#woke up in a cold sweat thinking abt this

[glsneeg-enthusiast]

im literally being haunted by the nightmare i had last night i dont even remember all of it anymore its just 2 images burned into my brain i have to die rn this is genuinely awful

[isatoru]

missing bg3 so bad...... feel like romancing karlach.........

[benetnvsch]

Attention everyone:

Kubokai Kunikidazai

That is all

[aengelren]

Was working and felt blood ooze down my thighs, realized I got my period and was surrounded by l male costumers and male co workers only so I had to sit like that for half an hour until a female coworker started her shift

[helianthologies]

i need to find that scorpion and the frog poem again. for mental health reasons

[greededling]

i love u laios touden.......

[walking-fnaf-encyclopedia]

i love flashlight duo as much as everyone else but like….. would evan and cassie not be absolutely incredibly good friends?

[bionic-penis]

Also sorry for the mass postings after midnight these days I'm back on my meds after not being on them for four months

[morverenmaybewrites]

wait r we allowed to send these in for characters u write for? :o

cuz i’m curious abt this one “What freaks them out the most in a relationship?” for jason

Yes, please do!

"What freaks them out most in a relationship?"| Jason Todd

Honestly, I think Jason Todd is afraid to love again, simply because of the way he loves. He tends to love wholeheartedly, without reservation, often to the point of self-destruction.

Remember that this is the man who endured at least six months worth of torture just so he wouldn't betray his father. Not a lot of people are capable of that sort of loyalty. 

To add insult to injury, it's very likely that he never got to experience any sort of positive reinforcement when it comes to loving a person.

In my Arkham fanfics, Jason's father was an abusive drunk and his mother was a junkie. While he learned to avoid his father, I'd like to think that he did hold some sort of love for his mother. He tried, in his own way, to take care of her, keep her safe.

He'd put a blanket over her when she was lost in her heroine-dreams, he'd wipe the drool from the side of her mouth, he'd leave stolen food next to her sweat-stained mattress for when she woke up. And all it ever got Jason, I imagine, was an absent-minded sort of affection. Perhaps she'd give him a vague smile, her eyes bloodshot and glassy, as if she wasn’t really seeing him, perhaps she'd ruffle his hair.

And for a long time, he'd think that was love.

Something rare, something small, but something that kept him warm all the same (for East End was a cold place), and he'd sip it like rainwater between his cupped palms, because it was all he'd ever known.

But then he gets adopted, and suddenly his perspective changes. 

Love, he realizes, can be patient. It can be his father Bruce, who somehow never got angry at him during those early days, when hope had warmed the inside of his chest like a swallowed star.

Love can be easy, he learns. It can be something as simple as Alfred, waiting up for him after a long rainy night, bringing him towels that were somehow always warm. It can be warm soup on the days that he woke up with a sore throat and a fever burning through his skin (and even to this day, he marvels at the idea that in Wayne Manor, food can come so easily--without stealing, without a fight).

But, he'll also tragically learn (or so he thinks) that love has to be earned.

I've always had this idea (and I stand by it) that Bruce did love his kids, deeply. But because of his own issues, he couldn’t love them in a way that they needed to be loved (and isn’t that true of most parents?).

It is the way Bruce never smiled at him when he was Robin. 

It is long nights of training just for a hint of his father’s approval. 

It is the constant comparison to another son, one who is faster, smarter, and better in every way. 

It is the way he thinks–and becomes terrified–that if he doesn’t earn his place in Wayne Manor, if he doesn’t earn his father’s love, he will be back in that cold place in East End where nothing can ever keep him warm again. 

And then Joker happens.

And then Joker happens. 

And no matter how strong he tried to be, how silent, no matter how much he tried to endure. 

He breaks (clean in two, a crack so wide it will never heal, you can trace the fractured seam of him and find the exact place where his heart was broken). 

Even worse, Batman breaks: he leaves Jason for dead (or so he thinks).

And a part of him will always think: is it enough? Was I not enough? 

Was it not enough to endure? To stay silent? To keep his father’s secrets?

Had Jason somehow, through some fault in his won, not done enough to earn being loved, being saved?

(Is he always going to be that small child in East End, and all he will ever know of it are vague smiles through bloodshot, glassy eyes? Was this his punishment for hoping for more? He can drink and drink and it will never be enough, the rainwater will always slip through his palms). 

And then there’s you. 

And at first he thinks it’s easy (as easy as warm soup on days when he’s feeling sick, as easy as a towel after a night in the rain), because you are brave and reckless and you are quite pretty when you smile. And it has been so long since he’s had a friend. 

It’s easy because you’re easy to be with: you read into his silences, you calm him down when he falters and you are braver than he gives you credit for (and there are days when he wishes that you are less brave). 

It is easy until one day, Jason realizes what’s happening and the first thing he thinks is that he can’t go through this again. 

He cannot be that child in East End, who follows his mother for crumbs of her affection like a dog starving for scraps.

He cannot be the boy in the Batcave, practicing over and over just so he’ll finally get to see his father’s smile

He cannot be Robin in Arkham Asylum, with a bullet hole in his chest and a brand burning on his face

And yet, and yet, Jason does not know any other way to love. 

He does not know of any other way it does not end in tragedy (and hurt and pain and betrayal). 

Oh, he is terrified. He thinks he fears you more than any other living thing in Gotham. 

To love you, he thinks, is to give you the chance to destroy him all over again. 

And he can’t, he can’t go through that again. 

(But oh, there are days Jason thinks you will be worth it.). 

[moviecritc]

second best ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x teammate!reader

summary: max realizes that your situationship isn't going anywhere, so he decides to start a pr relationship for his own public image

word count: 1K

warnings: angst, hurt without comfort

a/n: this turned out amazing actually, i'm very proud of it <3 yk i loveee to write abt this blond dutch

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

“I think it's better if we stop seeing each other.”

Y/N frowned slightly. She was under Max's arm, lying on the bed in the hotel in Imola.

“We’re on the same team, Maxie. We see each other all the time,” she said, completely oblivious to what Max was saying. She even smiled a little.

“I mean this,” Max sat up, forcing her to do the same. He swallowed a bit. “I think we should stop sleeping together.”

Y/N pressed her lips together and wiped the trace of sweat from her forehead. “Oh,” was all she could articulate as she chewed over that sentence. “Why?”

“For our careers,” he said immediately, as if he had it premeditated. “There are already a lot of rumors, if this got out…”

“What?” That didn’t make any sense. “We've been sleeping together for over a year, and now all of a sudden you're worried about rumors. Don’t bullshit me, Max. What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N felt around the edge of the bed, searching for her underwear.

“I'm telling you, this is affecting our careers.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and stood up, finishing getting dressed. “Bullshit, Max. When you want to tell me what's really going on, let me know.”

Y/N left the room, slamming the door. Max leaned back, knowing that Y/N was right. It wasn’t about their careers, but about the pressure. His father and the rest of the team were pressuring him to have a relationship with a model, and YN was an obstacle in that equation.

Max never explained anything to her. They stopped seeing each other outside of work environments and even while working, they avoided each other as much as possible. Y/N refused to feel hurt. It wasn’t a breakup because there was nothing to break. In the end, they were just two teammates with too much sexual tension to satisfy. Even if that tension lasted a year and a half, three vacations together, a Christmas dinner, and countless private dates.

Y/N was determined to move on, focusing on her job, fighting for the title, and maybe—just maybe—accepting that date with Carlos at the end of the season.

But Max had other ideas, because two weeks after the breakup, the pages were on fire because finally, someone had conquered the cold heart of Max Verstappen. He and a woman nine years older had been seen dining and kissing in Monaco.

She was surprised, that was the last thing she expected from Max. Nine years older than him. Y/N couldn't help but dig a little, stalking her profile and seeing how pretty she was. That really hurt, had it meant so little to him?

Y/N flew to Monaco alone when she used to go in Max's private jet. From then on, she realized how much Max was in her routine. Arriving at her apartment, she found it cold with the plants dried up; she hardly had any clothes there. She knew she’d have to write to Max to get her things back, but she delayed it as long as possible—which wasn’t long. Y/N wrote to her friends to see if they wanted to go out, but no one responded; she hadn't written to them in over four months.

She spent that night alone at home, looking at her phone every now and then without expecting any messages. She found herself drinking and then went out for a walk, desperate to feel something. The next morning, photos of her were out, looking horrible with traces of mascara under her eyes. She also woke up to a simple message from Max:

Can we meet?

They agreed to meet at her apartment, Y/N knew the way almost with her eyes closed.

“Good morning,” said Max. He looked as usual, shorts and a t-shirt, a bit of gel in his hair, and clean-shaven.

“Hello,” Y/N said, clearing her throat. She stood still at the door until Max motioned for her to come in.

“Come in, please,” he said calmly. She nodded and entered, looking for traces of that woman, though the apartment still smelled of her perfume.

“Is she not here?” she asked, turning on her heels to look at him.

“No. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You want to talk to me about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

She let out a laugh, the same thing she had told her friends at a dinner while he had a hand almost reaching her inner thigh.

“You never have girlfriends, do you?”

“Y/N, it’s not what you think.”

She crossed her arms. “You know what I think? I think you’re a hypocrite. A damn hypocrite who, because I didn’t suit him, found someone easier.”

Max approached Y/N. “It’s PR, they forced me.”

“They forced you?” she let out a painful laugh. “Did they force you before or after ending things with us?”

Max stayed silent. They had pressured him, but the final decision had been his. He couldn’t find a way to explain himself. That silence meant everything to Y/N.

“You're pathetic. Totally pathetic.”

“Y/N, I’m sor-” he took half a step towards her but backed off immediately.

“Bullshit,” Y/N exploded. “Do you think apologizing is enough? You treated me like a fucking toy, damn it.”

“I didn't… I never wanted to hurt you,” Max choked on his words.

“But neither did you want to treat me well.”

Max stayed silent, feeling like the stupidest man on earth. He wanted to shout that she was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time while kissing her until he ran out of breath. But he said nothing. Y/N looked away with a long sigh.

“I’m going to collect my clothes,” she said, clearly disappointed in her voice. She hoped that Max would follow her, not let her pack her things and beg her to stay. That he’d tell her she was worthy of love.

Max waited, sitting on his couch, running his hands over his face, searching for the words.

Y/N came out of the room and walked past the living room, intending to leave without saying goodbye.

“I'll break up with Kelly,” Max stood up, stopping her with his words.

“Do you think that will help? You’ll still hide me as if you’re ashamed.”

“Y/N…” He couldn’t find the words.

“No. I'm leaving. I'm tired. Of you and all your crap.”

[wttcsms]

thinking abt how in my sae fic, despite being the one to break up with you and moving to an entirely different country out of the blue, sae still dreams about you. it’s a nightmare because in this fantasy, you’re the one leaving. you’re the one just out of reach. he wakes up in a cold sweat, frustrated at himself — not because he’s dreaming of you, but because he woke up. you were right there, and now all he sees is the darkness of his bedroom. he tries his hardest to go back to sleep, to prolong the bad dream. it gives him another chance to see you again.

(so, he supposes it wasn’t really ever a bad dream then.)

[gas-stxtion-a]

Jack's head is starting to swim at Silco's words, and he feels his hands starting to tremble ever so slightly. He hates to argue about this, about anything, but this is important to him. Yes, he's almost died at the gas station more times than he can count, but he can't just leave it behind that easily, even though he wants to. But how does he make Silco understand that when even he doesn't know how to put this into words?

"But-" Jack cringes even as the word leaves his mouth, feeling very much like a petulant child. Silco's right, isn't he? He doesn't have to go back. Why does this matter so much to him, aside from a burning reluctance to leave behind the only job he's been able to keep since high school? His skin is itching something fierce, and in that moment he wants nothing more than to scratch and claw until he reaches bone, as if that would make the problem go away. He can feel his breathing starting to pick up, and he immediately forces it back. This isn't the fucking time for him to break down like a pathetic little bitch.

"I have to," he says, more to himself than anything. "O-Or at least I have to make sure it's still running, I-" He realizes he was about to say that he's afraid of being fired, and the thought makes him want to laugh.

Some part of Jack knows that, realistically, there wasn't much, if any, risk of him being fired when the owners were alive. They'd made it clear to him on more than one occasion that they wanted him to stay working there as long as he was capable of doing so (and perhaps even longer, as long as he was still breathing). Hell, the one time he was fired, they immediately retracted the decision and told him to come back to work that same day.

When Silco yanks Jack towards him, Jack stumbles, almost losing his footing but managing to correct himself just in time. The rough treatment barely even registers amid the rising buzz in his brain, the itch driving red-hot needles into his skin. All he wants is to make the feeling go away, but he knows that clawing at himself and making himself bleed right now would only upset Silco more, so he satisfies himself by biting down hard on his bottom lip.

"I do," he says, "I've always owed them. Fuck, who else was gonna hire a stupid, depressed eighteen-year-old who's gonna die any day now? Yeah, the-they were shitty, but they gave me a chance." Jack's mouth tastes like blood as he speaks. "And, shit, I mean, I already got their fucking daughter killed! If-" He can feel tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and he blinks them away before they can start to fall.

"If I just let their business die, too, then I really did fuck them over, huh? Christ, I ruined a whole fucking family." In the heat of the moment, Jack doesn't quite realize that this isn't something he's told Silco about before, aside from vaguely alluding to it a few times. Talking about her is always a struggle and a half for him, after all. (Not that he ever wants to keep secrets from the man he loves, of course, but telling anyone about Sabi- her feels like baring all the ugliest, worst parts of his soul.)

By now, Jack feels sick to his stomach, and he wants to sit down, but he doesn't want to let go. His cold, clammy hand resting on Silco's is still trembling, and he bites his lip again, harder this time, to try and make the feeling go away. It almost works.

"Jerry's worked alone like once, yeah," he admits, "a-and he was fine after, I think." Jack doesn't remember it very well, and that realization nearly sends him spiraling in a completely different direction. "But, fuck, I-I can't just leave him high and dry while barely giving him any notice. Maybe he wouldn't mind, but-" Jack has to stop himself from gripping Silco's hand a little too tightly. While he knows he's not strong enough to really do any damage, it's not something he wants to risk.

While Jack struggles to calm himself down, Silco seems to take a different approach, and Jack startles slightly when Silco lays his free hand on Jack's. The touch, while unexpected in a moment where he already wants desperately to peel his skin off, calms him slightly, reassuring him just a tad. Normally, being touched like that when he's on the verge of a meltdown would push him over the edge, but in this case, it feels grounding, almost. The itch is still there, but Jack forces himself not to focus on it. Instead, he focuses on Silco.

It takes a moment for Silco's words to fully register as Jack's shoulders droop and he hangs his head. He shakes his head slightly at the remark about how Jack could easily tear the gas station down if he wanted, but there's something aching in his eyes as he looks back up at Silco.

"I..." He swallows. "You're... you're right, yeah." He snorts, a broken little sound, and sighs. "Fuck, I used to really hate them for never taking any shifts themselves, but I-I can't really blame them, I guess. It really is a fucking shithole." Jack takes a breath, shaky and shallow. "Okay, yeah, I-I can hire some people, that's good, a-and I can make sure that they can keep the place together while not killing themselves or each other like the o-old owners were always worried about." He stops chewing on his bottom lip, relaxing ever so slightly despite the blood in his mouth. Silco's grip on his wrist loosens, but Jack makes no move to remove it.

"I-I just need to make sure the people there can take care of it," he continues, more to himself than anything, "s-so everything will be okay." Jack's eyes fall closed for a moment before he opens them again. God, he feels pathetic right now, but he really feels like he needs to sit down. First, though, he needs to make sure... "If I... don't go in, I can stay with you today, right?" He hates how unsure his voice sounds. "I-I won't get in the way of anything important, I promise-" Jack forces himself to stop talking before he can start babbling again.

Silco had been expecting and dreading Jack’s response, all that stuff about his obligation to the previous owners.  Of course, he values loyalty, but even Silco killed to get out of a terrible, exploitative job.  Even he can admit that the concept of loyalty is not strictly black and white, although he considers it to be significantly less gray than most other things.  He expects Jack to be loyal to him, but they’re good together, and the gas station has never brought him anything other than pain.  Well, maybe his friends, but how many limbs does the man have to lose before he realizes that the cons far outweigh the pros?

“You don’t have to,” Silco insists, shaking his head.  “If you don’t want to, don’t go in.”  Jack is technically the place’s boss now, which means there is no risk of him being fired if he refuses to show up.  Hell, there probably wasn’t even a risk of that when the owners were alive.  They would have done everything in their power to keep Jack there—wouldn’t have fired him, wouldn’t have let him quit—and it’s awful that they have the same hold on him, even from the grave.  You shouldn’t remain loyal to someone who only wants to exploit you.

“And to hell with the old owners,” he snaps, pulling Jack towards him.  He does not mean to get a little rough, and he is not fully conscious of just how forceful he is being.  “What did they ever do for you?  All you ever did when they were alive was complain about how little they care about the gas station, about you, about anything—and now, all of a sudden, you owe them?”  There is a flash in Silco’s disparate eyes, one that says if the previous owners were still alive, they would not be for long.

Jack is right in that none of that is particularly reassuring for Silco.  He knows the other man rambles when he gets anxious, and the word vomit is just proof that he is not confident in anything, he is saying.  Besides, what will a shotgun do against demons who can rip fully grown men into ribbons in a matter of seconds?  And all of that about Jerry, too—Silco likes Jerry, but what if he actually runs off to the woods to smoke like Jack says he might?

“Hasn’t Jerry worked by himself plenty of times, too?  I don’t see why you need to be there with him.”  Maybe it’s selfish and unfair to expect Jack’s friends to stay in harm’s way, but Silco doesn’t care as long as Jack is safe.  “You can call him and tell him you won’t be in.  I’m sure he would understand.”  The good thing about Jerry is that nothing seems to bother him, so he won’t think Jack a bad person if he wants to take the day off.

Then, Silco gets an idea about how he might leverage Jack’s desire to follow the previous owners’ example to his benefit.  “You’re right,” he says, laying his free hand over Jack’s cold fingers.  “They did trust it to you, and that means you can do whatever you want with it.  You can hire as many employees as you want—after all, they didn’t pick up any shifts themselves.”  That was something they discussed once when they talked about Jack quitting.  Silco said the owners could pick up shifts themselves, but Jack insisted they wouldn’t.  Now he is here, still acting like an employee, even though he is so much more than that.  “You could conduct the interviews yourself and only hire the ones you think are capable, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about things falling apart in your absence.  That’s what I do, too—employ competent people I can trust to complete the tasks I need them to do.”

Now, Silco is rambling, not wanting to give Jack the opportunity to cut in with more arguments and excuses.  “And it’s yours now, you own it.  You could tear the whole damn thing to the ground if you want.”  He tightens his grip on Jack’s fingers, loosens the grip on his wrist.  “We could have a demo crew out there tomorrow, Jack.”  Honestly, that’s what he wants to do more than anything, and if he respected Jack less, he would tear the station down without consulting him.

“You don’t owe anyone anything, and you’ve more than earned the right to do whatever you want with the place.  The old owners are dead, and you never really liked them much.”  For as blunt and callous as that is, it’s no less true.  “Who cares what they would want for it?”

[casses-trenchcoat]

I literally just woke up in a cold sweat my first thought being spn. Actually i was thinking abt it in my sleep. Nothing specific just. Like all the characters were racing through my mind and then when i started doing things and even half an hour later theyre still constantly in the back of my head LEAVE ME ALONE!! WHEN A HYPERFIXATION GETS SO BAD I LITERALLY CAN'T STOP THINKING ABT THEM NO LEAVENME AOOEN NO

often when i hyperfixate on smthn enough i will genuinely. Have sleepless nights bc I won't be fully sleeping bc my subconscious is thinking abt that thing constantly and i either have like a million dreams about it or none but that media like plays in my head all damn night LEIKEKDIDKDJSISJKFMSALDNJDDND this happened with umbrella academy when i was 9 and it was the worst a hyperfixation obsession got NOW IT'S JUST AS BAD BUT SPN NOOOOSKENSKSSKSNJS

[staarlight-snow]

Reflections in the Murky Waters

[Short sequel to Murky Waters - Island of the Slaughtered]

TW: panic attacks (??), nightmares, ig horror, mentioned death

"Well, hoping is the only thing we can do right now.. Why not make the most of it? Right Noah?"

-

Cody jumped up from where he lay in cold sweat, tightly gripping at his shirt. His breathing was heavy and he felt tears run down his cheeks. He softly groaned – covering his ears with both his hands, his surroundings were quiet but his mind was loud. He winced at every memory, every thought and every imagery that stayed in his mind

"Another nightmare again?" A soft voice spoke, shuffling in her side of the cabin. "S-sorry.. Did I wake you?" Cody asked, moving his hands away from where they were. "No.." Gwen whispered, moving closer to the other. "I'm having trouble sleeping.. It's like every time I close my eyes I can hear him call my name." She vented, staring at the rotting wooden floor beneath them.

"Yeah.. I get the feeling. I have this.. recurring dream." He confessed, picking at the seams of his jeans. "Yeah? Want to talk about it?" Gwen offered, tilting her head as she looked at the boy. Cody took a deep breath and closed his eyes, images flashing in his mind. "It starts out with me, I walk out of the cabin holding some stuff. And I look out in the forest and he's there.. He's alive." He dragged out that last part with pain in his voice.

"I make my way towards him but.." He stopped for a moment. He hated this part. "E-every damn time I could even get close to him.. He gets pulled into the forest.. A-and it's quick! I ran after him, as fast as I could. Every night I go to bed, I try to save him.. even if it's only in my dream.." He breathed out, his voice getting weaker by the second. He's never confided these dreams with anyone before. He never thought talking about them could be just as painful as having them.

"But no matter how I try and what I do.. I couldn't save him." Tears were streaming down his face and his voice was broken. It was a pain to hear it. "Heh.. There was this one time, I managed to get to him in time. I had his hand in mine. And I was pulling him out of the water but something was also pulling him down. He told me 'Let go because it'll hurt more if you keep dwelling on it' I-I don't know if that was my brain telling me to get over it or.. if it was actually Noah.." Cody finished, he opened his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

Gwen moved her hand to the others back to console him. "It takes time to heal and right now, everyone in this cabin needs it but I think our main focus right now is to survive.. There's no point in healing if you know you'll get hurt again the next day." She sighed in defeat. It was like every slither of hope they had was slowly drifting away and all they had left was their lives. "Surviving? What's the point! There's nothing to live for anymore." Cody cried. "Don't say that!" Gwen scolded, furrowing her eyebrows.

"We promised we'd get out together.. And that's what I had going for me.. It's not like someone's waiting for me at home anyway." He muttered in between sobs, moving his legs closer to his chest. Gwen looked at the other and sighed. "Can you atleast promise me we'll both get out of here? You and me.." She asked. Cody slumped over and rested his chin on top of his knees.

"It's what they would've wanted.." He answered. "You're right.. They're our friends, they only want what's best for us." Gwen smiled, to which Cody returned. They hadn't smiled in a while – they never found a reason to anyway.

Maybe this time the world will be fair.

--

i woke up and immediately thought, "man cody's brain chemistry must've been fucked lmao.. lemme write abt that" HUAHAUAHUA I CRAVE ANGST RAGHH 👺👺 *feral gremlin noises*

anyway this isnt me shipping gwen and cody, unless u wanna view it that way ig 🤨 i just think they'll hv a kind of bond and comfort in one another ngl 😔

[jvnluvr]

author’s note: sooo, long time no see haha. i haven’t been able to write blue lock stuff lately n i’m sorry about that. hsr has kinda been in my mind lately, especially dan heng/imbibitor lunae for those of you who know. idk if many of my followers even know abt hsr but those who followed the tags, i hope u enjoy. mostly self indulgent btw, it’s very short and i wrote it on a whim at 2am.

ft. dan heng x f!reader

ever since you joined the express, you were able to see a side of dan heng nobody else was really able to crack. he was able to feel atleast somewhat vulnerable with you, and you both cherished your moments together when it came to trailblazing.

of course, you all sleep in separate rooms. but you both have shared with each other that sometimes you get nightmares. the type to where you can’t find yourself falling back asleep once you’ve been through the experience. usually when this happens for you, you tend to catch up on other things in the middle of the night.

but this particular night, you woke up in a cold sweat, a pang of fear hitting your stomach, and it continued to linger. trying to distract yourself was futile, so your body moved on it’s own. you slowly opened your door, walking a mere couple of steps as you found yourself slowly opening dan heng’s door, as knocking would have made too much noise.

he’s awake, to your surprise, casual clothing and in bed, reading a book with a tiny light source near him. however, his head strikes up as he hears his door open, but his tension is relieved when he sees it’s you. you’re rubbing your eyes as you close the door behind you, and you never really planned out what you were going to say to him, as you’ve never done this before.

“um.. ah..” you whisper out in the dimly lit room. “i can leave if you want but— just uh.. ‘had a nightmare and i don’t know why but i got up and here i was—” you let out a breath, exasperated just thinking about your nightmare from before. you look back at him and his eyes urge you to come closer and so you do.

you continue to walk until your sitting in front of him, and you explain properly what happened. he intently listens to you, secretly admiring you in the process though. his fingers slightly graze over yours, like a request, to which you invite him in, intertwining your fingers together as you unexpectedly wrap your arms around him, bringing him in for a hug.

at first, you don’t feel him reciprocate your action, to which you get scared. maybe you did step too far? you try and pull back quickly, but his arms instinctively wrap around your waist, keeping you in his lap as you breathe the same air.

“you can sleep here tonight, i don’t mind.” he whispers in your ear, not only rubbing small circles on your back, but also pressing a very delicate kiss against your cheek. you’re shocked to say the least, but maybe your sleepy mind is completely out of energy to even question why dan heng was acting like this. maybe he knew you wouldn’t ask.

it comes almost naturally to the two of you as he closes the light he was once using to read. he lies you both down, keeping his arms around you as your legs start to tangle together. you feel dizzy with love as you quickly drift off to sleep, feeling safe in his arms. however, dan heng stays awake a little longer, to look at you and quickly say a small “i love you.” before falling asleep beside you.