“Whatever happens, happens means to let things (the situation, circumstance) be and to not fight what will be. It is a way of accepting where the flow (or wind – whatever floats your boat) takes you.”
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𝕆𝕜𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖...
Being absolutely passed out asleep in the wee small hours of the morning. Resting in shear darkness, minus the faint shimmer of the nightlight Ed insisted on putting in your bedroom. Nothing but the sweet sounds of empty space, and new adventures for the day to come, filling your ears.
A gentle tapping at your door interrupting this peaceful silence.
Stirring awake only to hear it again. “Come on in, Spike.” mumbling as you already know who it is.
Aforementioned male entering your bedroom with his metaphorical tail between his legs. His hair being both poofy and stuck to his forehead, but nonetheless disheveled. Him looking exhausted, but bleary eyed and fearful.
“Bad dream?” Asking as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.
Spike shuddering out a breath as he nods. “Real bad.”
Sighing in sympathy as you open up your covers, patting the empty space on the other side of the bed. “Come on in, water’s fine.” a yawn finishing your illy-timed joke.
The bounty hunter letting out a puff of air through his nose, showing his amusement. Him hesitantly settling down into your bed and pulling the covers back up.
“G’Night, Spike.” whispering as you turn away from him.
“N-Night.” him replying shakily.
Spike trying to lay back and fall asleep, ultimately failing due to his fear of entering his dream once more. Him sighing dejectedly as he stares up at the ceiling.
“You can’t stand to fall back asleep can you?” turning to face him, finally taking in his horrified face. “Hey.”
Holding the side of his face and looking dead in his fearful eyes, “You’re safe here, Spike.”
Moving your own hand down to take his own, and resting his head on your chest, watching relief wash over him almost instantly.
“I’ve got you, space cowboy.”
—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————
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