Deckard Shaw X Reader ✔

2

        "Deckard!"
         "Please, wake up!" A strained, almost vicious, voice calls out to him.
         He mumbles incoherently in his slumber. He dreamed of what could happen to her. Tossing and turning, jetting his arms out and thrashing them all different ways, heavily breathing, sweat, and, sadly, ... tears. Most nights were full of insomnia.
        The heavy bags under his eyes show how many heartbreaks in dreams he goes through every time he slumbers.
        Deckard sat up and wiped his forehead of sweat. He wrapped his arms around himself. He put up a wall of his ego and confidence every day, but she saw it.
        "Deckard...?"
        "I'm sorry for waking you."
        "Shaw, you're making me worry every night you spend alone without me here to wake you."
Deckard didn't confess his troubles to his ladylove. He carefully grasped her arm and jerked her toward his shoulder: an awkward embrace on the mattress.
She shoved him off.
          "I'm not going to hug you when you're doused in sweat, you bugger."
He chuckled and turned his head away from her. She sighed heavily and put her hand on his shoulder.
            "Deckard, I'm alright. Albeit, a wee bit sick with a fever, not to worry, lass. You said you made sure that no one would know I'm important to you. I'll be safe. So, what're you so afraid of that's giving you nightmares?"
             "You."
             "Me? Why are you afraid of me-"
He stood up hastily and strode the side of the bed like an animal in a cage. His bearish hands gripping his head as he strode up and down.
He stopped pacing and looked at me with a drastic scowl.
              "You are what makes me unable to sleep. Not knowing that whenever I go on a mission, I come back home and your blood on the floor and signs of a toil."