Random Oneshots

GON x Reader - Sky of Dreams

A/N: Good evening, Doodles and Noodles! This chapter addresses heavy topics such as implied sexual abuse, trauma, panic attacks, and self-loathing. More than anything, I went off on a ranting tangent with this story, and I apologize for that. Nonetheless, I hope it provides some comfort, entertainment, or help for someone.

If you are struggling with thoughts akin to these, please reach out to those who care for you. They do exist. The most imperative fact of all to remember is that you are strong enough to endure whatever trials or tribulations Fate may place in your path.

Enjoy!

GON x Reader - Sky of Dreams

The house was still, the midnight eve quiet, yet restless. The air was stifling, though you had just turned the air conditioning on to cool the heat.
You were sitting on the couch nursing a comforting mug of chamomile-currant tea. It was one of the few brews you tolerated, said to aid insomnia and immune health. What were you doing alone, in the middle of the night? Simple!

You were overthinking again.

It started with the classic shower thought, "What if we made a model universe out of perfectly peeled rambutans, oranges, honeydews, and watermelons?"

This obscure rambling soon morphed into the infernal war of trust. Your late-night contemplations always seemed to lead to it. Always left wondering why, no matter what you did, people viewed you as innocent, naïve, and inexperienced.

A shudder roiled through you. People take advantage of innocence. You gagged, attempting to push the memory away, but with increased difficulty. When would you ever let go?

It had been years since it happened, and the tormentor was long gone now. Sure, he had only gone on strict parole and not to prison, but he couldn't see you. He wouldn't find you.

Right?

And so; The twisting, tumbling contemplations rolled through your head, one after another. Reflexive tears pricked your eyes as you stared, motionless, at the pthalo blue accent wall. You were so lost in thought, in fact, that you didn't notice your boyfriend of four months, the God of Night himself, stroll downstairs.

It had taken you a while to allow this sort of trust, to allow yourself to love again, but Night made it easier. He was patient, kind, and sarcastic as ever, but always genuine about his true intentions with you. When you two had first started dating, you were shy, unsure, and infinitely reclusive. The slightest touch sent you into a full-on panicked frenzy, but Night saw through those moments and cherished the flickers of a person he loved. Of course, his immortal mind-reading helped.

Lately, the god's tranquil patience with you has left an impending sense of guilt. You had grown significantly since your first meeting, but there were still days when every fiber of your body felt disgusting, used, and worthless. Plagued with the repeated question, when would you ever let go? It didn't matter to him, though. Night wasn't the best with words, especially when he was angry at colleagues or his ex, but his eyes beheld you with the sweetest adoration, yet an epitome of respect gleamed in his amber irises. He was the first partner who didn't treat you as an object, toy, or a child, but as an equal. Night regarded your insights with intrigued interest, and cradled your words as if they were the most magnificent sound to ever bless his studded ears.

Night approached the couch, his soft, starry black slippers padding across the wood floor. He looked at you, staring off into space, shaking his head.

"Good evening, dearest," Night called gently, attempting to bring you back. So many thoughts swarmed through your head it was hard for him to decipher them.