#frozen!nighmare

[cakesmelons]

Hey! What about Frozen!Nightmare makes a breast size reduction surgery? (Plot Twist: Frozen!Dream takes the breast, and is very smug about it!)

it's 1 am when i drew this.... XD

[propertyofwhitney67]

I'm too shy to go off anon and also because the idea sounds absurd, but can I ask for Whitney + Nightmare + Comfort where reader has a nightmare about frogs? 😭

Anything For My Slut

M!Whitney x Gn!Reader

Prompt Event: Nightmare & Comfort

Words: 602

Tw: frogs, nighmare

Note: No shame here <3

It was pitch dark and I didn’t know where I was, everything felt hollow and cold. Movement just out of my vision startled me, then the croaking started. It was all around me and only getting louder. There were so many of them. I tried to back away but I was practically frozen in place, unable to control my own body.

The pitch dark faded to gray as they closed in on me, I could see them more clearly now. Hundreds and hundreds of frogs swarming me from every direction. I screamed and tried to run but my body refused to move even an inch. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest as they started to jump up my body, practically consuming me. I screamed and begged as they covered my face, suffocating me.

I awoke with a scream, tears already rolling down my face. “Ah!” I clutched onto the closest thing to me which happened to be Whitney who was sleeping beside me. The fear from my nightmare clung to me, not letting go.

“What?” He groaned, sounding irritated that I woke him from his beauty sleep. In response I gripped him tighter and let out a quiet sob. That seems to really wake him up as he sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. “Are you crying?” I whimpered and nodded, “What? Did baby have a nightmare?” He teased, laughing at me.

My body shook as I sobbed, “Stop i-it…” I begged and let go of his arm, instead hugging myself for comfort. I hung my head, not bothering to wipe away the tears. I couldn’t handle his teasing right now. I needed to be comforted, not made fun of.

Whitney frowned, realizing I was actually very upset. “C’mere.” He didn’t bother waiting for my response, just grabbing my waist and pulling me closer. He cupped my face, wiping away my tears with his thumb. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked sincerely, showing off his rarely seen softer side. I kept my eyes downcast, not wanting to look at him while I was crying like this. I felt embarrassed on top of my fear from my nightmare.

I sniffled, shaking my head in his grasp. “uh uh…” I tried to steady my breathing, taking shaky slow deep breaths. After a few of those, I finally met Whitney’s worried eyes. “I don’t wanna go back to sleep…” I was more than willing to lose out on some sleep if it meant I wouldn’t have another nightmare tonight. They may seem silly but they felt so real and it terrified me.

He kissed my forehead, “That’s ok, I’ll stay up with you.” He laid back on the pillows, getting comfortable and waiting for me to join him. “Come on, lay with me.” I nodded weakly, laying down on his chest. He rubbed my back comfortingly, “Do you want anything?” He asked, wanting to make me feel more comfortable.

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around him. “No, I just wanna lay with you.” I didn’t want to leave the comfort of his arms, I felt safe here. I knew he could protect me, I was safe with him.

He smiled down at me, kissing the top of my head lovingly. “Ok…let me know if you do. I’ll get it for you whatever it may be.” He was doing his best to make me feel safe and comfortable.

“Thank you...” I whispered into his chest as he continued to rub small circles on my back comfortingly.

He hummed, “Anything for my slut.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[emeraldspiral]

Top 5 Live Action Movies That Should be Remade as Animated Musicals

The Phantom of the Opera - Already a musical with a banging soundtrack. I love the 2005 live action version already, but animation would allow for more trippy fantastical visuals that blur the line between the Phantom's supernatural presence and smoke and mirror illusions. Alternatively, instead of an adaptation of the ALW musical, it could be a reimagining like Phantom of the Paradise that changes the time period and setting but keeps some of the basic plot points and uses original music.

Legend - Already had amazing visuals in live action, but some of the effects do look dated and the characters were pretty weak, so adding musical numbers could help with expressing more of the characters' personalities, what their feelings and wants are, and what flaws they're supposed to be overcoming or how they're supposed to be growing and maturing over the course of the story.

Wicked - I haven't actually seen the broadway show or the live action film, but wouldn't we all rather have an animated adaptation instead of a live action CGIfest?

The Snow Queen - I like Frozen, but it has about as much to do with the original story that inspired it as The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. Which is to say; pretty much the only thing they have in common is having a queen with the power to create snow. There are both live action adaptations and animated adaptations that follow the original plot more faithfully, but no big budget animated musicals as far as I'm aware.

Dracula - Only Bram Stoker's Dracula and like one BBC miniseries are known to actually follow the plot of the novel somewhat faithfully and I don't know of any animated versions of the story, let alone animated musicals. And I think we could always use more dark, gothic musicals, especially in animation. When's the last time we had anything in the vein of Nighmare Before Christmas or Corpse Bride? Alternatively, animated musical version of Renfield. Already an excellent movie with great visuals, but I don't see how it couldn't be improved with musical numbers and lavish animation.

[noonsoongreacts]

Graziella's on Vanderbilt

I was walking my dog one time and met a woman walking her dog too, the dog was cute and had only one pitch black eye. I said 'damn whats your dogs name' and she said 'this is Graziella Vanderbilt, becuase we love to go to Graziella's on Vanderbilt'. So I been wanting to go to this spot ever since.

Then I was watching one of them Spike Lee NYC epicenter documentaries, the one about the lock down and Jeffrey 'can you believe I played Basquiat' Wright was on it talking about Graziella's so I was like eyo i gotta go. My boy Theo was over from London and I wanted to go to a neighbourhood joint and not some unforgettable small plates, big bill type joint so we went there.

The pizza was FIRE, like one of the best pizzas I had in the city and they do half and half, the crust got like sesame seeds on it which is crazy. I got the lamb chops which in hindsight was a mistake because I imagined all them Gordon Ramsey Kitchen Nighmares episodes where the meat is frozen in the back so y'know gettin them rare probably wasn't the smartest choice but yknow, my guts is made of teflon. I got a nutella cheesecake too which was fire and wifey got a rainbow cake which she was happy about. Would go back just for the crazy pizza and the slow jams on the speaker.

[animatorweirdo]

Frozen heart: Music in the dark

You fall into middle-earth with your best friend and start a new life. 

Warning: Swearing and scary themes.

This chapter is a bit long but it might be interesting to read. 

"Run! Run! Run!" You yelled.

The ghouls screeched behind you and your friend. You two ran like crazy through the forest. The ghouls jumped from tree to tree as they pursued you two. You could hear their haunting screaming above the ground. You could also hear them from far away on the ground too. They were trying to surround you two.

You and your friend hopped over a fallen log. One of the ghouls managed to jump at you. You quickly pulled your friend over the log. The ghoul crashed into the log, breaking it in half. The ghoul would have gotten your friend if you didn't pull her away. You two didn't waste time and quickly ran away. Another ghoul appeared in front of you, blocking your way. You two screamed and ran in another direction. The ghouls were literally everywhere. You started to doubt that you two will escape alive.

"Jump!" Your friend pulled you with her and you two, then stumbled down a rocky hill. You grunted and gasped as your body rolled down the hill. Rocks and sticks under the snow hitting you and scraping your skin. You two finally managed to get to the down of the hill. The violent spinning stopped. You laid on the snowy ground, breathing heavily. Everything was stinging.

"Camilla!" You called for your friend. She appeared in front of your line of vision and quickly helped you up. You groaned when your ribs started to ache. There was a chance of broken ribs. You ignored your pain and checked if Camilla had injuries. "Come on; we need to keep moving," She said, pulling you gently. You heard hollow screaming in the distance. They were coming. You two quickly moved, and to your surprise, you two managed to find a cliff and a waterfall. There was a long drop over the cliff. The place was pretty sweet, but there was literally nowhere to go to. You two were trapped. "Are you freaking kidding me?!" Camilla yelled.

You two gasped when something dropped behind you. You two turned around and were faced with a giant ghoul. It was bigger than the other ones, and it had blood-red eyes than rotten yellow. You smelled a foul smell of death. The ghoul growled at you two, licking its sharp teeth. It was ready to devour you two. You looked around in panic. There were no more escape routes, except the waterfall if you jumped, and hope the fall won't kill you. There was a tiny chance that you two will survive, but it was better than getting eaten by a giant blood-thirsty monster.

"Hey, this might get us killed, but would you rather be food than jump off a cliff?" You asked. "Are you crazy?" Camilla asked. "Maybe, but there is a tiny chance of survival," You said. Camilla stared at you like you grew another head. She turned her attention back to the giant ghoul. It started approaching you two with hunger in its eyes. She glanced at the cliff, then at the ghoul. "Fuck it!" She yelled. She grabbed your arm and jumped over the cliff with you. You two screamed as you fell toward the bottom. You fell through a cold mist before being engulfed by cold water. You screamed from the shock the cold water gave you. Your screams were muffled by the water, and the air in your lungs turned into bubbles. It was so cold. It was like thousands of cold needles were stabbing you from every corner.

Someone suddenly grabbed your jacket and pulled you up. You gasped as you burst through the surface. The cold air struck you like a brick. Camilla pulled you out of the deep water. You stood up after your foot hit the bottom. You hugged Camilla's arm as your legs felt like jello. "Fuck, it's cold," Your teeth clattered. You turned toward Camilla. "Are you okay?" You asked. She was shaking as well. You both were dripping wet from the cold water. "Uhm... look over there," Camilla suddenly pointed out. You followed her gaze, confused, then froze when you saw people. They were wearing strange medieval clothes and were staring at you two with shocked and frightful expressions. Why were they wearing medieval clothes? You then noticed a slight change in the environment. The waterfall was gone, and it was morning. If you recalled correctly. It was still nighttime before you two jumped over the cliff. You also didn't hear the ghouls anymore. Where in the hell you two ended up to?

"Camilla... where the fuck are we?" You asked.

And that's how you two came to this world. Middle-earth, the land of humans, dwarves, elves, and orcs. There are even people called Valars and Maiars, who are like gods of this world. You and Camilla were completely dumbstruck when you heard that from the village people you met at the lake. However, you two needed to do a lot of convincing to make them believe that you were not the dark lord's servants. This dark lord guy, Morgoth was a big deal and something to be afraid of. You and Camilla, however, didn't think about it much and started traveling in this new world. It was fairly exciting, but sometimes you two got really homesick, which led you two to settle down in a nice village near the mountains of Himring and the place called Maglor's Gap. Weird names, but this was another world, so it made sense.

"Cami! I'm home!" You came through the door. The door slamming against the wall with a loud sound after you kicked it. "Can you like not break the damm door?!"Camilla yelled from the table. She had a bowl in her hands, and there was an open book on the table. You frowned in curiosity after you smelled a mild scent of coffee. "Are you still trying to make coffee out of those beans?" You asked, walking over to the table. "So what?" She asked back. "You don't know how to make coffee, and those beans aren't really coffee beans," You pointed at the bowl of green beans. "Well! It's better than nothing," Camilla continued what she was doing. You shook your head then approached the kitchen cabinets. Camilla and her caffeine addiction. It's been five months since you two came here, and she started to miss her morning coffees desperately. After you two moved into this village, she has been trying to come up with a recipe to make coffee out of the beans that closely resembled the brown coffee beans. She has tried at least five times, and every time it failed. You two ended up drinking something worse than expired milk.

You opened the cabinet, then saw something very bad. You two were out of food. Again. "Cami! There's nothing to eat!" You turned toward your best friend. "What?" She turned toward you then saw the inside of the cabinet. She groaned, knowing what an empty cabinet meant. "For fuck sake," She stated.

You two walked through the thick forest, holding baskets. It was spring, so finding food was easy since you two mostly fed of from berries and mushrooms. You two occasionally buy food from the village, but money was difficult to get in this world. Technically, you two were broke, really broke. You two sometimes do volunteer works to earn some money, but the money was not enough to feed both of you, so it was off into the forest every time the cabinet was empty. Berries and mushrooms were free.

You crouched down to pick up a batch of brown ceps. Too bad you disliked mushrooms, but it was literally one of the only things you can eat. You fell on your knees after they grew tired of crouching down too long. "You know something, a supermarket would be a really cool place right now," You said and stared at the sky. "I know, too bad credit cards are completely useless around here," Camilla answered. She sighed and stretched her legs. "We could have at least fall into a world where we can at least use our world's currency," She explained. "This world sucks. I wanna go home," You stated. Your thoughts ran back to the memory you saw the giant ghoul for the last time. You actually didn't mind getting eaten by a ghoul right now. Sounds a lot better than walking around in this world, eating berries and mushrooms. "Okay, come on, the cabinet is not gonna fill itself. We need to be back before the nightfall," Camilla stated. You mentally whined. You really didn't want to go through a forest. You wanted to go back to the house and take a nap.

After three hours of suffering and looking through a stupid forest. You two managed to fill your baskets with delicious berries and edible mushrooms. You two were currently in a large meadow. You took a big yawn and looked around the meadow. You stood under a large tree. It gave perfectly shaded from the sun. You set your basket down then sat down, leaning against the tree. "(Name)! I'm gonna go back to the village to buy some meat!" Camilla called. "Okay, I'm gonna stay here and relax a bit," You answered. "Okay, but come back before the sunset or I make dinner for myself!" She called. "Alright!" You answered. You then saw her pick up her basket and disappeared into the forest you two came from. You took a deep sigh and leaned against the tree. You then glanced at the scenery you saw in the distance. Mountains, wide-open land, and forest. It felt so same and unknown at the same time. You didn't really know what to think about it. You and Camilla encountered many types of people. You once met dwarves and that was an exciting experience. Dwarves were quite friendly folk, despite what things have been said about them. Elves and orcs were the only ones you two haven't seen. Elves could be nice to meet, but maybe not orcs. They are said to be the dark lord's servants and the most violent creatures on the earth. It's for the best that you two won't even think about them. You got more serious things to worry about, like getting some decent food on the table.

Your head laid against the bark of the tree. You yawned, and your eyes started drooping. It was peaceful. You don't even remember the last time you found peace. Your eyelids started to close slowly and it was hard to keep them open. Maybe a little nap won't hurt. You were about to close your eyes, but then you remembered something that motivated your eyes to stay open. You never slept well because of the nightmares. Every time you go to sleep, nightmares always bother you, making you wake up in the middle of the night. You were technically an insomniac. That's why you are always tired. You stared into nothingness as you tried to keep your eyes open, but they wanted to close so badly. You yawned. It's been ages since you had a good sleep. The whole thing almost sounds foreign to you,

Birds singing caught your ears. The song of the birds made the situation worse. Your eyes were harder to keep open. A yawn broke out of your mouth. Maybe a short nap won't bother. There was a tiny chance that you will catch a nightmare in such a short time.

You wake up to a sudden sound of a gust of cold wind. Your heart started beating up after you noticed there was snow everywhere. You stood up in a panic. What happened? Why it was winter out of a sudden? You looked up to the sky and saw that it was dark. You weren't sure if it was a night. The moon and the stars were missing. It was just pitch-black darkness. You gasped when you heard a deep rumbling sound from the forest. You stared at the forest where the sound came from. No, it coulnd't be. You backed away with a beating heart. You almost fell on the ground from the startle when you heard the same sound behind you. Your whole body started to shake from a familiar feeling of fear. You stared at the forest in front of you. There was nothing but darkness, but you knew. You knew what lurked in there. Stalking you. Ready to devour your whole existence.

You backed away, not breaking eye contact with the dark forest. Your back hit against the tree. Burning tears started to come out of your eyes. "Please... don't..." You fell against the tree. A familiar feeling touched your bare hands. You saw frost covering your hands under its white layer. Heavy breaths escaped your mouth. The warm air turning into a visible mist from every breath you took. You hugged yourself to protect the last bits of warmth you had. "Go away, Go away..." You begged. The tears running freely across your cheeks. You heard heavy steps coming toward you, but you didn't dare to look up to see what it was. You knew what it was, and you didn't want to look into its eyes. "Go away, please..." You were whimpering at this point.

The silence and the wind were replaced with gentle and beautiful music. You stopped shaking as the fear you felt disappeared. The beautiful music was accompanied by soft humming. Was somebody... singing? Everything suddenly became dark.

You opened your eyes and stared at the green grass in front of you. It was warm, and there was no snow. The sky was blue, and the birds flew across it with freedom. You looked at the forest. There was nothing. You dried up the tears that managed to dry up against your skin. It was just another nightmare. You almost laughed for even thinking a short nap would spare you from nightmares.

Your attention was caught by familiar music you heard in your nightmare.  You looked around the tree and saw a person playing harp. The person was obviously a male, telling from the deepness of his voice. He was quite tall and had long dark hair covering his back. What really caught your attention was his ears. They were pointy. Was he an elf?

You stood quiet and listened to his music. He was a pretty good musician. The dreadful feeling of fear you felt before was gone. You felt calm and relaxed like there was nothing to be afraid of. His humming was also very calming. You can only imagine what his voice sounded like. You were gonna take a bet that his voice was angel-like.

The music ended shortly, and the silence took over the meadow. The birds started singing, and the crickets went on with their business. You almost didn't notice how quiet it was when the elf stopped playing. It was like animals stood quiet for him to play his harp. You heard the elves had a special bond with nature, but this was the first time you got to witness that happen. The silence between you and him started to bug you. You were still literally staring at him while he didn't even know you were there. To avoid future awkwardness, it's better to say something now than nothing.

"Nice song," You said.

You almost crapped yourself when he suddenly snapped his attention toward you. His eyes were steel grey and almost sent shivers to your spine from their coldness. He was quite handsome, though, but you still better be careful with your words. He looked like he was having a bad day. "Who are you?" He demanded. Bingo, he had a great voice. You quickly regained yourself. "Sorry if I scared you, but in my defense, I was already here taking a nap before you started playing," You explained. He stared at you for a moment like he was trying to figure out if you were lying. You shifted uncomfortably, wanting to look away from his intense stare. Oh no, you managed to make this awkward, didn't you?

His expression became softer after he saw your basket and not any traces of suspicion. "I see. I apologize for my attitude. I'm having kind of a bad day," He explained. Hah, you knew it. "No worries, not every day is a good day," You said. He chuckled, which sounded like a scoff. "Unless every day is a bad day," He muttered under his breath. You frowned when you heard that. He was probably having more than just a bad day. You could offer some comfort, but you didn't know him at all, so it's better to stay out of his personal business. Silence took over the atmosphere for a while.

"So... do you live around here? I heard you don't meet elves around these parts often," You asked. He looked at you, then chuckled. "Bold words from someone who lives in elven lands," He said with an amused tone. Was he making fun out of you? "Hey! I recently moved to a village around here. I haven't gotten time to learn anything," You defended yourself. "Oh really?" He questioned with a challenging look. "Yes," You answered. He stared at you for a moment before chuckling with a tiny smile. You crossed your arms and smiled along. His mood seemed to turn positive, which was a good sign.

"What's your name?" You asked, wanting to know. "How about you tell me your name first since I was the first one to ask," He said back. You rolled your eyes. "Okay. My name is (Name). May I ask what's your name?" You answered. He chuckled. "I don't think you want to know," He said. "And why is that?" You asked. This intrigues your curiosity. "Because when I tell my name, people tend to avoid having anything to do with me," He explained. That sounded a bit dark. Telling from the tone of his voice.

"Try me," You said. He glanced at you curiously. You got guts. "My name is Maglor from the house of Feanor," He waited for your reaction. "Cool," You casually said. Okay, not what he was expecting. He stared at you curiously.

You glanced at the sky and saw the sun descending on the horizon. "I need to go," You got up then picked up your basket. "I need to be back at home before my friend starts making dinner without me," You explained. "See you around, Maglor from the house of Feanor," You waved your goodbye then walked into the forest. Maglor watched as your figure disappeared into the forest. You were... interesting for a human. He glanced at the sunset, then sighed. He got up, holding his harp against his chest. He better go back too. He glanced at the forest you disappeared into. There was a very tiny chance you two would meet again, but for some reason, he had a tingle of hope that you would meet again. He was not sure why. Maybe because he had a normal conversation with someone that didn't include the drama of his family and the damn oath. He started to walk back to his brother's fortress. The sun finally settled down, making room for the moon and allowing Varda's starts to give light to the middle-earth.

[corrodedthorn]

mirage | series teaser

>>pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader >>genre: best friends to enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of fluff if you squint >>content warning: it'll probably get really dark in general so depression, ptsd, panic attacks, suicide thoughts, near death experiences, some canon typical violence, death, murder mentions, mentions of alcohol and drugs abuse, swearing, smoking, mentions of blood, arguments, spoilers for basically all seasons, bullying, Jason (that explains everything), use of guns and knives, nighmares, a lot of miscommunication

>> long summary:

In his entire life, Eddie had one person he could call his best friend. Well, he had, because right after the well-known Starcourt Mall fire, after many weeks of secrets and lies, their paths turbulently parted. A few reckless sentences, forgotten dates and secrets that were never meant to see the light of day. That was all it took for the piercing frost of indifference to envelop them. The world around them was on fire, but their hearts remained painfully frozen. They stubbornly stayed in the cold of misunderstandings, stabbing glares and tearful words. Once so beautiful, unstoppable. Now, like strangers, they send only vague glances in each other's direction. However, after months of piercing silence on both sides, when the corpse of his schoolmate rested on the floor of Eddie’s trailer, and the city began the hunt, it is she, along with Dustin and the group, who shows up on his hideout's doorstep. The moment he saw her face, unhealed wounds began to bleed again and desperation to get answers reignited in his mind. Instead of answers, though, more and more questions were floating around in the atmosphere. Why did she come to his rescue? Why did she disappear from his life in the first place? Why were her eyes filled with a void so heart-piercing that it froze Eddie to the bone? What really happened in the summer of 1985?

READ NOW

[avatar-of-procrastination]

MADNESS AND MAYHEM — 1

A.N : Heya! So this is a mini series that i have kinda planned out. I've never written anything like this so please bear with me. Please leave a like and comment about how it is! Reblogs are always appreciated <3

English is not my first language, please pardon any errors in spelling or grammar

Summary : You , the goddess of protection and light were married to Loki. After he died Wong welcomed you to the Sanctum and you have lived there ever since, learing the ancient mystic arts. When Strange lands himself in trouble with Wanda and the Multiverse, you find yourself facing your own nighmares with him.

Pairings : Dr. Strange x platonic!reader, Loki x wife!reader, Wong x platonic!reader

Warnings : mentions of death, nightmares and all thing you can expect in a marvel fic. I have written this as a fem reader. This fic is not exactly canon compliant but takes place during the multiverse of madness. So, SPOILERS FOR M.O.M UNDER THE CUT

>>> part 2

*not my gif*

"NO NO NO. LOKI NO!!"

You woke up in cold sweat. It was the same nightmare all over again. You were having a lot of them the past few days. The image of Loki's lifeless body was still etched into your mind years after the incident. 

After deciding to ditch the idea of trying to get any more sleep, you dressed up and went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee where you met Wong. He noticed your heavy eyes and smiled sympathetically. You talked to him about the recurring nightmare and he was looking into the ancient books for a solution. He was the one who offered you a home in the Sanctum after the Loki's death. The both of you started a beautiful friendship, born out of grief over lost ones. You fought alongside the Avengers and after the defeat of Thanos, Wong insisted that you continue residing with them in the Sanctum.

Stephen was hesitant at first but he soon warmed up to you. The three of you were each others pillars in the darkest of times and you were grateful for them.

You took your cup of coffee and headed to the library. You were researching about a lost relic when Wong burst in, mumbling something about Stephen being a pain in the ass and being a literal magnet for trouble. You carefully closed the book before following Wong out the portal, and almost being squashed to death by the alien-octopus creature. 

Stephen saw the two of you exit and waved towards you, the distraction enough for the monster to swipe him off his leg.  You rolled your eyes at his stupidity before transforming your robes into your war armor.  You noticed the monster thrashing its tentacles around, causing a massive chunk of a wall to fall down on innocent civilians. You ran quickly and sent a surge of energy towards the people, creating a shield of blue energy around them. A little girl looked up at you in awe before her father dragged her away from the rubble. You heard Wong screaming at Stephen and turned to find the monster holding both of them tightly, all the while running after a young girl. Stephen managed to get himself out of the monsters grasp and you conjured a blue sword and cut ff the tentacle that held Wong. The monster wailed and thrashed around, sending you flying into a nearby wall. You grunted and stood up shakily, pretty sure you bruised your ribs and sprained your ankle during the crash.

Trying to get your bearings in control, you saw the monster climbing up a building to the little girl while Stephen flew up tried to distract it. Breathing heavily, you motioned to Wong to open a portal to the top of the building near the girl. You limped towards the black haired girl and called out to her, telling her to walk through the portal but she was frozen in fear. Stephen screamed as he uprooted a lamp post and struck the eye of the monster. Its tentacles crashed into the ledge you were on, sending both you and the girl flying down.  You quickly created a shield around you and the young girl and landed on the ground softly. Stephen and Wong ran up to you and Stephen caught the girl just as she was about to run away. Stephen and Wong were talking to the girl but you couldn't focus on their words. You felt a pair of eyed trained on you. You looked around, expecting to find someone ready to pounce on you but you only saw destroyed buildings and rubles. Shaking off the feeling, you followed Strange and America, the young girl, into the New York Sanctum.

Tags : @nova-reaper-universe

( dm me if you wanna be added <3 )

[arvandus]

Touch Pt 7

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Chapter warning: Another long chapter everyone!  Thanks so much for your patience. Trigger warnings: emotional numbness, sensory overload, PTSD-like symptoms (anxiety, fear, nighmares/flashbacks).

Recommended Chapter Song: Paralyzed by NF

Part 1   Part 6

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 7 – Aftermath

Dabi woke from a dreamless sleep, his body stiff.  Disorientation fogged his mind as he tried to place where he was, his eyes bleary.  The view of his window, the dark curtains hanging with a heavy stillness, came into focus as his blurred vision dissipated.  The angle of them seemed… off.  He turned his head slightly, the metal frame of his bed level with his gaze.

He sat up, his hand cradling his head, as he took in his surroundings.  He was on the floor, a pillow behind him where his head had rested.  His blanket was a messy heap next to him.  He had no recollection of how he ended up there.

Dabi stared around his room, noting the time of day from the light through the window – mid-afternoon. There were items scattered around his room.  Water bottles everywhere, a box of crackers on his nightstand, a ripe banana on his desk that was covered in little brown spots, and cans of soup.

Hunger hit Dabi like a truck, the need for food primal.  He pushed himself up off the floor and opened one of the cans of soup, drinking straight from the container.  It was lukewarm, but it didn’t matter.  He followed it up with the banana, gone in a matter of seconds.  There was no joy in the food; just a basic need to quell the emptiness in his gut. He grabbed a water bottle and quenched his thirst

Then, he sat on the edge of his bed, and did… nothing.  His eyes stared ahead in a dead gaze.

Time lost its meaning. Existence meant nothing.  He sat, unmoving, his mind frozen, thoughts empty. 

Minutes passed into hours.

It wasn’t until dusk began to fall that something began to shift in him.    Awareness slowly crept on him, his consciousness dragged out of a grey bog.  Time gradually returned, and a single thought surfaced in his mind.

Something was wrong. Something was… missing, but he couldn’t place it.

He looked around his room with empty eyes, seeing everything but observing nothing.  It was his room.  He knew that.  But nothing in it mattered.

He stared at the box of crackers on his nightstand.

Something… happened.  Last night. He tried to recall what it was.  Half-formed images floated to the surface of his mind, hazy and blurred.  Pills swirling down a toilet, a lake dock, sitting on the floor of his shower, your face.

He looked down at his clothes.  Was this what he was wearing before?  It didn’t seem right.

More images drifted to the surface. His bathroom door framed in yellow light.  A water bottle. Your hands.  It was like having mismatching puzzle pieces, with half of the box missing.  Nothing quite fit together, and he couldn’t remember what the picture looked like.

Before he could dwell on them, deeper, more ingrained images came to his mind.  His mother’s face.  His father’s eyes.  Dabi’s mind paused, focusing on them, waiting for a reaction that never came.  For the first time, they stirred nothing in him.

Realization slowly dawned.

He just didn’t care.

Dabi felt nothing. For anything. He was dead inside, his soul a black void where emotions were supposed to be. Even his rage was silenced – the one thing he never let go of, the one thing that defined him.  But now, he felt not even that.  He had no purpose, no intentions, no motivation.

He sat silently, aware of what was missing, and yet the severity of his predicament eluded him without his emotions to guide him.  His mind was intact, but it was a barren wasteland, devoid of color and meaning.  Thoughts still ran through his mind, but they were only facts, script on a page.  Perhaps he should be concerned. Or maybe even elated, no longer weighed down by his demons. But instead, he felt what could only be described as a gaping maw of emptiness.  He could feel the pull of it, a heavy gravity that needed to be filled with something he didn’t have and couldn’t find.

Why?  Why was he not feeling anything?

Had he finally gone insane? His mind so broken that he’d officially shut down?  He’d gone through withdrawal before, but nothing as severe as last night.  But even despite all he’d been through, he’d never been able to completely turn off his feelings like this, especially without drugs.

No, this was something else entirely.

Dabi sat there in silence, taking in every sensation, every aspect of his physical self.  It had been probably over twelve hours since he threw up the pills he stole.  He should still be struggling with the pain of his scars and the withdrawal.  But there was nothing.  There was no pain at all.  He stared at his hand as his eyes followed the staples along the bottom of his palm.  A vague memory of your fingers brushing along his skin drifted up from the cloudy depths. The faint echo of your voice followed.

‘Let me help you.’

This…emptiness…must have something to do with you.  It was the only explanation that made any sense.  Maybe if he talked to you, perhaps you could explain it to him.  Maybe then he’d understand.  Maybe you could fix it.

Then maybe… this emptiness would go away.

But Dabi couldn’t find the motivation to get up.  Instead, he stayed rooted to his bed, his eyes taking in his surroundings a second time.

His bathroom door was open, and he could see the toilet and sink from where he sat.  Flashes of memory flitted through his mind before he could barely register them.  The sight of the toilet bowl filling his vision, partially dissolved pills floating in yellow bile.  Pills falling from his cupped hands, clattering across the floor.  The memory of sitting on his shower floor returned, this time accompanied by the sound of someone humming.

So many broken pieces…

He spotted the hamper, filled with dirty towels; some of them weren’t his.  Another memory trickled forth, clearer this time – sitting on the toilet, a towel over his shoulders while someone – no, you – dried his hair for him.

‘I won’t look.’

Another piece of the puzzle. But where did it fit in the twisted, spotty timeline of last night? It must have been after the shower.  And the humming… did you sing to him?  Or was that part a dream?  Some of them had to have been dreams, or maybe hallucinations. His mother, for example, wearing a white dress.  His mind began sorting fact from fiction, and slowly the story started to take shape.  The vomiting was first; he had stolen your pills. That much he could remember – it was the clearest.  Then came… the shower, perhaps.  Then you must have dressed him and treated his scars.  What happened after that? He couldn’t seem to remember.  All that kept coming to mind was his father’s eyes.

Dabi sat with the stillness of a statue while his mind continued to dissect what he remembered, his original plan of seeking you out momentarily forgotten.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized – you were there through everything.  You were there for the vomiting. You had showered him, dried him, and dressed him. You cleaned up after him, and made sure food and water were brought in for him.  You even used your quirk to help with his pain.  Each piece of the puzzle somehow connected back to you. You were there for every moment, every step.

You never gave up on him.

Something deep within him began to stir, a part of himself that was normally kept under lock and key by the dark parts of himself.  It was something he had very little experience with, an emotion that hadn’t seen the light of day since he was a young boy.  A… warmth.  It came slowly, timidly, barely recognizable at first, disguised as a gentle ease in the set of his shoulders and the smallest curve of his stoic lips. 

Whatever you had done with your quirk was starting to wear off.  Dabi was starting to feel again.

The warmth trickled in, the only thing that could fill that empty chasm in himself, and he clung to it in desperate need. Life was beginning to have meaning again… he had meaning. Before, nothing mattered.  Now, everything mattered.

When was the last time someone had looked out for him so selflessly the way that you did?  How long were you with him?  The entire night?  His mind played over the memories of you that he could recall.  You were gentle.  You were patient.  You stayed because you cared and because despite what he’d done, you knew that he needed you.

The warmth continued to grow, bringing a sense of safety that he didn’t know was absent before.  It settled itself comfortably upon his heart like a dove, as if it had always belonged there, the soft gentleness of it stunning him to the point of breathlessness. 

For the first time in forever, he felt… loved.

The trickle became a stream, and the stream became a river. His heart tightened, his breaths coming out in heavy gasps.  He was so consumed by the impact of what he felt, that it wasn’t until he felt the droplets falling onto the backs of his palms that he realized he was crying.  He welcomed it, letting the waves crash over him, the turbulent force of this single emotion reaching every dark crevice that ever existed in his labyrinthine heart.  It consumed him in its purity, unfettered by the darkness that normally lurked in his soul.

A heavy need forced itself to the forefront of his mind, to seek out the source of this emotion, the reason for its existence.  He knew it instantly – it was you.  He wanted to see you, to be in your presence and hear your voice.  He wanted to see you smile.  He wanted to feel your touch, not for your quirk, but simply to feel the softness of your hands, to feel wanted, to know that he was worth touching.  He wanted to touch you too, to wrap his arms around you and feel your warmth, to press his forehead against yours and…

Dabi hesitated, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as his tears dried on his cheeks.  What is this??

He wanted….

He wanted you.

When did that happen?

Had it always been there, lurking, going unnoticed in the noise inside his head?  Or was this new, something bred from a single night of hardship and selfless dedication?

In that moment, it didn’t matter.  Dabi stood up from his bed.  He needed to see you, to talk to you.  What would he say?  For the first time, he didn’t know, words failing him for an emotion he’d never felt before.

Something on the floor under the edge of his bed caught his eye.  It was just barely visible, but he noticed it immediately, its whiteness contrasting with his dark wood flooring.  He bent down and picked it up, staring at the item. It was a white pill bottle, medication for insomnia.

A new memory – the sound of items falling onto the floor, crashing and clattering loudly.

Did you spill your bag last night? 

‘You just want to keep the pills for yourself.’

Dabi froze, his eyes wide. That was his voice.  Did he say that to you? The words were sharp, dripping with contempt and barely contained rage.  It was a jarring contrast to what he was feeling now.

He dropped the pill bottle as if it burned him.  It clattered loudly on the floor, and the sound of it rattled loose another piece of the puzzle.

‘where did you put it??’

His voice again.  Demanding.  Angry. Threatening.  He saw your face, exhausted, wet tears on your cheeks, eyes wide with fear.

What had he done??

Something snapped inside himself, a realization.  Nausea washed over him, sinking deep into the pit of his stomach.  It flooded the warmth he had felt before, tainting it.

Shame.

Shame at how his addiction controlled him; shame that you had to suffer because of him; shame at his affection for you, as if he had any right after what he did.  It began to consume him, morphing into a towering black cloud of guilt, its dark shadow beckoning other emotions from the depths like haunting creatures.

Dabi grabbed his head in his hands and collapsed to the floor on his knees as more emotions were set free, released by your fading quirk like guard dogs freed of their chains. The emotions came and trampled over him with sharp claws and heavy paws.  With jagged teeth, they ripped apart at the happiness he had felt minutes prior and tore into his vulnerability.

Humiliation. 

Humiliation that you had to baby him, wash him and dress him like an infant, and scold him like a child.  Humiliation that he needed you simply because he wasn’t able to handle this on his own.

Disgust.

Disgust with his lack of self-control, disgust with his own fragility.  Disgust at his feelings towards you, and the vulnerability they opened up in him, a vulnerability he couldn’t afford and didn’t want. He had cried just minutes before, overcome by emotion and all because of you.  He didn’t even know he had the capacity for tears anymore.  He recoiled from it, a sour taste in his mouth. 

Finally, anger.

Anger at your sacrificial ways, at how willing you were to put yourself in harm’s way for a man you didn’t know, a man who didn’t deserve it.  Anger at himself for giving in to your kindness and letting you get close. And anger… anger at everything. This fucked up situation, his fucked-up life, his fucked-up family and the fucked-up world they were all a part of. His mind rolled over the dark thoughts like a hard candy melting on the tongue.  It was bittersweet.  Tainted.

Addicting.

Even as the sinister emotions destroyed him, he welcomed it, embracing them for their familiarity, donning them like an old suit made just for him.

Dabi was himself again.

His eyes roamed around his room, taking it all in – the food on the desk, the makeshift bed, the pile of towels in his hamper, the abandoned white pill bottle on the floor.  You were everywhere he looked. Now, all he could think about when he thought of you was that last and final memory he could recall - your exhausted, scared, crying face – and all he could feel was the maelstrom of negative emotions tied together by the thick chain of guilt.  It weighed heavily on the newfound feeling of affection that hummed stubbornly under his skin, ever present.

Dabi closed his eyes against it.

He had to get out of here, far away from the presence of you and the cage of memories. He needed to clear his head so he could think.  He quickly stood up and dressed himself, before grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and rushing out of his bedroom.  He shrugged it on as he passed your door, forcing himself to keep his eyes in front of him.  

His feet carried him down the indoor stairwell, old and reeking of piss.  His boots pounded quickly down each step until he came out into the old lounge and bar, the only common space for the old, run-down hotel building. There, the other League members sat, watching the news over a game of cards.

Shigaraki glanced up at him as he entered.  “You look like shit.”

“Fuck you too.” Dabi replied.

Twice chimed in.  “Shouldn’t you be in bed??  We don’t want your germs!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dabi grumbled, halting briefly as he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge.

“You were sick as a dog last night.” Mr. Compress explained.

“Yeah. We all heard you.” Spinner chimed in. Magne and Twice nodded in agreement.

Dabi scoffed. “I’m fine.” He opened the can and took a swig.

Toga stood up and got uncomfortably close into Dabi’s personal space, feeling his forehead with her hand.  “Are you sure?  Y/N said you had the flu.”

Dabi felt annoyance bubble in his veins at the invasion. “Yeah, you know what, I am feeling a little nauseous.  I think I might throw up.”

Toga visibly paled and instantly backed away; she hated vomit. 

“Hey!” Spinner interjected. “Take it somewhere else!  You already got Y/N sick, we don’t need you spreading it to the rest of us.”

“What?” Dabi demanded.

Toga returned to her seat at the table.  “She hasn’t come out of her room all day.  I texted her to see if she was okay and she said she was sick too.”

Magne folded her cards down on the table and peered at Dabi over her sunglasses.  “You two sure have been spending a lot of time together…”

“What is this, high school? She’s been helping me with an injury I got on the job.” Dabi replied.  “No different from the rest of you.”

Magne reclined in her seat and took a sip from her glass. “I think she has a crush on you.  She gets flustered every time I bring you up.”

“Ew! On Dabi??” Toga scrunched up her nose. 

“What’s the matter, Toga? Jealous?” Dabi mocked.

“Why would I be jealous when I have Izuku and Ochako?” Toga said with a dreamy sigh. 

Dabi rolled his eyes at her. She was completely delusional.

Dabi’s scars on his ankles began to itch and burn.  While the others wasted his precious time with their blathering, your quirk was gradually wearing off.  It’d only be a matter of time before he’d have to come seek you out again for your help. He clenched his jaw, feeling his teeth grind from the pressure.  It was the last thing he wanted.

“I’m outta here. I got better shit to do than listen to your shitty gossip.” Dabi commented as he made his way towards the back entrance.

“Keep a low profile.” Shigaraki ordered.  “We’ve got a meeting with the Shie Hassaikai coming up soon.  We don’t want to draw unwanted attention to ourselves.”

Dabi didn’t even bother to turn around as he gave a half-assed wave, the door closing behind him.

“Someone’s a little touchy…” Mr. Compress commented in amusement.

Magne let loose a huge grin. “He didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?” Twice asked.

“That she has a crush on him.”

“Aww, do you think he likes her back?” Toga asked dreamily.  “That’d be so sweet.”

“The man could use a little love in his life.” Twice chimed in.  “He should totally hit that.”

“Dabi doesn’t like anyone but himself.” Compress commented.

“Nah, he’s just super committed to Stain’s mission.  The man’s got dedication.  I respect that.” Spinner replied.

“Of course you do.” Compress replied.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean??” Spinner demanded.

“You’re the biggest Stain fanboy I know.”

While the others continued to bicker and laugh, Shigaraki stared at the back door in silence.

 ------

Dabi inhaled a deep breath of cool air as soon as he stepped out of the building.  He hadn’t bothered to don a hoodie this time, since it wouldn’t make much difference for this seedy, poor neighborhood.  Heroes rarely patrolled here, and the ones who were assigned to this area were lower level heroes and newbies.  It was a steppingstone towards more “respectable” hero work, where the neighborhoods were less impoverished, and more money could be made.

Dabi let his feet carry him down the sidewalk, sticking to smaller side streets and dark alleyways. He didn’t care where he went, only that he needed to move his body; anything to distract from the creeping fade of your quirk while he dealt with the whirlwind of thoughts in his increasingly aching head.

Magne’s teasing words floated in his head, bouncing around like mosquito that needed to be squashed.

You had a crush on him.

Dabi hated how the words made his heart pound faster, the suggestion blossoming the smallest seed of hope in his chest.  Dabi crushed it with a scoff.  That might have been true before, but after what transpired last night, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slammed the door in his face.

The energy drink in Dabi’s hand lost its flavor, and he chucked it into the nearest trashcan. 

It was for the best.  He didn’t need any attachments, especially now that he’d finally managed to find a place where he dreams could finally be realized.  The last thing he wanted was to be diverted by something he couldn’t have; and even if he could have it (yeah fucking right), it wouldn’t last.  What would be the fucking point?

That was what he tried to tell himself, but the thoughts rang with an empty hollowness.  Instead, the only response he could find was the itchy discomfort of guilt mingling with his desire to be near you.  It filled him with a painful longing that he couldn’t control, not without his drugs to numb them.  The more he tried to ignore it, the more it nagged at him until a new emotion began to creep out of hiding.

Fear. 

Fear at losing you.

Dabi nearly faltered in his steps.

Lose you?  He never even had you to begin with.

There was no undoing what he’d done; he’d hurt you, that much he was sure.  He’d stolen from you and spewed his anger at you… and that was just from what he could remember.

A new fear, heavier and darker, blossomed like fire in his gut as his mind focused on that single thought.

What he could remember…

How far did he go?

Toga’s voice played in his mind.  ‘She hasn’t come out of her room all day.’

He knew you weren’t sick, because he wasn’t sick.  So, if you truly refused to come out of your room, was it because you were just exhausted? Or were you scared of running into him?  Were you tucked away in your room, nursing wounds that he was responsible for, wounds that others could see? 

Did he hit you? Burn you? The uncertainty made Dabi’s blood run cold. He didn’t know.  He couldn’t remember. 

Dabi knew he wasn’t a good person.  He walked a thin line between ruthless vengeance and vigilante justice, casting judgment on others and killing without shame.  He was fueled by his anger, keeping it in check by the thinnest of morality – don’t hurt children. 

Even when the Vanguard attacked the training camp, he never directly hurt any of the kids, even if they were training to become heroes.  Sure, he led others with more violent tendencies than his own, but that wasn’t his responsibility, right? He focused his efforts on distracting the teachers so they could get their targets.

Dabi gave himself a dry scoff.  Who was he kidding… if push came to shove, he would kill them; sure they were technically kids still, but they were swiftly entering adulthood, and just as responsible for the choices they made as he was at that age. They chose to be a part of that life; auditioned for it, even.

But children?  Small kids, who had yet to figure out the world?  He drew his line there.

Don’t kill kids.  But everyone else… everyone else was fair game, because everyone was guilty. Everyone had their hand to play in supporting the lie that was hero society and the damage it wrought – they were all culpable.

But you were different, right?  You weren’t a part of hero society, not anymore. That’s why you were with the League. So, you should have been safe.  But if his rage became unchained, his delicate moral center muted by desperation and pain, then there was no telling what he would do.  He already knew he had that capacity for violence.  It had never bothered him before, not once. 

Not until now. Now, it scared him.

Too many missing pieces.

He knew his rage was a wild beast and wasn’t easily tamed, yet he saw no evidence of its destruction.  On the contrary, he’d woken up on his floor with a pillow under his head.  Nothing in his room was burned, and even more telling was the fact that whatever had transpired, you’d somehow managed to make sure he was comfortable, tidied up his space a little bit, and collected your things.  If he was that angry, that desperate, how did you manage to calm him down?

Maybe you had knocked him out before he reached that point.  He wasn’t sure… he couldn’t feel any lumps or bruises on his head, but then again, your quirk was still in effect.  Or maybe you’d used your quirk somehow.  Could it even be used for that?

Or maybe it never happened at all… maybe those things he said to you weren’t real, and that image of you that was ingrained in his mind was nothing more than a nightmare.  He could only hope...

One thing was certain…

You’d stayed.  You stayed until he was unconscious, only leaving when you knew he was safe from himself.  If he really had hurt you like he’d feared, the evidence he woke up to would have shown a different story.  But there was nothing, no indication of violence.  The slightest bit of relief washed over him.  Maybe he wasn’t a complete monster after all.  Still, he wanted to see you, just to be sure.  He needed to make sure you were alright.

This brought forth a fear of a different kind. He was now painfully aware of how much he cared for you, and it scared him.  Agony was slowly creeping over his body, his legs now burning and stinging as if covered in fire ants, yet all he could think about was whether or not you were okay.  He could tolerate the physical pain, at least for the moment. What he couldn’t tolerate was the cyclone of emotions that stirred in him, some of them new, some of them old. Some of them about you, some of them about him… and some… some of them about his family.  After all, when was the last time he felt cared for?

Dabi didn’t want to think about it.  All he wanted was to tune it all out like he’d done for years.  Except this time, tuning them out was proving to be especially difficult.  Dabi normally had his drugs to help him with that part; they let him float in an almost euphoric numbness, letting only the most powerful of emotions through, most typically anger, but sometimes glee, particularly if he was finding his work especially satisfying.  This time though, he was on his own, with your quickly fading quirk and his own self-control his only tools.

A new wave of pain began to overtake him as he began to feel the pain of his scars along his sides. He faltered for a moment, ducking into an alleyway to clutch his core with his arms, as he sucked in sharp breaths through his clenched teeth.  His muscles began to ache as well. 

He was already out and about.  Maybe he could find someone during his walk… a dealer.  The streets were rife with them at this hour.  There had to be something out there that would be strong enough to fix his predicament, right?  Something that didn’t involve you.

The idea died as quickly as it had sprung up.  Dabi had already betrayed your trust once.  Doing so again, after all you’d done for him, would be the nail in the coffin. He was desperate, but not that desperate.

Not yet, at least.  If he took too long getting back to you, then that could easily change.

He was running out of time. He’d have to go back soon, but he didn’t want to, not yet.  He didn’t want to show up at your door, with only weak apologies in one hand and shame in the other, pitiful gifts compared to what you’d given him.  He was shitty with words when they really mattered, and he knew there was nothing he could say or do that could remedy the damage he’d done.  But he needed you, and deep down, despite the conflicting emotions he struggled with, he cared what you thought about him – a fact that wasn’t easy for him to recognize let alone admit to himself.  He wanted you to know that even though he was an asshole, even if you might not want to have anything more to do with him, he was still grateful for what you’d done.

Dabi needed to find a solution.  He wouldn’t return without one. 

 ------

You felt like crap. Exhaustion pulled at you from every angle, your body weak.  At least your scar no longer hurt.  Sleep had descended on you quickly, but it was anything but restful; the pain of your scar had made you drift in and out of consciousness, with no relief to be found. When you did sleep, the pain brought forth confusing nightmares made of mixed memories.  Two pairs of angry, ocean blues eyes haunted you in your dreams, melding together into a single menacing glare, burning you from the inside out.  Orange flames licked at your skin, and you had woken up panting, covered in sweat.  Nausea washed over you, forcing you from your bed to throw up in the bathroom, your body wracked with shivers.

The rest of the day was spent in and out of bed, trying to rest and forget everything but not being able to.  Nausea gave way to hunger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your room.  Your nightmares were too fresh in your brain, and you were afraid of running into Dabi, to see his blue eyes and see someone else, an angry, harsh face wreathed in flame and red hair.  Instead, you ate the granola bar that had been in your bag and drank the bottled water you always had on hand.  It helped for a little while, and you lingered in your room, answering your texts from Toga on your phone and trying to find something, anything to distract you.  You knew it’d only be a matter of time before Dabi came to knock on your door needing your help, and you didn’t want your trauma to get in the way of helping him, not after all you’d been through.

Of course, that was even if he decided to come to you anymore.  There was no telling how much he remembered or what he thought or felt.  You had heard his door open and close earlier in the day, heard the sound of his quick footsteps pass your door.  Your heart had pounded in trepidation, afraid he’d come to you before you were ready, and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat ashamed at being scared of him.

You didn’t want to fear him, but you did.  You had found yourself in the crosshairs of his anger last night, and for the briefest of moments you were genuinely afraid for your safety.  Your hands rubbed at where he had grabbed you.  There were no bruises thankfully, but you could feel the ache where his fingers had wrapped around your arms and squeezed. 

A part of you was angry, too.  Angry that Dabi had let himself get to that point, angry that he had lost control. You tried not to be – you knew you couldn’t really understand the level of suffering he was going through, and he quite literally wasn’t in his right mind when it happened.  But you couldn’t help it; you felt wronged.  You’d given so much of yourself, and each step of the way you were either met with betrayal, resistance, or anger.

Your anger wasn’t just with him, though; it was with yourself.  Why did you even let yourself get wrapped up in this?  Treating his wound is one thing; but helping him with his addiction?

You sighed.  The answer was simple: you hated to see him suffer.

Maybe it was your savior complex.  Or maybe it was the unspoken attraction you had for him. It wasn’t just physical… that part was obvious.  But there was more to him, a complexity beneath his cocky, sarcastic exterior that kept pulling you in like a moth to the flame. You could see it in his eyes when he had moments of silence, moments when he thought you weren’t looking or thought you couldn’t read his body language.  He was guarded and isolated, fueled by a motivation that was slowly destroying him. And yet… for whatever reason, he had decided to trust you, to accept your help and let you in, to help guide him through something incredibly personal.  Perhaps it was just out of desperation; it wasn’t like he had a lot of options.  But you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it.

Maybe Dabi was lonely.

Your anger slowly reduced from a boil to a simmer.  This wasn’t over; you couldn’t turn your back on him, not after all you’d both been through, not after he put his trust in you. You knew that if he knocked on your door that you’d answer it.

The fear, however… the fear lingered.  You still had to see if tonight was any better, if the hybrid treatment of your quirk and your meds were enough to help him endure his suffering until he got what he really needed.  What if it didn’t work?  Your stomach dropped at the thought.  You couldn’t survive another night like last night.  You knew you couldn’t.  Not with your own trauma lurking over your shoulder and your inability to fall back on your own medications to help you through it.  You were a giving person, but even you had your limits.

It wasn’t until dark blue dusk quickly began to surrender to evening that you finally decided to brave the confines of your room.  Your stomach was eating a hole in itself, and you knew your body needed energy if you were going to treat Dabi again tonight.

You pulled yourself out of your bed, slipping your feet into your slippers before making your way to the door.  You opened it up and nearly jumped out of your skin as Dabi’s unexpected presence filled your exit, one hand stretched out to knock, the other holding a white plastic bag that smelled suspiciously of food.

Your eyes locked with his instantly, and for the briefest of moments, the fear you had been trying to bury sprung forth, freezing you in place.  His eyes really did look like Endeavor’s.  How had you never noticed it before?  It was almost uncanny.  But before you could dwell on it further, Dabi’s voice cut through your mind.

“Hey.” He said. It was just a single word, but something in his tone made it lasso around your soul and pulled you back to the present.  It didn’t hold its usual taunt, and the anger that you’d heard last night was now complete absent.  If anything, he sounded… contrite.  Fear melted away for the moment, slithering into the back of your mind like a snake where it planned to make a home for itself.

“Hey.” You replied, lowering your eyes to focus on the details of his jacket.  Anything to not look him in the eyes again, at least not yet.  The cerulean blueness of them was too intense. 

Dabi noticed instantly, of course, and even though he expected as much, he was surprised at how much it stung him.  “I brought ramen.” He stated, holding up the bag as evidence.

Ramen.  Of all the things he decided to bring you.  The humor of it wasn’t lost on you, and you could feel your wariness melt away slightly, replaced by warm amusement.  It was a peace offering.  It obviously wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start, and oddly perfect.

A small smile teased the corners of your mouth.  “Thanks.” You replied.

Dabi’s breath caught in his throat at the sight, a wave of hope and relief hitting him unexpectedly. The strength of the emotions caught him by surprise, and he tried to tamp them down.  Damn, he really did miss his drugs.  Everything was so much more… sensitive right now.

An awkward silence fell over the two of you as you continued your standoff in the doorway, before Dabi finally spoke.  “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” You replied with a hesitant breath and opened the door enough for him to enter. You gave him a wide berth, avoiding contact even as your heart pounded in your chest. Dabi was in your room.  Again.  This time though, it felt completely different.  He seemed different.  And you knew you were different too.  You’d lost some of your warmth, your openness. 

He entered your room and seemed… lost, which was so uncharacteristic of him.  Dabi never looked lost about anything.  He always carried himself with a casual confidence that you envied.  Before, he would have easily found a spot for himself, kicking his feet up intrusively on your furniture and fixing you with a cocky, lazy grin.  This time though, there was none of that.  You couldn’t help but feel guilty as you watched him stand awkwardly in your space, unsure of where to sit or what to do.  Once again, you couldn’t help but wonder how much he remembered from the night before.

“Here,” you offered, shoving aside the pile of papers and books on your desk to make room for the bag in his hand.  He set the item down on the surface and began to untie it. You bravely moved to stand next to him, watching as he took out the chopsticks and the napkins.  You were close enough to smell the broth in the containers, making your mouth water and your stomach rumble.  Loudly.

“Hungry?” he teased as he kept his eyes trained on the bag.

“I haven’t really eaten all day.” You confessed.

“I know.” He replied.

“You do?”

“Toga told me.”

“Oh.”  You watched as he took out the containers, setting one of them in front of you with chopsticks and napkins set on top of the lid. “What kind did you get me?”

He peered at you with keen amusement. “The same kind you got me.”

“That’s fair.” You replied as you opened the lid, the steam caressing your face.  You opened your chopsticks and were about to dig in, when Dabi pulled out a third rectangular container from the bag and opened it. “You got gyoza too?”

“And mochi.” He replied.

You stared at him for the first time, and his eyes locked with yours.  This time, no fear came forth.  Instead, you felt surprised.  His eyes, usually dulled by his drugs, were now lively and swimming with emotions. He seemed… guilty. Ashamed.  He genuinely felt bad.  Some of the anger you had stored in your veins slowly began to evaporate.  So, the man had a conscience after all.  Not that you ever really doubted it, but you were glad to see he cared; and not just that… he was showing that he cared.

You gave him a soft smile. “Thanks, Dabi.  I love mochi.”

He blinked at you but kept his expression neutral before averting his eyes back to his container. “I didn’t get any drinks.” He said.

“That’s okay.” You replied.

Dabi took the mochi and the gyoza and placed them on your nightstand before making himself comfortable in your desk chair next to your bed, slurping up his noodles with his chopsticks.  You joined him, sitting comfortably on your bed while you blew on your noodles before eating them.

The two of you ate in silence, the sound of your mutual enjoyment of the shared meal filling the room. It was a heavy silence, filled with unspoken words and awkward glances. You watched Dabi as closely as you could without being invasive.  He was showing the telltale signs of pain again – back hunched, a sheen of sweat across his brow, his hand clutching his chopsticks with enough tension to show the tendons in his fingers.  But he hadn’t said anything about it yet.  He was withholding, choosing to share this meal with you instead.  You wondered why.   Was he trying to give you time to adjust to his presence, aware that you were on edge with him? Or was he scared, afraid that if he asked for your help that you’d deny him?  Or maybe he didn’t even want your help; maybe he planned to try to rough it out on his own.

Yeah, you weren’t going to let that be an option.

Despite your curious thoughts, it wasn’t until you finished your mochi and had cleared the empty containers off of your nightstand and back onto your desk, that the silence was finally broken.

“So…” you started. “How are you feeling?”  You knew it was a loaded question.  He knew it, too – you could see it in how his eyes caught yours and darted away again.

“Fine.” He replied.

“Is that why you’re sweating?” You countered.  “Please don’t lie to me, Dabi.  I deserve that much.”

He was silent for a moment, his jaw muscle twitching with tension, before he finally answered. “Everything hurts.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

You weren’t sure if he was being literal or not.  Had your quirk worn off completely?  Or were there still traces of it left, a frayed, tattered rope his only lifeline from falling full force into his withdrawal again? 

You didn’t want to wait and find out.

“Well, let’s take care of that.” You said lightheartedly, even as your heart raced with anxiety.  What if you weren’t ready?  Was your body recharged enough to be up to the task? The pain would be back, you knew that much.  And what if you failed?  

Dabi sat silently for a moment, unmoving, his mind clouded in anger as he stared at you.  He could see the fear in your eyes, plain as day, even as your tone remained casual.  He was angry at your selflessness, angry that he couldn’t say no to you.   Because even though he wanted to deny your help, he knew he couldn’t.  Pain was coursing through his body now, unrelenting, and all he wanted was for it to stop before it tore him apart, stitch by stitch.  You had everything he needed to get him through this. 

He needed you. He needed you, and it grated on him, because he knew he was a burden, even though you would never say so.  You were kind and giving, almost to a fault, and he was a selfish bastard who didn’t have the strength to cut you free and face this alone.

He looked away, defeated. “What do you need me to do?”

“Take off your shirt. I need to change your bandage anyway, and I’m going to use my quirk to numb your scars.”

He did as you said, removing his jacket and draping across the back of your chair.  The shirt followed as he slowly, painfully, pulled it off over his head.

“I won’t be able to do much for the rest of your body… but I’m hoping my drugs will be able to help with that.  The rest will be up to you.” You explained.  Dabi gave a small nod in understanding.

You had him sit on your bed where you could more easily navigate around him.  Numbing his back and changing the bandages was the easy part. It was familiar and it brought back memories of a simpler time.  Had it really only been a few days since you started treating him?  It felt like ages.

There was no conversation as you worked, Dabi in too much pain to say much of anything, and you… well, you were doing your best to hold yourself together.  You’d finished the bandaging, and now you were running your hands along his shoulder blades, your quirk seeping deep into his muscles.  Already, you could feel your senses once again begin to sharpen.  You moved your hands down the scar on his side, numbing what you could reach, the rest of it disappearing beneath his pants.  Your own scar started to itch, and the writhing snake of fear slunk out of its den, hissing a warning

You did your best to push it away.  You weren’t at your limit yet.  You could keep going.  ‘It’s okay. I’ll be okay…’

You adjusted your position until you were sitting in front of him on the plush comforter of your bed. He waited, blue eyes watching you in silence.  You were going to start at his hands and move up his arms like you had done before.  You stared at the staples on his hands, willing yourself to move, to reach out and touch him.

But you couldn’t.  You were frozen as your heart began to pound in your chest like a drum and the memories began to flood back.  The exhaustion, the nightmares, the pain… You were caught in the event horizon of your fear, unable to break free of its hold.

You couldn’t do this. You weren’t ready, you weren’t strong enough. You…

“Hey.”

Dabi’s hand covered yours, and you realized your hand was shaking.  His long fingers curled around your palm gently, and you stared at the connection, focusing on the warmth of his touch.  Your heartrate began to slow, and you watched as your fingers slowly curled around his in response.

“It’s okay.” He said. His tone sounded… tender.

You looked up, your eyes locking with his.  Sea blue stared back at you, open and raw, and suddenly you were trapped in his gaze.  You could see it – the concern, the hurt… the anger; a storm of emotions surging beneath the surface of his neutral expression. Guilt gnawed at you and you looked away.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Dabi let go of your hand, and it felt like a great wall had been thrown between the two of you, unscalable.

“It’s fine.” He said, his tone now as neutral as his expression.

“No, it’s not.” You sighed guiltily.  You clasped your hands together, missing his warmth. 

Dabi watched the gesture, longing creeping into his chest like an unwelcome guest.  He clenched his own empty hands into fists and shifted his position until he was half turned from you.  Maybe if he didn’t look at you, all of this would be easier.

Dabi leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor in contempt. “You don’t have to do this.” He said, even as his body screamed for more of your touch, to be freed from the agony he was feeling.

“Yeah I do.” You replied.

Something in Dabi snapped. “Stop it.  Stop being so fucking nice.”

You froze at the harshness of his tone, and you could feel your heart begin to pound again.  You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively, your hands covering where he had grabbed you the night before.

“Don’t do that.” You begged. The quiver in your voice made Dabi look at you again, and he was shocked to see your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Don’t be angry.

Dabi stared at you as he recalled what he had said to you last night in his withdrawal-induced rage. Looks like it wasn’t a hallucination after all.  He looked away ashamed, unable to bear the sight of you scared of him.  He took a slow breath and spoke calmly.  “I’m not angry.  I just don’t understand why this is so important to you.”

A long moment of silence passed as he listened to the shuffling sound of you drying your eyes with your hands and take a steady breath.  Each sound drove his guilt deeper and deeper into him like a splinter that would never leave.  He really was a piece of shit.

Your voice broke through his self-loathing, the quiver in it gone.  He couldn’t bring himself to look at you just yet, but he listened.  “If I give up now, then everything we went through would be for nothing.” You explained.  “And I made a promise to myself that I’d never give up.”

“Give up on what?” the words fell from Dabi’s mouth before he could stop them, hope sneaking past his lips without his permission. He regretted it instantly, but even so, he waited, hanging onto the moment, ready to drink in every word.  He wanted to hear it – to hear why you were trying so damn hard to help him.

He nearly jerked in surprise when he felt your hand take his, his eyes returning to watch you.

“Give up on you.” You replied. 

Your eyes glanced up to look at him before bashfully ducking away beneath your lashes.  Dabi felt his chest constrict and suddenly the moment took on a surrealness as a lightheadedness overtook him.  Slowly, gently, you turned his hand until the palm was facing up and began to trace your fingers along his staples.  Immediately he could feel the coolness of your quirk begin to seep into him as his chest pounded with such force that he was sure you could feel it through the veins in his wrist.

“So…” you continued.  “Let me do this.  Please.”

He stared at you, caught in breathlessness, as you returned to numbing his scars along his hand and up his arm.  He had no response as the power of your words washed over him, fulfilling a need in him he had never bothered to pursue. How could he deny you and your gift after something like that?  To do so would be an insult.

Silence blanketed the room, both of you lost in thought as you continued to work.  Your sensitivity gradually increased as you completed one arm and then moved onto the other.  The scar on your back began to transition from an itch to a stinging sensation, and you set your mouth in a thin line.  You needed a distraction.  But before you could open your mouth to start a conversation, Dabi spoke.

“Did I… hurt you?” he asked.

Out of all of the things you expected him to ask, that was definitely not it.  The question shocked you so thoroughly, that your eyes shot up to look at him as your hands stopped in their administrations.  He wasn’t looking at you; instead, his eyes seemed unfocused and in pain.  He seemed slightly worse off than a moment ago, and a sense of urgency began to surge in you.

“What do you mean?” you replied cautiously, as your hands began to move again.  Up the arm, to the shoulder.  The collarbone would be next, then his neck…

“Last night.” He clarified, as his eyes focused and looked at you.  There was still alertness in their depths, and it gave you the slightest bit of relief; you weren’t losing him just yet.

You paused for a moment, pursing your lips.  You needed to tread carefully here.  “What do you remember?”

“Not much.” He admitted. Dabi tilted his chin up slightly to give you easier access to his collarbone as he trained his gaze over your shoulder. “I know I threw up.  A lot.  And I told you to leave, which you didn’t.”

“You’re welcome.” You teased.

“I think I remember you using your quirk on my scars… just like this.”

You waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.  “Anything else?” you prodded, as your hands moved along his shoulders.

Dabi narrowed his eyes in annoyance.  He grabbed your wrists in a gentle yet firm grip, halting your touch before it reached his neck.  “You’re avoiding my question.”

You froze, realizing you’d been caught, and you could feel your body flush hot with embarrassment. You eased out of his personal space slightly, and he released his hold on you.

You began to speak, choosing your words wisely.  “You did say some harsh things.  You wanted my pills and you were mad that I wouldn’t give them to you.”

Dabi stared at you for a long moment, watching your body language closely as you once again wrapped your arms around yourself protectively.  There it was – just like before.  “Anything else?” he asked, as he stared at your posture.

You wavered, but his words cut through your hesitation.  “No lying.” He said.  “I deserve that much.”  Just like that, your own words were thrown back at you.  You lowered your arms slowly.

“You… grabbed me.” You answered. You glanced up to check his face and were met with a neutral expression. “You were trying to leave but I got in your way to stop you, and you grabbed my arms to try to move me.”

Dabi’s face was an emotionless mask.  “…anything else?”

“That’s it. You stopped yourself, and I helped you by knocking you out with my quirk.”  You couldn’t bring yourself to say more than that.  If he didn’t remember breaking down into a crying mess in front of you, then you wanted to keep it that way. 

Dabi didn’t know whether to feel relief or shame.  The two emotions warred within himself.  On one hand, he was relieved that he’d caused no serious injury to you and that he hadn’t lashed out purely out of rage, with the intent to hurt.  On the other hand, the fact that he had forcefully grabbed you melded with the mental picture that haunted him of your fear-stricken, tear-stained face. That combined with the nasty words he had yelled at you… it was no wonder you were afraid of him when he first showed up, and especially why you reacted the way you did when he got frustrated earlier.

A wave of pain washed over him and he hunched over, gritting his teeth against it.  It felt like wildfire, washing over every part of him except for those you had touched, leaving an aching chill in its wake.  His head was beginning to pound unbearably, as nausea made his gut roil.  Gradually, the symptoms subsided enough that he could straighten himself back up.  But his head felt slightly foggier than before, the throbbing ache lingering, and he couldn’t get the image of your terrified expression out of his mind.

“Are okay?” you asked, your voice forcing away the image like a gust of wind upon sand.

Dabi looked up at you, grounding himself in your eyes.  The room around him slowly sharpened back into focus.  “I’m fine.”

“Where did it hurt?” you questioned, hoping maybe it was something you could treat.

“Everywhere.”  Immediately he could see the crestfallen expression on your face, and he struggled to correct it.  “Don’t worry about it, I can handle it.  Just… keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Is it helping?” you asked, your tone hopeful.

“Yeah.” Dabi replied.  “It’s helping.”

“No lying?”

“No lying.” 

You returned to where you left off, your hands now on his neck as your delicate touch sent shivers down his spine and goosebumps along his unmarred skin.  Your hands moved from his neck to his jawline, slowly tracing the angle of his jaw to his scarred ears.  His face would be next – his cheeks, his eyes… his mouth.  Your heart began to pound wildly like the running of wild horses, and you could feel yourself start to falter in nervous anticipation.  But as soon as your hands cupped his cheeks, Dabi’s hands covered yours, halting their advance. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, his troubled eyes downcast.

A soft smile formed on your lips.  “You’re forgiven.” You replied.

You returned to cupping his face, palms across his cheeks and thumbs on the scars under his eyes. You let your quirk flow in a gentle trickle, careful not to go too deep.  But you lingered, dulling the ache behind his eyes and beneath his temples. Dabi felt his headache recede slightly, the throbbing now reduced to a dull hum.

Surprise filtered through him as his thoughts came through slightly clearer.  “You didn’t have to do that.” he said.

“I know.” You replied. “But it helps, doesn’t it?”

Dabi didn’t respond.  Instead, he stared at you while he struggled to wrangle his emotions.  He’d come here with the intention of making sure you were okay and getting the treatment he needed, while keeping his feelings in check.  He knew he couldn’t dismantle them completely, but he could try to build a wall against them, muffling their presence under the weight of his darker emotions.  But the longer he stayed here and talked to you, the worse it got.  Any sense of control he thought he had was a joke. His wall was flimsy against your gentle assault, the watchdogs of his soul chained and muzzled.

He hadn’t even intended to apologize a moment ago; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d uttered those words.  He had always viewed apologies as useless, an empty afterthought after the damage was already done. But this time the words had stuck in his throat, threatening to suffocate him if he didn’t release them.  And, as you did with all things, you met those words with compassion and understanding.

Dabi drifted out of his heavy thoughts when he noticed the absence of your touch.  You sat before him, a slight sheen of sweat along your brow and your eyes unfocused.

You were starting to reach your limit, the light in your room too bright, your clothes scratchy on your skin.  The pain in your back was growing ever worse. You could tolerate it, but it definitely hurt now, and you could feel that familiar precipice approaching.  You had managed to tackle every scar on his body except for his legs.  Did you have enough in you to finish the job? You honestly weren’t sure.  You should have gotten more sleep, eaten sooner… maybe then you’d have more in you to give.

Apprehension of a different kind suddenly crashed through your thoughts.  He was wearing pants.  He’d have to remove them to let you treat him. 

He was already sitting in front of you shirtless, and your mouth suddenly felt dry at the idea of another article of clothing missing from him. This was entirely different compared to last night… he was much more cognizant now.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Dabi began to pull his shirt back on, signaling the end of the session.  Even so, you pushed your own inhibition aside.  “Do you need anything else?” you asked.  “What about your legs?”

“It’s fine.” Dabi replied. “You’ve done enough.”

You hoped that he was right. Something crucial nagged at the back of your mind until suddenly, you remembered.  “I still need to give you those meds.  You can start taking them again, now that we’re back on schedule.”

You realized, however, that the pills were still hidden in your closet.  You chewed your lower lip; he obviously couldn’t see where you kept them. You knew better now.

“Um… I’m gonna to need you to step outside for a second, though.”

Dabi raised a curious eyebrow.  “You hid them?”

“I did.”

“Wise move.”  He got up from his spot on your bed and quietly stepped outside your room, closing the door behind him.  You tried to move as quickly as your body would allow.  You reached up to retrieve your duffle bag, your back screaming at the motion as your shirt rubbed against your scar.  Your eyes began to water reactively, but you gritted your teeth and forced them back.

Soon the pills were out of their hiding place, the duffle bag back at the top of your closet, and hopefully Dabi would be none the wiser.  You opened your door to find him leaning against the wall to your left.  He turned to face you, making no motion to enter your space again.  You were grateful… you felt exhausted, your body at its limit, and you didn’t want him to see how much pain you were really in.

You handed him three pills, like before, placing them in his palm.  He stared at them, both hating them and wanting them.  “Thanks.” He said simply.

“Do you… do you want me to stay with you tonight?” you ventured.

Dabi’s eyes shot up to stare at you, and you couldn’t mistake the slight bit of color that returned to his cheeks.  “What?”

“In case you have a rough night again.  Do you want me to stay and make sure you’ll be alright?” even as you asked, you began mentally kicking yourself; what more could you possibly do for him in your current state?  Still, you wanted to extend the offer, even just to let him know that he wasn’t alone if things got too tough.

He stared at you for a moment, mouth slightly open before he composed himself and looked back down at the pills in his hand.  “No.  I’ll be fine.”

You were learning quickly that that phrase in Dabi-speak meant ‘I’m going to suffer horribly but I’ll figure it out on my own.’  You sighed at his stubbornness, but at the same time, deep down, you felt relieved. Maybe tomorrow would be better, once you got some real sleep.

“Okay.” You replied.  “But you know I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.” He replied, as he pocketed the pills.  It was the first time he didn’t take them as soon as you handed them to him.

“Okay.  Well, good night then.”

“Good night.”

____________________________________________________

 Part 8

____________________________________________________

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[orwocolor]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Five

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Nighmares

Summary: Your friend is there for you when you need him, and maybe you’re starting to feel something more.

Author’s Note: IT FEELS GREAT TO BE BACK!!! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym.

“Y/N! I’m back!” a shout comes from the hall and a loud bang of the door closing shut announces Gwil’s return.

You struggle to get to your feet but the moment your weight shifts to your injured ankle, you hiss through gritted teeth. There is not much left to do but to remain on the couch, nonchalantly sprawled out as if the position you’ve gotten into was intended.

“Erm, Y/N?” Gwil makes a move to the kitchen when he stops dead in his tracks as he spots you lying on the couch, your legs swung over the armrest in an awkward angle.

“Did you get the ice cream?” you ask innocently to divert his attention from the obvious mishap you’ve managed to cause in his 10-minute-long absence.

His brows furrow and he licks his lips before he responds. “Yes, I did. Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard about the new yoga position?” The whole situation is so bizarre, you can’t prevent a small giggle from escaping you. “Lying sideways on a couch with one arm squashed between your body and the cushion, and with your legs hanging over the armrest in a way to successfully feel the blood in your legs draining away so that you’re sure you’re gonna have pins and needles in them afterwards for hours, well… That’s the good stuff right there, man.” Your eyes sparkle with glee and, to continue in your blatant lie, you mean to throw your hair over your shoulder as if to imply there’s no room for arguing and that the conversation is over, but as you jerk your head, instead of your hair flawlessly flying around your face in a perfect way, it gets stuck underneath your shoulder and you smack your head against a throw pillow.

Despite your burst of giggles being muffled by the pillow, your laughter is evident in the way your body uncontrollably shakes on the coach.

Gwilym is laughing now too and after quickly discarding the grocery bags at the kitchen island, he rushes to your side. With one of his strong arms supporting your back and his warm fingers taking a hold of your hand, he helps you stand up, an occasional giggle escaping either his or your lips, and sets you down again. He takes a seat right next to you and throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows arched in question and a glint of amusement still present in his blue eyes.

You let your gaze rest on his face for a moment before you spit out the truth.

“Okay, fine. I just wanted to get us some popcorn and I couldn’t recall where exactly I left it the last time the girls were over for a movie night. So, I figured I might as well find it myself. But I couldn’t find the bloody crutches…” you trail off and throw your arms in a dismissive gesture.

“Although I bet the picture of you jumping on one foot just to promptly crash down on the sofa must have been hilarious,” he starts and nudges you with his shoulder, “you should have waited for me, I’m sure I would be able to find the popcorn myself,” he continues softly and brushes a strand of your hair that has fallen to your eyes.

“Well, you were already getting the ice cream I’d sent you for, so.” You shrug and shake your head. “I guess,” you pause and look around your living room, which is uncharacteristically tidied up, the result of Gwilym’s frequent visits he’s been paying you every day since the accident. Your life hasn’t been the same since he moved next door, has it? “Nevermind.” You give him a smile, but it’s not quite reaching your eyes. “What are we having for dinner?” you ask instead, hoping he’ll drop the previous subject.

That earns you a wide grin from Gwil and you release a sigh of relief. He promptly stands up to rummage through the bags he’s brought with him; the rustle of his socks against the carpet has become a familiar sound by now.

“Ta da!” He turns around to reveal two packages of frozen vegetables.

“Really?” You can’t believe this man. “Really?” you echo with disbelief seeping to your voice.

“What?” he tries defensively. “Ever since our journey to the hospital, I’ve been craving some good ol’ risotto. And since you didn’t let me cook it for you that night from our makeshift ice-packages, I had to go and buy new ones.” He moves to the kitchen area and starts storing various items into their designated places. God, a week in your kitchen and he already knows what needs to be put where, probably orienting there much better than you do.

“The vegetable had been out of the freezer for several hours so by the time we got back, it had turned into a mush and you know it,” you shout at him to the kitchen, your voice louder so as to howl down the kitchen cabinets being open and closed again.

Gwilym’s head peers over the kitchen island.

“Spoilsport.”

“I’ve still got one hand that’s alright so don’t be surprised when a pillow lands on your head,” you say matter-of-factly but reach for remote control to turn on the telly.

“I doubt that, I know your aim,” he answers after a minute, busying himself with the meal preparations.

Oh, really? Well, in that case…

You grab one of the cushions and toss it in his direction, but it plops down on the kitchen tiles, a good six feet away from him. Gwil barks out a laugh and you groan in defeat, but when he bends down to lift the pillow from the floor and get even with you, it’s your turn to laugh out loud when the pillow almost knocks down a rubber tree standing in the opposite corner of the room.

“I’m making dinner, okay, I’m distracted!” he explains, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“And I’m injured,” you retort in the same manner.

“Peace?” he asks softly and arches his eyebrows.

“Peace,” you agree, smiling, and let him get back to cooking dinner for you.

Mindlessly flicking through the channels, you watch Gwil from the corner of your eye as he turns on the stove and tosses the vegetable into a frying pan, the water with rice already bubbling in the background.

You get lost in your thoughts as they swirl in your mind with pictures of the last couple of days.

Gwilym’s kept his promise and has been coming over to your place practically every day. Apart from cooking and keeping your flat clean and tidy, which is something you will be forever grateful for because with both of those chores you just can’t be particularly bothered even when your ankle isn’t protesting with every little movement, Gwilym has been most of all keeping you company. Jane and Charlotte have popped by every now and then to help you with showering (the bloody tube, why not just install a shower stall?) or to spend the movie night at yours on one occasion, for which Gwil has always retired to his own apartment, not meaning to intrude on your tradition.

One night, he also invited Ben to come over, of course with your permission, and all three of you played several board games. You’ve tried to repay Gwil’s care by helping him run his lines for his auditions. At first, you were absolutely awful, giggling and feeling warmth spreading across your cheeks, but soon enough you got the hang of it and managed to read the lines with pretended professionalism.

You and Gwil have also started watching several TV shows, especially the cooking and home design ones, which were the best to turn your brains off to (and occasionally doze off to) in the late evenings. Being the gentleman he is, Gwil refused to join you in your bed at first and watched the screen of your laptop form the chair snuggled in the corner of your bedroom. But eventually, he yielded to your pleading eyes and stubborn refusal to press play until he stopped being so silly. Nonetheless, he has always made sure to lie carefully on the covers of your bed even though you were tucked in so that there has remained a duvet between your bodies. Every now and then he fussed for a minute with pillows that were supporting your foot to make sure that your ankle remained elevated just to give you a sheepish smile when he noticed you were watching him with amusement.

You’re smiling now too at the picture of his lovely eyes adorned with small wrinkles in the outer corners. Holding the TV remote still in your hand, you realise you can’t find anything of interest and so you turn the TV off again.

Besides, the dinner is almost ready based on the delicious smell.

~

“So, who was it?” Jane asks matter-of-factly as she stretches her arms for you to lean on.

“That was Gwil.” Grabbing her forearms, you carefully swing your injured leg over the bathtub rim. “I must have mentioned him,” you add quickly when Jane cocks her perfectly shaped eyebrow. You avoid the eye-contact, suddenly focused on making sure the knot on the towel wrapped around your torso is tied properly.

“No, you haven’t. All you said was that your neighbour had been taking care of you.” Slinking your arm around her shoulders, you shift your weight and get yourself out of the bathtub completely. You pull your face at the odd sensation in your ankle, the pain you have been gradually becoming used to. “I only assumed you were talking about Mrs Thompson from 3A. You’re not the type to befriend your neighbours so eagerly.”

You let the last remark slip and berate yourself inwardly for not telling Jane the identity of your nurse/cleaner/companion sooner. Now it looks like you have kept it from her because there was a reason to. Which there was not. Nuh-uh.

You could have been spared of this conversation, had they not bumped into each other at your door as Jane was letting herself in and Gwil was leaving for his own flat. If only you hadn’t been so selfish, happy to be in his company, and would have let him go a few minutes sooner.

“So, who is he?” Jane presses and takes another towel from a nearby handle to wrap it around your shoulders.

No longer having the strength to keep upright, you perch yourself on the bathtub edge, the cold porcelain causing goose bumps on your thighs. “I already told you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Look, he’s just a friend, okay?” you finally give up. “He’s helping me with cooking and tidying up and overall, he’s just keeping me company. He’s currently looking for a job, which means that when he’s not auditioning for a role, he’s usually home anyway, so why not hang out together? So yes, he’s my friend.”

“I’m your friend, too, you know?” Jane offers.

“But you’ve got a full-time job and live several bus and tube stops away, not next door. It’s just a matter of proximity.”

“Aaand, what kind of proximity are we talking about here?” Jane’s eyes glint mischievously, and you spray her with droplets of water that have been clinging to your fingers. “Fine, fine,” she laughs and before handing you your bathrobe, she wipes her slightly damp face into it, which earns her a displeased groan from you.

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” she continues once she settles you on the coach, “but you can bet I’m telling Charlotte.”

You roll your eyes, but do not argue. The moment Jane makes up her mind, there’s not much you can do about it.

“Speaking of Charlotte, anything new about her birthday party?”

“I thought you would never ask!” Her eyes sparkle and she pulls out a thick notebook from her purse. “I’ve got so many ideas. Okay, hear me out. Glitter.”

“No,” you laugh out loud.

“Come on!”

“No, I’ve got the veto and I’m exercising it right now.”

“Urgh, fine.” She turns several pages. No way the idea revolving around glitter has been so elaborated.  

“A movie night party?”

“We all have had a movie-themed birthday party. And I think Charlotte’s had two already.”

“Okay, not a movie night.” She crosses out the line in her notepad and is leafing through it some more.

“Jungle.”

“Jungle?”

“Yeah, jungle. Remember, when she had visited the Panama islands, she just couldn’t stop gushing over it. Her flat is already filled with hundreds of plants so as for the decoration, we don’t have to do much. Just a couple of balloons, fruity drinks and sweets, maybe we can set the thermostat to a higher temperature. And if we don’t manage to clean it up there in time, we can say it’s just part of the décor, right?”

“I kinda like it,” you admit with a smile and Jane’s winning grin seals the deal. “Yeah, I can imagine it. Yellow and dark green balloons, some more plants, fruity drinks. I’m on board.”

“Great! And it’s not going to be so expensive either, which is more than appreciated. By the way, how are you doing financially? Is there anything I can do in this respect?”

“No, there’s no need, thank you,” you wave her off. “The sick leave is not so bad, and I’ve still got the money my grandpa left me.”

“Wait, you’ve still got that?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t figure out what to spend it on. I’ve got everything I need; you see. But I guess it’s losing its worth as time goes by. I should invest it rather sooner than later.”

“Sounds right to me.” She gives it some thought. “Oh, maybe we could throw a massive birthday party for Charlotte!”

“Look, I love you both, but no,” you giggle.

“It was worth a try,” she chirps. “We’ll plan the details next time I come around to help you shower?”

“Actually, I’m getting much better with the crunches; the wrist has almost healed. So next time, it’s gonna be without the striptease for free for you, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, dang it, you’ll rob me of the highlight of my week.”

~

You look up from your laptop screen and give Gwil a questioning look as he enters your bedroom, dragging his bag and jacket behind him. He simply drops them on the floor and crashes down next to you. Promptly closing his eyes and releasing a deep sigh, he goes motionless.

“That bad?” you ask after a few seconds of silence.

“The worst,” he groans and drags his hand down his face.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back and rub your palm against his shoulder. He peers with one eye over his splayed hand at you and the line between his brows deepens.

“It was awful,” he huffs and proceeds to stare at the ceiling as his fingers remain on his jaw.

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask and place your laptop on the floor before you twist on your side and give Gwil your complete attention.

"Yes,” he responds eventually. “Or no. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Well, we’ve got time, and if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too.”

You mean to give him a reassuring hug but because of your position on the bed, it ends up looking as if you were cuddling up to him. Once you realise your mistake, you shuffle a few inches back. Your palm, however, warm and reassuring, remains on Gwil’s chest.

“It was awful,” he echoes and turns his head to look into your eyes. “Ben and I had been waiting ages for the casting director to show up and when he did, he wasn’t ready at all, kept calling me ‘Will’, yelled at me for not reading my lines when it actually wasn’t my cue, overall dismissed my approach to the character and then he just waved me off. This time, he didn’t even bother to tell me I would be hearing from them soon.”

Your thumb starts drawing soothing circles on Gwilym’s chest as any words of reassurance die in your throat.

“I’d been nervous about that audition the whole day and for what reason?”

“Well,” you try, sure that nothing you will just say can elevate his mood. You have found out a few days ago, that the best cure for Gwil’s brooding isa  small glass of something stronger and good night sleep. But you could not exactly stay silent. “If it was really the worst, if you really reached the deep, deep bottom, then it can only get better, right?” You nudge him gently and give him a small smile which he reciprocates.

“Right,” he sighs, and his gaze falls again.

“Shall I get out the tumblers?”

“Not really,” he pauses and ponders over it. “Can we just watch something?”

“Sure!” you agree eagerly and dive down to retrieve your laptop. Quickly searching for a festive episode of Bake Off, you place the laptop on your thighs, rotating it so that Gwil can see, and after a few minutes of making up your mind, you press yourself to Gwil’s side. Although you are aware that it is going to take some time for the clouds on his brows to evaporate, a warm touch might help at least a bit.

After the first Bake Off challenge, Gwil snakes his arms beneath you and wraps it around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. And several minutes later, he feels exhaustion creeping up at him, the stressful events of the day finally taking their toll. He tries to fight the sleep, but he knows it is a losing battle.

~

A heavy weight of darkness falls on your chest and pins you down. You make an attempt to take a deep breath, but the invisible rock crashes you down. Pushing your arms upwards, you try to fight the suffocating darkness, but your palms are met with cold emptiness. Your mouth falls open and a strangled whimper escapes you, then another, until you’re screaming at the top your lungs despite making no sound at all. Your blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding loudly is cut through with a voice calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You jerk yourself to sit upright in your bed, gasping for breath with eyes wide open. You pull a face at the pain shooting in your wrist and ankle.

A pair of warm arms wrap around your torso, fingers gently stroke your sides and every slow caress wipes the god-awful nightmare far away.

“You’re good, everything is alright, you’re not alone, I’m here,” Gwil keeps muttering into your hair as he presses you to his side, his embrace firm, letting you know that everything he says is true. Taking a deep breath, you burrow your head into the crook of his neck. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but you blink them away and if one or two teardrops fall down your cheeks, they disappear on Gwil’s t-shirt, turning the material one shade darker, which no one can see anyway in the blackness-filled bedroom.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper almost inaudibly against Gwilym’s chest once you calm down and at first, you’re not even sure whether he has heard you.

After a beat of silence, you hear the soft murmur of his voice. “Oh, darling, you have nothing to apologise for. What do you need? A glass of water? Maybe I should turn on the lights?”

“No, no, just –” you take a shaking breath, “just don’t go,” you breathe out eventually.

“Never,” he says and plants a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

~

Next morning, a ray of sunshine tickles your nose. You make a face, your eyes squeezing and nose scrunching up, and shuffle further away from the window to find retreat in a shadow. You slowly open your eyes and feel the dryness in your throat. Last night surges forward in your thoughts and you are filled with mixed feelings. Loneliness, shame, connection, relief, content.

Rolling over, you almost lie down on Gwilym’s hand, his arm stretched out before him, crossing the gap between your bodies, as soft snores leave his mouth every few seconds. His sleeping state allows you to take a proper look at his face. His piercing dark blue eyes are usually those that capture your attention but now when they are hidden behind the eyelids, you get the opportunity to inspect his face more carefully. Your eyes follow the lines of his prominent nose and cheekbones, spotting the birthmark on his right cheek, and fall on his pink lips, which are slightly open in his sleep. You have to smile; he looks utterly adorable. And you are positively grinning when he hums and smacks his lips.

“Good morning,” you whisper softly in case he has not woken up yet. But an almost inaudible groan confirms your suspicion.

He blinks away his sleep and gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before his gaze falls on your face.

“Good morning,” he replies and brings his outstretched arm towards you to let his hand rub gently your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you admit truthfully and give him a smile. Meanwhile, your hand clasps over his. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he says and looks up at you through his eyelashes.

You only nod but remain silent as you relish in the peaceful moment. None of you dares to move, certain that once you do so, the spell under which you both are will break. But at the same time, you long to bring him closer to you, to cross the invisible wall that is between you, the wall built from unspoken truths and confessions. However, you also realise how precarious it is to give in to that thought. The analogy of playing with fire comes to your mind but you frown inwardly, not entirely certain it fits. No, you feel the pull and you are sure so does he, the intangible power bringing you to one another. You picture yourself as a child playing with magnets and holding them in each hand to feel them inching closer. But both remain in safe vicinity so as not to jump in your hands and attach to each other. If that happens, you know there is no going back, the force too strong to allow them to let go on their own accord.

“Jane was here yesterday,” you whisper eventually, your head going around with everything that goes on in your mind.

“Yeah?” Gwilym’s eyes flick to yours.

“Yeah. We’re going to organise a jungle-themed party for Charlotte.”

“Nice,” he says appreciatively and gives you a smile. “You still wanna bake that cake? I think we could replace blueberries and raspberries with pineapple, kiwi, and maybe mango?”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you squeeze his hand that you still hold in yours. “I would love that.”

~ 

Taglist: @lv7867, @spacedustmazzello, @queenwouldyourathers, @im-an-adult-ish, @fairestkillerqueenofall, @supernaturalee, @queenlover05, @geek-and-proud, @chlobo6​, @mrsmazzello​, @timeandpixiedust​, @kerouacsroad​, @gwilsmainhoe​

[cakesmelons]

Nightmare is tired of only being liked for his manly boobs

....he's much more that just those boobs.. :)

[ask-atwr]

time to start some wars... gif or jif? -glow anon

Mod Crossant: OH DEAR GOD NO-

Nighmare: GIF because Graphics Interchange Format.

Dream: JIF because the creator says it like that.

Nightmare:

Dream:

Ink: for the record i say gif

Horror: What the hell. It’s OBVIOUSLY jif.

Mod Crossant: GLOW ANON WHAT HAVE YOU STARTED

Error: it’s gif

Blueberry: I just say jif because it sounds like the peanut butter brand.

Stretch: Nightmare’s right, Graphics Interchange Format.

Killer: Wait, go back, the creator of gifs pronounces gif wrong?

Dust: imma sleep through this war, it’s jif by the way

Cross: I just prefer the way jif sounds. It feels weird pronouncing it with a hard G.

Red: We can’t be friends.

Cross: Good, I never wanted to be your friend anyways.

Edge: I PRONOUNCE IT THE CORRECT WAY.

Lust: Which way is that?

Edge: THE WAY THAT WON’T GET ME INVOLVED IN THIS WAR, GRAPHICS INTERCHANGE FORMAT. I PRONOUNCE THE FULL THREE WORDS EVERY TIME. I GET INTO ENOUGH CONFLICT IN UNDERFELL.

Lust: wow imagine pronouncing the full thing when you could just say jif

(Everyone except Edge makes angriness noises at each other, gradually getting louder. MC seems frozen in fear.)

[nicoletterogers]

an oath

trigger warnings: mentions of death, gun violence, survivors guilt, gun shot wounds

“Liam?”

Her own voice startled her as she called out into the familiar, empty apartment. everything was exactly the way she remembered it--piles of newspaper stacked messily on the chair by the door, jackets strewn over the couch waiting for nic to get tired of the mess and put them away. there even was the familiar smell of something cooking--for whatever reason, liam had gotten the culinary gene share for both himself and nic, and he put it to good use. it’s why family dinners were always at his place and nic was in charge of bringing the frozen garlic bread. or whatever bread side they were having. 

Tonight smelled like ziti though, which made sense why she held a long loaf of Great Value frozen garlic bread in her hand. she always preferred this version to the boxed texas toast--it felt more authentic she’d tell liam when he’d beg her for a box of that. he’d relent, always--because she was his little sister and that was the way the universe worked. at least in terms of garlic bread. 

Nic stepped cautiously into the kitchen, clutching the long loaf tighter than usual. Something didn’t feel...right, about this set up. Her eyes traced the kitchen, her detective senses triggered by the uncomfortable sensation in her chest. her vision swept the background before the began their inspection of the counters--knives, onions, san marzano tomato cans (liam only ever made fresh tomato sauce, he didn’t do the pre-made stuff). all normal, all nor--wait. her eyes caught the date on the clock in the corner and she dropped her garlic bread immediately. may 13, 2018. 

may 13, 2018. no, no it can’t be. she blinked. may 13, 2018, the clock still read and her heart stopped. 

“Liam!” she called, her voice more frantic. it felt familiar because it was familiar--it was the worst day of her life.  “Liam--Liam!” she tore through the apartment into his bedroom, where a completely confused Liam Rogers looked at her. 

“Nic? You good?” he asked, unlacing his shoes. Nic remembered that he specifically asked for sunday nights off, but since the station was working a particularly big case, he had to work earlier in the day to support. He stopped fiddling with his laces when he caught sight of her face. “Hey--hey, what’s going on?” god, she missed his voice. his voice alone almost sent her into tears. 

“I--” she couldn’t get words out. She couldn’t get anything out, because all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and never let go. “You’re still here.” Nic breathed and threw herself onto him...only to have the scene disappear and she left holding herself in a dark alley. 

Her stomach tightened and she shook her head. No, no no no. She repeated. This was some kind of sick and twisted dream--why was she here? Voices began to surround her and she ran to hide behind some trashcans on the side. nic peaked her head through a small opening and listened to her coworkers start talking 

“Oh--oh my god.” Detective Peraltiago breathed. “Fuck.” They weren’t supposed to curse on the job, but she didn’t blame him--how could anyone blame him? He was standing over his former coworker and one of his closest friends over the station. “Captain!” He called gruffly, moving quickly to escape the emotions that threatened to overtake him. “Captain, I need you here now.” 

The tone of his voice must have signaled something was definitely not right and Nic had never seen Captain Gerhardt move so fast in his life. Silence followed as she watched the two men take in the scene. Finally, Captain Gerhardt spoke into his walkie. “We’ve got a 151(a1)--corner of Michigan and 51st. Detective Liam Rogers, unresponsive, two gunshot wounds in the chest, no witnesses or perpetrators.” His voice sounded hard, clinical--and Nic felt her entire body grow cold. 

She used to think hearing about what happened on the phone was the worst way to learn--but she had been wrong. Where she stood now, looking into the scene itself--that was worse. 

“Someone’s gonna need to call Nic.” 

“Shouldn’t we wait before we--” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you know how she--”

“Captain?”

Another long silence, before it was cut short by her cell phone ringing. The groups attention flew to the trashcans but before she could make out their shouting, the scene changed again, and she was sitting on a cold stone bench in the rain.

Nic was dressed in all black--but not her usual attire. for the first time in a long time, she was in a dress. a simple black dress, but a dress nonetheless. if liam was here, she thought, he’d laugh and ask her why she thought to dress up for him. But in all honestly, she didn’t have many words to say today at all. The funeral had ended hours ago, her coworkers had left in the big black cars, even her father had made his way to grieve separately. But Nic stayed. She’d stay until she was told to leave. No amount of rain could make her move--but this was not by choice. She had found she was stuck, unable to get herself to stand or do anything but stare at the headstone directly in front of her. 

Rest In Peace Liam Samuel Rogers. April 4, 1986 to May 13, 2018. Beloved Son, Brother, and Officer.

Her eyes constantly read the gravestone, taking in the words as if she had never read them before. The pain was still as fresh for this version of Nic than it was for the version that sat there on the actual day of the funeral. Tears dropped like bullets from a machine gun onto her folded up hands, adding to the rain that was drizzling heavily over her. 

“Why did you have to go so soon?” she screamed at the grave, her ability to control her emotions becoming obsolete. “I needed you! I needed you more than you could have ever imagined and you just left!” 

Silence. 

“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. You promised me when you took this damn job you wouldn’t leave! We had plans, Liam. You were supposed to be the fun uncle, the one that taught my kids how to sneak cookies from the cookie jar and swear when I wasn’t looking! They were supposed to love you more than me and I was supposed to get into fights with you about it! Family dinners were going to get bigger, and you were gonna find someone to marry too--so then I could be the cool aunt and exact my revenge!” She wailed, dropping her face into her hands.

“You were supposed to be there the night he cheated, Liam. I was supposed to have you to comfort me. You were supposed to be in your apartment and I could go and eat ice cream and brood and not talk about anything and we could watch Jeopardy together. Or Who’s Line is it anyway. or whatever documentary you felt like you wanted to watch. And we’d sit in silence and i’d feel better. I’d be ok because I know you’d be here.

“But you left--you left with no goodbye, no warning. You walked out of that apartment and you never walked back in. I lost a piece of myself that day that I’ll never get back. And it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I should have never let you walk through that door, I should have never made you take out the trash. If I can’t protect you, Liam--who can I protect? I can’t protect you, I can’t protect Rowan, I can’t protect Gabe or Mig or Venice or Ruby or...anyone! Liam i couldn’t protect my brother, what makes me think I’m good for anything or any one!”

A strangled cry broke through her throat and Nic fell into the mud, her whole body wracked with sobs. Sobs she had been holding in for the last two years, over every imaginable piece of grief she could hold on too. her life had been one big cover up and now she could no longer cover it up. there was too much grief, too much sorrow, too much pain to hold onto any longer. 

so there she sad, full of mud, leaves and soaked by the rain that finally matched her inner turmoil. as the emotional tsunami passed, she lifted her glassy bright eyes to the headstone and sighed. 

“Liam, I--” another sob passed her lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

immediately, nic woke up with a gasp. she looked over at gabe, who seemed blissfuly unaware of her nighmare. good, she thought and slowly slipped out of the bed and onto the porch. tonight she’d sleep on the patio, among the gently swish of the wind and waves. perhaps then she might be able to be peaceful. or, perhaps, at least she could avoid waking her best friend up and ruining his sleep. if she couldn’t do anything else in her life right, at least she could do this. 

nic settles into a chair and takes a deep breathe. maybe she’d skip the sleep tonight--out here she couldn’t harm anyone else. at least for the next couple hours anyway.

( @malnatimedia​ )

[the-girl-lost-in-fandoms]

Waking up beside you // Nygmobblepot

Hiiii ! First time posting Nygmobblepot, I hope you will like it !

Also posted on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791106)

***************************************************************************************

Ed woke up on the carpet. It wasn't the weirdest place he had woken up since Gotham had became a no man's land - since he came back to life actually. And at least, this time, he remembered how he ended up there, on the floor. He had spent the evening with Oswald. They had sworn to be partners in crime and to make the city bow before them, claiming it theirs. Then they managed to find medical equipement to help Oswald sleep the whole night without too much pain, hoping that they would find a better doctor than Ed to take care of his eye the next day. The only thing that Ed couldn't quite place was why and when he had started to hold Oswald's hand.

Penguin was lying on the crouch by the fireplace. Exhausted and injured, he hadn't had too much trouble falling asleep there, without even bothering to take off his suit, ruined by blood and cuts. He was still sleeping, his hair messily falling in his face. His bandage still looked pretty clean which was a good sign. And his arm was hanging off the crouch, his fingers intertwined with Ed's.

He looked quite peaceful, only wincing every now and then - due to a bad dream possibly, but most likely from pain. Ed's thoughts went back to the past evening, when he almost stabbed the man. He knew Oswald almost did the same thing, he had noticed him taking his knife from his boot, and felt the tip of the blade between his shoulders. But once they had embraced each other, none of them had been able to do the deed. Yes, they obviously were each other's greatest weakness, but they were never stronger than when they were together. Staying together meant success and power. It meant being strong and undefeated. They needed each other, and now they knew they could trust each other.

Ed delicately removed his hand from the firm grip. And when Oswald woke up, later in the morning, Ed didn't mention it.

---

Ed woke up from his nightmare because someone was shaking him. A hand was rubbing his shoulder and a voice was calling his name, again and again. He opened his eyes to see Oswald leaning over him. The man straightened a bit and raised his hands to show he didn't mean any harm. His eyes were filled with worry which made Ed wondered how bad his nightmare had seemed from the outside. He sat up, trying to steady his breathing and ran a hand though his hair before he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Ed ?" called Oswald. "You were screaming in your sleep. Are you okay ? Can I do anything for you ?"

Ed swallowed only to notice how dry his mouth was.

"I had a nightmare. I'm fine now" he lied. "Could you please get me water ?"

"Of course." Oswald came back with a full glass that Ed emptied quickly before he put it down. None of them said anything. Ed was still lightly shaking from his bad dream. Oswald stood there awkwardly. He knew Ed was lying to him by saying he was feeling better but he didn't want to pressure him into talking about it.

"Well…"

"Can you stay with me ?" cut Ed, blurting out the words so fast he thought Oswald would not understand him.

"Of course" repeated Oswald. He sat on the edge of the bed and Ed shifted to leave him more space. They laid next to each other, without saying anything, without touching each other, simply staring at the ceilling. Oswald's presence was comforting and Ed managed to fall back asleep.

It took Ed five more nights of the same nighmare to open up to Oswald.

"It was about you" he confessed after they both laid down like they now usually did.

"What ?"

"My nightmare. I dreamt… I dreamt that you didn't make it alive. You thew yourself on that grenade for me and died in my arms. I just stayed there, frozen, unable of doing anything, and you were bleeding out, begging me to help you, to not let you die."

Oswald turned on his side and raised a hand to cup Ed's face.

"I am fine, Ed. I told you, I owed you this one, for everything I put you through." Ed opened his mouth to say something but Oswald didn't let him. "Please, let me talk. We haven't really spoken about this. I've been a bad friend. I never apologized for killing Isabella, but I am sorry. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I'm so sorry."

Oswald looked so soft, so fragile, Ed couldn't help himself. He embraced him into a hug, adjusting his arms around his body and his head on his chest.

"I forgive you" he whispered.

Surprised at first, Oswald hugged him back, rubbing his back with his hand. They held each other the whole night. It's been a while since they both slept correctly but the comfort of sleeping together was enough.

The following night, Ed rushed to Oswald's bedroom as he heard him yelling.

---

Ed woke up in Oswald's bed. Every night, one of them would wake up to hear the other crying and screaming in his sleep before rushing to his side. After a few days, Oswald started to ask Ed to stay in his room for the night. They never talked much. Sometimes they cuddled together, sometimes they barely held hands. Tonight Oswald was holding onto Ed's arm. He was crying, his tears sliding on Ed's pyjama's sleeve.

"Ed…" he cried. "Ed, please. Don't leave. Ed. Eddie, I love you, please !"

Ed sat up straight on the bed. Oswald whined as the arm he was holding slipped away. Ed looked down at him. Did he mean that ? Probably not. He was dreaming, it was his brain activity that caused him to… and yet… As he watched the small man whimpering in his sleep, his face twisted with pain, fear, sadness and tears, Ed realized that he was in love.

"Oswald." He was shaking his arm. "Oswald, wake up, please. You're fine, it's a nightmare."

Oswald opened his eyes. He was shaking and crowled a bit more into Ed's chest.

"Ed" he cried again.

"It's okay Oswald. Shhh, it's fine. You're alright."

Ed kept shushing him, whispering sweet things in his ear as he held him close. Eventually Oswald calmed down and silence embraced them.

"I'm afraid to lose you, Ed. I… I tried, I sweard I did, Ed, but I can't… I still… I still lo-"

"It's okay Oswald. I love you too. I'm here and I'm not leaving you, never."

"You do ? Love me ?"

Oswald raised his head and his gaze met Ed's. It hit Ed that no one had probably told him this since his mother and his father died. Sweet words that had lulled Oswald's childhood, words he was desperate to hear from anyone, words he would have died to hear Ed say.

Ed took Oswald's face in his hands, brushed the tears away with his thumbs. Oswald placed his own hands over his wrists, needy for any touch Ed was willing to give him. And they leaned on each other until their lips touched.

There was no rush. The soft contact of lips against lips was enough, the light pressure they both applied was enough because for now, they simply needed something, anything. The kiss turned into a soft make out session of tongues exploring mouths, hands caressing skin, until Ed pulled away.

"You should try to sleep now."

"Only if you hold me" Oswald whispered back with a smile.

"Of course."

Ed rolled on his back, pulling Oswald with him. He felt him adjusting his position until his head was in the crook of Ed's shoulder and his right arm over his torso. Ed's hands went to his back, applying pressure to feel as much of his body as possible against him.

"Say it again" Oswald asked.

"I love you. I love you, I love you."

---

Ed woke up in a mess of tangled sheets, arms and legs. He was holding tightly onto Oswald's middle with both arms. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before letting his head fall back on the pillows, forehead pressed against the bare skin of Oswald's back, resuming his position. They were both still naked from their previous evening activities but the bedsheets and their shared body warmth were enough to protect them from the cold of the morning.

Oswald groaned as he felt Ed moving. He untucked his left arm from the sheets to interwin his fingers with Ed's, his fingers carressing his the top of his hand. Ed's eyes caught the flicker of their maching rings and smiled.

They were engaged. Everything has happened so quickly since the battle for Gotham, six months ago, and Ed couldn't wait anymore. Yes, they've only been 'dating' for five months, but after everything they've been through together, they couldn't wait, couldn't let anything tear them apart ever again. Being husbands came with a bunch of practical advantages, such as visiting each other in the hospital in case of major injury, not being legally able to witness against each other, and conjugal visits in case one of them ended up in Arkham.

"Ozzie ?" Ed called, squeezing lightly his hand.

Oswald groaned again and turned to face him, replacing his body so they would stay as close as possible to each other. Their eyes met. Ed was now used to the dismatched eyes, one blue and one green. Still, they reminded him of this day, when Oswald got hurt because of him, and he hadn't forgive himself yet despite everything Oswald had said.

"Good morning, my handsome fiancé" he smiled.

He was too adorable. Oswald has never been a morning person, yet there he was, smiling because he was waking up for the first time in the arms of the man he was officially going to marry. And it was enough, being together was enough.

Ed leaned in for a kiss. It quickly turned into a second, then a third, then Oswald pushed Ed in his back and rolled over to lie on him, chest to chest. They made out for a while, until Oswald decided that they needed to get up. Ed let him take the bathroom first, mentally replaying the perfect night they had together.

He didn't know it yet, but this had been his last night with his fiancé for the next ten years.

[digital-dragoon]

aand... a vague one, one of your characters having a nighmare?

There wasn’t any blood.

Not anywhere else, except for the pool of it around Mia.

It was an instant replay. Frozen, in disbelief. In horror. Bile rising in his throat. Then… somehow, he’s closer to her, crouching beside her, hand hovering close to her arm. Wanting to reach out, test that this is all fake. That she can’t be -

A hand clutches at his, her sightless eyes turning to look at him and -

His arms are around Maya’s. They’re in the office, curled up on the sofa together. His chin resting against the top of her head as she bawls into his shirt. There’s a vague notion attached to it: why isn’t he crying too? Beneath the actions of him gently stroking her hair, gaze on the wall, but not truly seeing it.

Then the wall’s caving in, water gushing out, taking him underneath it and Maya’s disappeared and - the water burns. Lightning races through the liquid and he can’t breathe and he can see the wavering reflection of Manfred von Karma snarling down at him, roughly gripping at his throat, keeping him beneath the waves -

Phoenix rolls onto his side, grasping at the covers, coughing and choking on dry air. Then he rolls off the bed entirely in his panic. Scrabbling at his throat for a moment, he slowly begins to come to. 

Trying to even out his breathing, he slumps back against the bed’s side. “Last time I get to bed late,” he rasps, huffing out a chuckle, even though he doesn’t feel the slightest bit amused.

Running a hand through his hair, he checks the clock and groans. Half six in the morning. It’s way too early. 

… But he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be getting any sleep again any time soon, so he might as well get up.

… And ignore the fact that he’s still shaken up by… all of that. 

Being reminded of things he can’t go back in time and change.

[mathewdemekpoetry]

02-07-18 Everyone Is Evil

Everyone is evil Let the story be told They'll screw you all day Until your body is cold Everyone is wicked Inside their frozen hearts You start off losing Before the race even starts Everyone is evil Though they seem good Deep down they are monsters Walking through the neighborhood Everyone is wicked Inside their selfish brain You must escape this nighmare Before they kill again

[corrodedthorn]

mirage | masterlist

>>pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader >>genre: best friends to strangers/enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of fluff if you squint >>content warning: it'll probably get really dark in general so depression, ptsd, panic attacks, suicide thoughts, near death experiences, some canon typical violence, death, murder mentions, mentions of alcohol and drugs abuse, swearing, smoking, mentions of blood, arguments, spoilers for basically all seasons, bullying, Jason as a really bad person, vomiting, emotionally abusive parents, use of guns and knives, nighmares, a lot of miscommunication >>english is not my first language

>>summary: In his entire life, Eddie had one person he could call his best friend. Well, he had, because right after the well-known Starcourt Mall fire, after many weeks of secrets and lies, their paths turbulently parted.  A few reckless sentences, forgotten dates and secrets that were never meant to see the light of day. That was all it took for the piercing frost of indifference to envelop them.  The world around them was on fire, but their hearts remained painfully frozen. They stubbornly stayed in the cold of misunderstandings, stabbing glares and tearful words. Once so beautiful, unstoppable. Now, like strangers, they send only vague glances in each other's direction. Although months of piercing silence have passed, when the corpse of Eddie's schoolmate rested on the floor of his trailer, and Hawkins began the hunt, it is she, along with Dustin and the group, who shows up on his hideout's doorstep. Ready to protect him even at the cost of her own life. Scars start to bleed again, as Eddie desperately rips up old wounds and decides to find the answer to the question that has been tormenting him this whole time. What really happened in the summer of 1985?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

spotify playlist

Prologue: |you can't tell me why; we must separate (cataracts - dancing plague)|

Chapter 1: |they say you're getting better; but you don't feel any better (hearing damage - thom yorke)|

taglist: @awhoreforeddiemunson @peaches-roses-sins @vingtetunmars @waitlalice @mopeymopeymouse @nikt-wazny-y @fangirling-4-ever @eddiebaemunson @munsonsfairygarden @dietcokequeen06 @aedicn @anxietybbie-blog @eddiesdingus @marvelbrokeme @avengers-21 @drm2003 @the-iridescent-phoenix @hurricane-abigail @h-ness1944 @basketcaseeeeee @eddiejosephluv @authoressskr @fizzleslay @chickennug90 @princesseddie @urallidjits @dreamsofbisexualswamprats @protecteddiemunson4vr