sighed, squeezing his hand softly and smiling weakly.
After they finished the dinner, he led her to the couch, holding her close and rubbing her back. The TV was on, but none of them were paying attention to what was playing.
"Why are you so good with me?" she asked suddenly, breaking their silence. "Why… Why are you treating me this way?"
"Because you don't deserve to be alone" he answered. "You don't deserve to be alone while you are grieving, you deserve to have someone next to you that holds you"
"But…" she whispered. 
"No" he interrupted her. "Don't say what you were going to say. You don't deserve it"
"I do…"
"You don't" he sighed. He took a deep breath and pulled her to his chest, laying on the couch with her on top of him. "You know… my dad had an accident ten years ago"
"What?" she mumbled looking at him.
"It was my fault. We were spending the winter break on The Alps with my family. I wanted to go skiing and since I wasn't old enough to be alone, he came with me" he said, rubbing her back. "We went to a zone that was off-piste and he went too fast… he hit his head with a rock. He was on a coma for a lot of time and there wasn't a day were I didn't feel guilty"
"Oh, Mick…" Ophelia mumbled, taking a deep breath. "But… is he okay now?"
"I don't know how to say it. I never know how to answer that question" he said. "He's alive, yeah. But some doctors say it is a hopeless case, others say that he's improving. My mom is with him all day and she says that she sees changes in him after every therapy session"
"And you? Do you see changes?" she asked. 
"I don't know" he mumbled. "I mean… I can see he's getting old. But.. You know what hurts me the most? That he's there, sitting on a bed or on a chair, but I can't speak with him about my job. I can't have a conversation about what we like"
Ophelia nodded and sighs, looking at him. His eyes turned sad, his blue eyes were getting glassy but with a deep breath he blinked the tears away.
"I know how you are feeling, Ophelia" he whispered. "That's why I will never leave you alone. I'm with you, I will hold you as long as you need it"
"Thank you, Mick" she smiled weakly, placing her hand on his jaw and kissing his cheek softly.
His heart was closer to hers. Somehow, she felt calm in his arms, in his house. It felt like a refugee to her. 
Maybe they were meant to meet the way they met.
taglist
@racinggirl @elisysd @lorarri @musingsbyshreya @vellicora @rileynicol3 @generalnav @kakorrhaphiphobia
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Text
Tolerate it. (Luke Hughes)
based off the song tolerate it by Taylor Swift.
CW: reader is younger (18)
((( background: Luke and i had met when he first moved to jersey i ran into him at the grocery store... long story short that day started the worst relationship of my life.)))
I woke up to the worst nightmare i have ever had i took one look at luke and it made me relax waking up in the middle of the night and watching luke breathing with his eyes closed always helped me feel better, not many had known about our relationship luke has always told me that people might find it weird that were dating because im so much younger than him but i never cared about our age gape i know luke loves me. He's older than me so he knows more i wont tell anyone about our relationship plus he tells me the fans will hate on us.
((the next morning))
" good morning babe" i say to luke as im cooking egg's he doesn't respond just walks past me. "how was your sleep" i ask, once again no response...
" i gotta go do practice babe, do you mind cleaning up while im gone this place is in a mess" he says "yeah of course i can, have a good practice" "yeah ok" after luke leaves i spend hours cleaning the apartment just so i can please him. i was so excited for today because it was our 1 year anniversary, but he doesn't seem to care too much...
((6:00pm))
I started on dinner, i made luke favorite chicken pasta i used the fancy plates too.
By the time luke gets home it was about 6:30 i stand by the door waiting him " mm babe you made my favorite, but why did you use the fancy plates you know we only use those for special occasions" "luke you're joking right" i say, no way he forgot our anniversary "joking about what?" he responds "luke you forgot about our anniversary" i say in disbelief tears threaten to fall from my waterline "what no babe our anniversary is next month you've got it wrong somehow" " no i don't have it wrong, its today" i say "ok y/n chill no need to get upset just sit down and eat the food, our anniversary is next month,do you really think i would forget something so important" "you're right luke, so how was practice you came home quite late where were you?" “At practice?” He answered with an annoyed questioning tone “practice ran that late?” “YES Y/N PRACTICE RAN THAT LATE” he yells “ok” I respond quietly
After dinner
I was lying in bed while Luke was in the bathroom when I saw a text notification on his phone
From: Ava
Had a great time today ;)
As soon as I read that text my heart dropped
I heard Luke walk out of the bathroom and into his room I quickly throw down his phone with tears spilling out of my eyes. “Woah what’s wrong baby” Luke says with a look of fake concern on his face, “ YOU CHEATER” I yelled through tears. “IVE DONE EVERYTHING FOR YOU LUKE, I COOK FOR YOU, I CLEAN FOR YOU, AND YOU JUST TOLERATE IT” I fully start to cry “y/n what are you talking about, are you ok?” While he’s talking I put on his shoes and head to the front door. “No luke I’m not ok, every time I point out something wrong in our relationship you call me crazy, or say it’s all in my head but it’s not, I knew you were cheating on me” “baby no I’m not cheating on you, what would make you think that?” Luke responds “really Luke if you’re not cheating on me than who is Ava” as soon as I said her name Luke stops and stares at me, he knows he guilty, he knows I’ve caught him. “I’m done Luke” I sigh and open his apartment door to leave.
A/n: this is lowkey bad sry it’s been awhile since I’ve wrote something 😭
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starlxghtss · 3 months
Text
So I've got this Gotg headcanon going about little Peter suffering from nightmares during his time on the Eclector. The boy has slept awfully since his mum's death and after his abduction from Earth, he used to wake up in the middle of the night, completely drenched in sweat and shivering, looking around his dark room in fear. Whenever he had a nightmare back home, Peter just would've run to his mother, slip under her blanket only to get shushed and comforted by her soft voice.
But now things were different and there was no one who could possibly give him that kind of (needed) comfort. In fact, the boy was on a ship full of cold-hearted cruel pirates, who cared about nothing and no one.
Yet, one night, Peter eventually sneaks out of his room, tiptoeing through the ship's empty corridors and comes to halt at the Captain's quarters.
The boy hesitates first but his fear of sleeping alone after that awful nightmare clearly outweighed that so he opened the door with a creak and as quietly as possible slipped into the generous room.
There he finds Yondu, snoring loudly to himself on his large bed, having no clue that the Terran kid just sneaked into his private quarters as he hasn't heard him near at all.
Peter stares a while at the Ravager captain, then a child's dainty hand lands on the Centaurian's rough shoulder, shaking it while a whisper runs over his lips.
"Yondu!"
No reaction.
Peter tries it once again and this time, he hears a grunt, then a pair of red eyes flap open in a sudden. A hand grabs the child's arm (a little bit to hard) and the boy squeals in surprise, making Yondu raise his eyebrow in confusion when he probably expected a threat but not the little Terran almost scaring him to death.
He sighes almost relieved, lets go off the boy's arm and his tensed muscles relax a bit.
"'s jus' ya, boy."
"What the hell ya doin' 'ere in the middle of the night?"
Yondu pierces the child with his look, expecting a good explanation for all of this. No one would dare to wake the captain after all, right?
"I've had a nightmare... and now I can't sleep."
"An'?"
Peter avoids his glance, ashamed, looking to the side and mumbles some words under his breath.
"I uh, can I sleep with you tonight?"
That was when the boy caught Yondu off guard completely. Another confused look and raised eyebrow alongside with a few hisses makes Peter almost regret coming here in the first place.
"What? Ain't'cha too old for this, boy? C'mon, get outta 'ere, kid, 'm tired!"
The Ravager turns his back to the kid, pretending to fall asleep and simply waits for the boy to leave his room again, but then he hears a soft sniffle and a child's whiny voice.
"Please, Yondu..."
He turns around again, seeing, how few tears glistened on Peter's cheeks and another sniffle follows while big green eyes caught the captain's stern gaze. And he told the kid many times not to put on that look on his face, not to whine or cry, because Yondu hated whenever the boy did that and couldn't stand his crying. But there was also this feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite understand even up until that day and should he be damned for it, hell, Yondu somehow just couldn't kick the boy out.
So with a few reluctant grumbles and repressed self-pride, the Centaurian eventually makes a bit of space on the bed and Peter's tears disappeared in a sudden when the little Terran scrambs up to him under the blanket.
"But don't'cha make any noise! If I'm hearin' jus' a single un, I'll kick ya out, ye hear me, boy?!"
Peter curles into a little ball, snuggling into the blanket right beside the hissing Ravager who then hears some further whispered words.
"I won't, I promise."
Odd as it is, Yondu has laid awake for a while now and the sleepiness just seemingly dissolved with the little child pressed tightly against his back so the Centaurian turns, hearing Peter's soft breaths and little hands clenched into the blanket while he whimpers in his sleep.
If he'd stick to his words before, now would be the moment to bring the kid back to his bed because Peter actually broke his promise to stay quiet all night. But Ravagers don't make promises anyway and if they did, they'd surely break them, don't they?
Boy better learns t' stop making promises he can't keep.
And that sure has nothing to do with the little Terran crying in his sleep nor Yondu's hand carefully pulling the kid a little bit closer to him or that warm feeling rising in his chest when the boy snuggled into his arms.
No, not at all.
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idk-whydoineedone · 2 months
Text
The other day, when my, annoying, friend came by, we rewatched OPLA, his... idk 29th time?, anyway, as we got, again, at Zeff and Sanji, he talked about a HC he got, and cause he goes on about it, here we go.
Not long after they were off the rock and had Baratie, little Sanji suffered from nightmares. The boy has slept awfully since what happened on the rock, he used to wake up in the middle of the night, completely drenched in sweat and shivering, looking around his dark room in fear. He used to have nightmares back home also in the prison, about Judge and his brothers.
One night, Sanji eventually sneaks out of his room, tiptoeing through the ship and comes to halt at the chef's room.
The boy hesitates first, questioning why he did it, if Zeff would yell at him, if Zeff would lock him somewhere, but his fear of sleeping alone after that awful nightmare clearly outweighed that, so he opened the door with a creak and as quietly as possible slipped into the generous room.
There he finds Zeff, snoring to himself on his large bed, having no clue that the little eggplant just sneaked into his room.
Sanji stares a while at the elder man, then a child's dainty hand lands on the man's rough shoulder, shaking it while a whisper runs over his lips.
"Geezer!"
No reaction.
Sanji tries it once again and this time, he hears a grunt. Zeff's eyes flapped open, and his hand, out of old pirate instinct, grabs the child's arm a bit to hard, and the boy squeals in surprise, making Zeff raise his eyebrow in confusion as he realized it was just the eggplant.
He sighes almost relieved, lets go off the boy's arm and his tensed muscles relax a bit.
"Just your bratty ass."
"The fuck you doing awake on this hour?"
Zeff pierces the child with his look, expecting a good explanation for all of this.
Sanji hesitates, looks down, fidgetting with his shirt, scared out of his mind, 'What would he say? Will he throw me away? Will he call me weak? Scold at me?' his mind was filled with to many questions for a child his age.
"I-I...." he began
Zeff groaned, almost commanding him to go on
Sanji avoids his glance, ashamed and scared, looking to the side and mumbles some words under his breath.
"I uh..... can I sleep with you tonight?"
'Please, don't lock me up, its only tonight. I'll do everything you ask me to.I won't be a burden. Please, I'm sorry, just tonight.' where left unsaid
That was when the boy caught Zeff off guard completely. Another confused look and raised eyebrow alongside with a few grunts makes Sanji almost regret coming here in the first place.
"What? Is my leg gone not enough, brat? Stop bothering me and let me just damn sleep"
The elder man turns his back to the kid, pretending to fall asleep and simply waits for the boy to leave his room again, but then he hears a soft sniffle and a child's whiny voice.
"Please..."
He turns around again, seeing, how few tears glistened on Sanji's cheeks and another sniffle follows while a big eye (get it? the other is hidde-, i'm sorry, bad timing) caught the elder man's stern gaze. He told the little eggplant many times not to put on that look on his face, not to whine or cry, because Zeff hated whenever the eggplant did that and couldn't stand his crying. But there was also this feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite understand even up until that day and should he be damned for it, hell, Zeff somehow just couldn't kick the boy out.
So with a few reluctant groans and repressed self-pride, Zeff eventually makes a bit of space on the bed and Sanji's tears disappeared in a sudden when the little eggplant scrambs up to him under the blanket.
"But don't ya dare make a noise! If I hear even a single sniffle or whimp, You're back to your damn room, you hear me, damn brat?!"
Sanji curles into a little ball, snuggling into the blanket right beside the grumbling geezer who then hears some further whispered words.
"I won't, I promise."
Odd as it is, Zeff has laid awake for a while now and the sleepiness just seemingly dissolved with the little child pressed tightly against his back so he turns, hearing Sanji's soft breaths and little hands clenched into the blanket while he whimpers in his sleep.
If he'd stick to his words before, now would be the moment to bring the kid back to his own bed because Sanji actually broke his promise to stay quiet all night. But Sanji was, at the end of the day, still just a child, who'm he almost starved with on a damn rock some weeks before, for who'm he ate his leg for,
And that sure has nothing to do with the little eggplant crying in his sleep nor Zeff's hand carefully pulling the little boy a little bit closer to him or that warm feeling rising in his chest when his little eggplant snuggled into his arms.
I'm sorry, I'm not the bad at writing stuff.... anyway, should I make this longer? (ask my friend for even more)
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dearmailman · 10 months
Note
Hi Eddie I have a request if that’s ok!
My request is Eddie and Frank taking care of a little who had a nightmare please.
Thank you! —🦎
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Blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags line the floor of the Frankly-Dear home's living room, loose snacks and a few hair curlers scattered among them. All is well, just a fun sleepover to the observing eye. If they looked harder though, they'd realize one of the sleeping bags is empty.
Yours.
You're not there - you're in the guest bathroom, hidden in the bathtub with the curtains shut. Crying would feel great right now, if you weren't so scared you can't manage. Instead your head rests on your knees as you hug yourself, just staring at the teal porcelain and sucking your thumb softly. It's a bad habit, but it's comforting, especially in the mindstate you've entered. The image of your nightmare won't seem to leave your eyes the moment they close.
You're considering just sleeping in the tub when the doorknob rattles. You hide your face further, startled.
"Reader?" a familiar voice calls. "Is that you in there?" Eddie twists at the doorknob again, confused. You knit your eyebrows together, take a deep breath, and crawl over to unlock the door. Eddie looks across, blinking at the emptiness of a person at eye level. You tug at his pants, and he looks down at you sleepily.
"Hi, neighbor," he chuckles. "How long you been in here?"
"Um... maybe an hour?"
Eddie looks behind himself with a raised eyebrow, the early morning light clearly lighting up the living room. "It's probably been more than that, love. I'm getting up for work right now!"
"Oh," you say quietly. Eddie nods, waiting for more, but you don't continue. He shrugs, and sits on the floor with you, cross-legged.
"Floor time?" He shoots you a soft smile. "Frank likes floor time too, sometimes. It's alright!" When you don't respond yet again, his smile looks worried. "Did something happen, Reader?"
"Nightmare," you huff, rubbing your eyes.
"Yeah? Must've been a biggun if you hid from it." He glances around the room. "It's not still here, is it?"
You shake your head, your hands shaking softly. He notices, and takes one of your hands. "Hey hey, steady. You're alright, friend!" His hands are very soft, and very large as they engulf yours entirely.
"'M fine, Eddie. You need to go to work..."
"Not til 9, neighbor." He pauses. "And not til Frank gets his good morning kiss. I don't mind bein' here for you one bit!"
You feel something in you unravvel as your friend provides a safe moment. You tear up, and before even letting him mention it, you pull him into a hug, hiding against his chest rather than cold tile. He seems surprised, but hugs you back. He always gives the gentlest hugs in the neighborhood.
"Reader, y' wanna talk about it?"
"I... I just have awful dreams sometimes. It's too hard to describe them. Too confusing and too much happening. I don't know, Eddie. I always wake up scared and... small."
"Small?"
"Feeling like a kid. It... makes me feel safe. Kind of. It didn't work tonight."
Eddie nods thoughtfully. "I also feel like a kid when I'm scared. But, y'know..." he sighs, chest rising against you. "There's always people who'll take care of me - of you! Y' got so many friends here. Even if no one else can, well... Maybe there is a reason I woke up a few hours early. In a cosmic fashion." He laughs at himself, one of his hands cupping the back of your head. "You're safe, Reader."
Before you can respond, a light knock comes. "Eddie? Why are you in the bathroom?"
"I'm alright, Frank! Is Julie still asleep?"
Frank pushes the door open and looks down at both of you with a confused frown. "Oh, hello Reader. Yes Eddie, Julie's an off the hook sleeper, you know that." Frank sits beside you two, tying his house robe around himself. "Are you okay in here?"
"Sound as a pound, my love," Eddie smiles. "Reader did have a nightmare though."
You nod, looking anywhere but either of their eyes. Frank raises an eyebrow at you in concern, resting a hand on your shoulder. "I have those too, Reader. What can we do?"
You sigh out a long breath. "I dunno."
"Now, didn't you mention feeling kid-like after it? I have coloring books! Crafting supplies? Plushies? Stickers!" Eddie chuckles. "You can just let yourself feel all kid-like, like I do sometimes. We can play. Playing is always great."
Frank shakes his head. "Copacetic. Well, you two can craft, but I myself am making toast and eggs for you two. Otherwise neither of you will eat." He cuts off Eddie's protest with a raised hand. "I know you won't eat, dear, you always forget."
Frank smiles at you, a rare sweet face. "I'll make extra eggs for you, Reader. And if you ever need to talk - about nightmares, or anything else - you know you can talk to me." He pats your head and walks into the kitchen.
Eddie hugs you again. "You gonna be alright, neighbor?"
You realize how much safer and calmer you've felt since your friends came in, and as the smell of cooking wafts through the home, you let go of the images of your nightmare and fully relax. "Yeah... I will be."
And you are. You and Eddie spend so long making paper chains while eating that Eddie manages to be an hour late for the mail route! Frank gets a good morning kiss, and then you two just sit together.
"Julie does sleep like wild," you joke.
"You don't though, evidently." He says it so bluntly you cast him a glance. "I just mean- Nightmares. I'm talking about nightmares." He sets his forehead in his palm, annoyed at himself as ever for social blunders.
"What about them?"
""I just want you to know that at least one other neighbor has them too." Frank sets his hand near yours on the table. "They're scary, and brutish, and- Jeepers, they just aren't fun."
You hum nervously. "They're not, no. It does feel good to know at least someone gets it."
"It feels good for me, too." His hand does rest on yours now, the gap bridged. "I know we'll both be okay. Or, well, I hope at least. I mean- We will be."
You look across at him, and for once he looks unsure and nervous, allowing himself to be vulnerable. You smile at him, thankful. He smiles at you too then, a genuine, soft one. You squeeze each other's hands, before Frank diverts and gets up, mumbling something about going to wake Julie.
The morning sun shines onto you through the windows, warm and kind to you, all but chasing away the darkness of your dream.
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sfw interaction only
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cinnabun-faerie · 1 year
Note
I hope everything is okay with you and I send internet hugs if its not. I understand if you're not okay with this and I get it. How would each of the Scions react if you woke up from a nightmare brought on by the trauma that the WoL has been though? Whether it's about losing them over and over again or dealing with everything in general?
A/N: It's going alright I suppose. Could be worse. I'd love some hugs, so thank you! I hope you're doing alright as well, Anon. I'm completely okay with is, no worries. I meant to write it last night but I fell asleep.
Warning: A bit angsty
FFXIV taglist:  @missnella-nova @shippyprincess @healersadjust @thai  @lumeriadeborel @obscene-tevene  @losingmymindinglitter @gudaworks @imadreamerinmymessylife
If you want to be added to the taglist for whenever I post, you can comment here on the original post !
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Alisaie
When she'd hear you crying, she'd go towards the sound. She didn't care what time it was when it happened, her friend needed her. She'd find you asleep at the table, tears staining your cheeks. She'd shake your shoulders lightly to wake you. You didn't need to explain as she knew that you needed an outlet. She'd give you a smile and lead you to a much comfier place to sit where she would ask you to please tell her of your troubles. And she'd listen intently when you'd oblige.
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Alphinaud
He would jump out of his bed half asleep when he'd hear your terrifying screams. He would burst into your room, ready to defend you. But what he'd see was you tossing and turning in your bed in distress. He wouldn't hesitate to move to your bed side and try to shake you awake. Once your eyes would open, they'd fill with more tears as you saw him alive and well.
"Alphinaud?"
"I'm here, Y/N. What was your nightmare about?"
He didn't get an answer, instead he got engulfed into a tight hug. He didn't mind as you surely needed it. He would hug you back and wait for you to pull away. When you did, you two would sit and chat for a long while.
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Estinien
He had expected your nightmares to increase after the recent events of your travels. You held too much for just one person. So when you'd start crying in your sleep, he'd pull you close to his side. Your cries of pain in your sleep were an out for your emotions as you'd never let them loose when you were awake. All he could do was be there to be your comfort.
"Just let it out. Gods know you need it."
When you'd wake yourself up, you'd snuggle into his side. "Thank you, Estinien."
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G'raha Tia
He hears you scream out his name desperately from your shared room followed by uncontrollable sobs. He drops his spoon in the cup he was preparing for you and rushes towards your distressed cries. He feels his chest tighten as you beg him to come back. It were the words Alphinaud told him you cried out when he sacrificed himself the second time. He was quick to hold you in his arms, whispering to you that he was there with you and in fact not gone.
"I hate you." he'd hear say quietly when you'd begin to catch your breath, trying to calm down at the sound of his voice. "Why would you do that to me?"
Tears pooled in his eyes at your pained words. It had not registered in his brain just how much his "deaths" affected you. He had just done what he thought needed to be done. But seeing you like this, he never for a million years wanted to hurt you like this.
"I'll never do that to you again, my love. I'm so sorry."
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Thancred
Just hearing you call out his name in any way other than happily, hurt him. It would shake him to the very core when he'd hear it the first time. Never would he have want to hear the pain in your voice as you call to him, nor the cries that followed. You'd tell him afterwards that it was because you'd lost him so many times, and the fear of losing him at any turn loomed on your mind. And your mind would be plague with nightmares of losing him for good. And he'd be there to soothe you and remember that he was not going anywhere.
"I promise you this, here and now; I'll always come back to you, Y/N. No matter how impossible it may seem. I won't leave you on your own."
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Urianger
It would truly tear his soul apart whenever you had nightmares. They were all the same, reliving the moment when he had "died". When he'd first experienced it, he was shocked to hear you cry out for him from your room. He would rush to you to assure you that he was still there. And he'd make it a habit to stay with you every night to assure that you wouldn't be alone whenever the nightmares returned. If he had to spend his entire lifetime at your side to create better memories and dreams to combat the nightmares, he was happy to do so. You meant the world to him and he wasn't going to cause you this pain like this again.
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Y'shtola
She was all too familiar with your nightmares. It hurt her to have caused you so much pain. Unfortunately your job as Warrior of Light would never get easier. She was only glad that she could come back to you in her living state. But she wished that she could take your pain away. The best she could do was try to soothe you and hold you until you calmed down. She would always spend the entire day with you when the nightmares happened.
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newhetaliafan · 6 months
Text
German Bros Week Day 6: Nightmare
@germanbrosweek
AO3
Ludwig stared at his brother's body. Gilbert was cold and still, his red eyes staring into nothing.
"G-Gilbert?" Ludwig stuttered, seeing but not believing. Gilbert wasn't really...he couldn't be..."But I am," said Gilbert. The words didn't come from his body. Ludwig turned around. In front of him was Gilbert.
"This isn't funny," Ludwig said, sternly. Gilbert just gave him a look while Ludwig assessed what exactly was in front of him. It was Gilbert, but he was transparent. He was taller too somehow. Ludwig looked down and saw that Gilbert's feet were hovering above the ground. He let out a small gasp.
"I'm dead, Ludwig. Want to know why?" The ghost-Gilbert asked, his voice laced with ice. Ludwig just stared. How was...this couldn't be real! His heartbeat still got faster though.
"It's because of you. You've destroyed me, Ludwig. You let Prussia die, your own brother." Ludwig couldn't speak. Gilbert couldn't be dead, he couldn't, he still had to be alive! It was a cruel joke or maybe he was hallucinating! This didn't make any sense and yet...it did.
"Yes brother," Gilbert spat the word like he was saying an enemy's name.
"You killed me. You let my nation die, you let me become mortal. This is all your fault. If you had been stronger, better, I would still be there with you! But now I must go on to the afterlife and leave behind the many adventures I COULD'VE HAD!" Gilbert screamed. His red eyes burned with fury and hatred. Ludwig stepped back in horror.
"I...I..." He couldn't get himself to speak. He didn't know what to think. Gilbert had died, and Gilbert hated him. Ludwig felt tears prick his eyes. Maybe if he had been better, Gilbert would still be alive! Maybe he could've brought Prussia back!
"Farewell Germany. Have fun taking what would've been mine," Gilbert hissed before starting to completely fade away.
"Wait!" Ludwig called, desperately. Gilbert couldn't leave! He needed to apologize, he needed more time! Ludwig fell to the floor devastated when Gilbert only shot him a final glare before vanishing. Tears slipped down his face, and Ludwig hated himself for being so weak.
Ludwig opened his eyes and slowly sat up. He was in his bedroom. It was nighttime. Of course it had only been a dream! A bad dream. A nightmare. Only a nightmare, Gilbert was alive and well. Ludwig hadn't failed him after all. Ludwig rubbed his eyes, surprised when he felt wetness. Had he really been crying in his sleep? Ludwig wanted to scold himself, but he couldn't. It had been a horrible nightmare, one that would make anyone cry. Though would Gilbert have cried? Ludwig wasn't sure. His big brother could be pretty emotional, but he almost never cried. Would Ludwig be worth crying over? Maybe he could go ask-
Nein! Ludwig didn't need to go wake Gilbert up! He was a grown man, he could figure out his own problems! The blond sighed. He should've been getting back to sleep. It had only been a nightmare, he didn't need to keep thinking about it, but the stupid thing wouldn't leave his mind. He didn't even want to be thinking about it! He still did though, and the more he thought about it, the more worried he got about Gilbert. Before realizing what he was doing, Ludwig grabbed his pillow and headed to his brother's room.
He walked in quietly, knowing Gilbert was a light sleeper. He felt immense relief when he saw Gilbert's chest slowly rise and fall. Gilbert was there, and he was alive. It had only been a nightmare after all. That was it, confirmation, Ludwig could go back to his own bed now. Yet he couldn't. Something could happen. He could get another nightmare or a nightmare could happen in Gilbert's room. Ludwig couldn't take that chance.
"B-Brother?" He stuttered, taking a few steps closer. Gilbert groaned, the familiar name pulling him from his sleep. He sat up and let his eyes adjust to the dark.
"Hey Lud, what's up?" He asked, sleepily. Ludwig wasn't sure what to say. He was being ridiculous, Gilbert was fine. Gilbert didn't need him. He didn't need Gilbert.
"You okay?" Gilbert asked, worriedly. Ludwig was grown, he just had to lie and go back to bed, that's all he had to-
"I had a nightmare," Ludwig found himself admitting. Gilbert moved over patting the space next to him.
"Come on," he said. Ludwig moved forward then stopped himself. Gilbert has taken that better than he expected, but that didn't mean he should act like a child. Gilbert patted the space again.
"It's alright, kleiner," he coaxed. Ludwig slowly got into the bed. It was just too tempting. He adjusted, moving closer to Gilbert and keeping his pillow close by. Gilbert moved an arm around Ludwig and planted a kiss on his forehead.
"Want to tell me what your nightmare was about?" he asked.
"Please no."
"Alright, but I'm right here if you need to. Got that? I'm here if you need me."
"Thank you, big brother," Ludwig whispered, too comfortable to care anymore. He could act like a kid again for one night. It has been a horrible nightmare after all. He shut his eyes and slowly drifted back into sleep. Gilbert laid awake, glad to have Ludwig close to him and hear his soft snores. He would ask Ludwig more about the nightmare in the morning. For now they could lay in peace.
Gilbert sighed to himself as a selfish desire crossed his mind. He hoped Ludwig would get more nightmares in the future. He wanted Ludwig to come to him, so he could offer his brother comfort. He hadn't been able to do it for a long long time with how quickly Ludwig had become an adult. Gilbert really missed it, but that wasn't his only reason though. He hoped that the longer Ludwig seeked comfort from him, the longer Gilbert would be needed. The longer Gilbert would be needed, the longer he would get to stay and watch his little brother grow.
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