Guilt: GermanyXReader

"You're so scared, ___________… You're so scared of the real vorld you let yourself come to this fake…" Germany hissed.

You shook your head, trying to deny it. Words had escaped you as you trembled in fear of your dearest friend. You were fighting the urge to whimper, like a dog, because out of the two of you, he was the master, you were the dog. He was going to hit you. He was going to kill you. You knew it. The fear clung to you like smoke and you could not rid yourself of it. The dark murderous expression on his face did not help you at all as you tried to deny this feeling of impending dread in your heart. You recoiled from him, but lost your footing. You trembled as he continued to walk towards her and you crawled backwards, trying to escape him.

"You're so scared of the real world, so scared of being hurt again," the man drawled on.

"Stop…" you whispered.

"You're so scared of losing your friends to var…" he growled, "But that doesn't mean-!"

"I said stop!"

Germany smirked and your heart sank like a stone in your chest. The turn of the nation's lips could have made good competition for Russia's scariest smile, one that he reserved for his enemies, namely America. The pain of the memory sent a twinge through your heart. You could feel a hot prickling at your eye lids. Your vision clouded behind the watery vision. You opened and closed your mouth furiously, trying to get it to as something, to protest even more but your words were lost as they made their way to your lips. Even if you did protest, you believe that he wouldn't have listened to you. He was only listening to himself at that moment.

"It doesn't mean you can hide in this vorld forever…"

You started crying.

-=-=-=-=-

"______________, ___________, vake up!"

You awoke. Someone was gripping you firmly and you had been tearing at them until you could see the eyes above you. Ludwig… Ludwig had saved you again. A sob escaped your lips before you threw yourself into his arms. Ever since World War II, you had nightmares, especially about the terrible things you did, that the other countries did to the people they were supposed to protect. You were one of the last ones to still have the torment of nightmares. Others had moved on, even Germany, who only carried an immense guilt for the entire thing.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" you whispered.

Ludwig hushed you, carding his fingers through your hair. You clutched a pillow to your chest, angry tears streaming from your eyes and sitting uncomfortably against your skin, making the pillow beneath your head damp and unpleasant. Germany moved you into his lap and you cried on him, getting his pajamas wet. He normally complained when Italy got in bed with him, just to sleep, but he was the one willingly in your bed, comforting you from a nightmare he partially caused, feeling more guilt than ever before. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline as he smoothed your hair back. Normally you would have been embarrassed, because you were clammy, a sobbing mess and in your rattiest pajamas but right now, you enjoyed the comfort.

"Hush, meine liebe," he whispered, "I'm here…"

You fell asleep, wondering what meine liebe meant. You woke up to Germany screaming about how Italy had somehow gotten in your bed with the two of you. You smiled. Germany had stayed the whole night with you.