#{nightmares}

Poof! An anonymous fear submitted to deepdarkfears.com/submit - thanks!

Zdzisław Beksiński (1929–2005), “Pendulum” [detail]

☽ the impossible logic that makes sense in the dream but collapses when you wake.

☽ running fast but somehow not moving at all.

☽ teeth falling out, hair unraveling, doors melting into walls, the body as a horror show.

☽ familiar places twisted into something wrong: your house, but endless hallways; your school, but empty.

☽ monsters that are blurry but terrifying, because your brain fills in the worst.

☽ screaming as loud as you can but no sound comes out.

falling forever and never hitting the ground.

☽ waking up breathless, heart hammering, body drenched in sweat.

☽ fragments sticking with you all day, a face, a sound, a feeling you can’t shake.

☽ confusing the dream with memory; wondering if it really happened.

☽ the relief of waking up, immediately followed by dread as you realize the dream mood lingers.

☽ trying to explain it to someone else and realizing how absurd it sounds.

☽ dreaming about people you know, but they act wrong, uncanny, cruel.

☽ dream logic deaths that feel real grief.

☽ sleep paralysis: the in-between, trapped in your body while the nightmare leaks into reality.

☽ nights when the same dream loops, like a broken record you can’t escape.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female reader

Summary: Steve always knows how to calm you down.

Warnings: panic attack. hurt/comfort. dating Steve Harrington. simple as that.

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Steve’s awake instantly. 

He sits up, heart pounding, because you’re not just tossing around beside him - you’re shaking. Breath coming too fast and too shallow. A broken sound escaped your throat. 

„Hey. Hey …“ His hands are on you gently and careful, not trapping. „It’s me. Steve. You’re okay, sweetheart.“ 

You can’t hear him yet. The nightmares tight grip shutting down all of your senses. Your eyes are open but not there. Chest rising and falling too fast. 

„Oh no, no, no,“ he murmurs, sliding closer, pulling you against him. „Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.“ 

Your fingers clutch at his shirt like you’re drowning. „I can’t …“ you gasp for air. „Can’t breathe.“ 

„Yes, you can,“ Steve says softly, rocking you slowly back and forth even though his own heart is racing. „You’re just going too fast. We’re gonna slow it down, okay? I’ve got you.“ 

He shifts so your back is against his chest, one arm wrapped firm around your middle, the other hand coming up to cradle your jaw gently.

„Look at me,“ he whispers. 

Your eyes flicker up to his. 

„Good. Stay with me.“ 

He exaggerates his own breathing. „In for four. One, two, three, four.“ He breathes in. „Hold. And then out for four. One, two, three, four.“ 

At first you can’t match him. You’re trembling too hard. So he changes tactics. 

„Okay,“ he says suddenly, like he just remembered something incredibly significant. „Important question.“ 

You blink up at him, confused and teary. 

„If I had to fight a raccoon the size of Dustin, do you think I’d win?“ 

You let out the smallest, broken huff. There it is. Steve seizes it immediately. 

„Because I’m thinking yes. Obviously yes. But if it had, like … ninja training? That’s where it gets tricky.“ 

Your breathing stutters - still uneven, but slower now. 

„I would absolutely lose if it had nunchucks,“ he continues gravely. „I’d look so uncool. It’d ruin my whole reputation.“ 

A shaky little sound escapes you. Almost a laugh. 

„That’s it,“ Steve murmurs, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. „Stay with me. Raccoon Dustin. Focus, princess.“ 

You breath in again, not sharp tis time. Steve keeps going. 

„Also, for the record, if the nightmare involved me doing something stupid, I’d like to formally apologize. Dream-Steve can be an idiot sometimes.“ 

That gets him a full on grin from you and made him feel like the luckiest man that ever walked the earth. Your breathing steadies gradually. The panic loosens its grip. 

Steve presses his lips to your temple, lingering there. „You’re safe,“ he whispers. „Whatever it was - it’s over. It can’t get you. Not here.“ 

Your fingers tighten in his shirt again, but this time it’s grounding instead of desperate. „I hate when it feels so real.“ 

„I know,“ Steve mumbles and his voice is so gentle it almost hurts. „But I’m real too. And I’m right here.“ He adjusts the blankets around you, tucks them in like an armor. 

You snuggle into his hug. „I’m sorry that I wake you up because of … this.“ 

„If you ever wake up scared like that,“ he shushes you, „You wake me up. I don’t care if it’s every night. I’d rather loose sleep than let you fight ghosts by yourself.“ 

You nod, finally exhausted in a different way. Steve stays awake a little longer, just in case. Thumb tracing lazy patterns on your arm. Counting your breaths until they’re slow and deep. 

When he shifts slightly to pull you even closer, you mumble something half asleep. 

„That raccoon would kick your ass.“ 

Steve grins, gives you a kiss on your temple and rests his head against yours. „I know.“ 

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