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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @sassycherryblossomtree

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Physical intimacy.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: What a full on week! I've had a job interview. Got turned down for said job. Went to a Sandman filming location (Natural History Museum) and watched Dune Part 2 (cannot recommend enough). It took away from my writing time a bit but part 3 is here now, and I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think. Part 4 will be coming soon. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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"Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

The sentence is a catalyst, fuelling the physical and emotional reactions in both the surroundings and your body.

The wind is gone, leaving a claustrophobic air that crackles with untameable energy. The streetlight above violently flickers and flares, the unmistakable noise of a circuit about to overload emanating with each surge.

You feel these surges within your chest too, stoking the warmth radiating through you to an uncontrollable blaze. The ferocity of the sensation makes you whimper.

The man's hands are still touching you. Cradling your face and holding your hand; he feels the tremble that couples with your vocalisation.

"I understand. I feel it too," he whispers. "Though I imagine it is much more intense for your mortal heart to bear."

He eyes are raven black as he strokes his thumb back and forth over your cheek, before strengthening the hold he has on your face.

"Let me kiss the pain away."

He gives you no time to respond. He leans in the last few centimetres and puts his lips firmly against yours.

At first, contrary to his intent, the pain amplifies. He grunts, indicating that he has felt this spike also yet begins to move his lips regardless. It's like your heart is a balloon and it is being overfilled with air, close to exploding and obliterating you from existence. You then feel as if you are about to black out and want to pull away, and are about to try when the agony starts to subside.

The seduction begins.

The fire is mellowing with each press of his mouth, transforming into a restorative, yet sensuous energy. It's alleviation akin to calamine on a sunburn.

It awakens a primal need in your soul. This man is fundamental to you. He is the only one who can truly protect you from harm. You must remain with him. Give yourself to him.

You act on this revelation and kiss him back with a hunger that you didn't think you were capable of demonstrating.

Your reciprocation sends him into a frenzy. He cages you against the damp wall of the building and kisses you with unyielding, dangerous passion.

His skill is impressive, changing technique frequently to keep you guessing. Smothering kisses, bruising kisses, slower kisses to give you time to breathe. The hand that was cupping your face is now stroking down your side; breasts, waist, hips and back up again.

Tentatively, you raise your free hand to the back of his head and run your fingers through his wild hair. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, a satisfied vibrating sigh of sorts that encourages you to dig deeper into the silken locks.

He escalates things by slipping his tongue into your mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smirk as you moan in response. His taste is a potent blend: a smoky base, herbaceous core and ambrosial top notes. You are drunk on it, and him seconds after exposure.

Logic has left you. Schedules and duties cast aside.

The juxtaposition between the present and minutes prior would be frightening if not for how correct all this feels. You had been disgusted and alarmed by his conduct, ready to bring in reinforcements and then all of it had dissipated like dust under a short, sharp breath.

It is not a ridiculous change in behaviour; you were supposed to be doing this. This stranger is all you want.

He pulls back when even his slower kisses are unable to calm your elevated respiratory rate, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he does so to draw another moan from you.

The blue of his eyes shimmer with a myriad of emotions. Lust stands out the most along with awe and relief. Your cheeks prickle with a light blush as he continues to stare and document every detail.

"I have been waiting to do that for thousands of years, my precious soulmate," he eventually says in reference to the kiss after absorbing your image for a while.

There's that word again. Soulmate. You hadn't exactly been allowed a period of contemplation when the man first uttered it, too swept up in the fire and his touch, but now with the semi-reinstation of coherent thoughts you begin to assess. It proves difficult. Your cerebral matter feels like a mixture of treacle, sap and epoxy. Trapping words and slowing down your processing power. It would be so simple to let yourself live in this mental mire and be carried along by his whims.

No. You scold inwardly. Ask a question.

"What do you mean by soulmates?" You force yourself to speak.

He guides your palm to rest on his heart and sets up a mirror image with his hand on your chest. "It means that we are bound together, made for one another."

The next question is easier to form. "And what now, given that you've found me?"

"Now," His hips grind into yours. "I will continue with the ritual of awakening you to the metaphysical connection between us, stripping back the shrouds and glamours that have been protecting your mind from the gravity of this gift."

That explained why everything shifted when he first touched your skin.

"Are you going to do that here?" Your brain is really starting to break free of its trappings and you need to ascertain his plan for it sounds like his intentions are of a sexual nature and you are in a public place.

"No, your time in this world has reached its end. I will take you to my realm, lead you to my chambers and I will not stop stimulating you until I have taken residence in your every thought, every cell."

The speed and confidence with which he is pouring forth all of these sentiments, and the near-full recovery of your mental faculties triggers a wave of nausea. Perspiration forms on your nape and ears and your core temperature feels off; warning signs that you get when you are about to vomit.

He still hasn't let go of your hand. You hone in on the softness of his skin, hoping you can use him as an anchor as you wade through the icky symptoms.

Recent events are starting to catch up with you. You replay it all.

Soulmates. Mortal. Thousands of years. Metaphysical. Realm. The unexplainable environmental manifestations. The strange shifting qualities of his eyes. What kind of supernatural devilry had you managed to become ensnared in?

Was he in fact the devil?

You are so conflicted. This being, for you are convinced that 'man' is no longer the correct term, is telling you things that threaten your entire way of life and your heart is pushing you to seek comfort from him!

Then the voices start.

Your sense of balance tilts and you instinctively grasp his forearm for stability. He says your name and you drag your focus from your thoughts to his face. He is looking at you with deep concern.

"Tell me," he commands gently.

"I feel dizzy... And I can hear voices."

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many voices?"

Your eyes are wide as you struggle to understand the relevance of his question.

You stammer out a couple of syllables.

"Breathe," he encourages.

You obey and concentrate on the hubbub.

"Three. Everything is being repeated three times."

The frown lines smooth and he is smiling faintly. "It seems The Fates are vying for your attention."

"The Fates? Like in Greek mythology?"

"The very same."

Was this being a God then?

"They're telling me to close my eyes," you relay as soon as the instruction is delivered.

He nods. "That will be the trigger that transports your mind to their location."

"Will I pass out?"

"No. It will be a temporary connection that keeps your body frozen for mere moments."

"I feel so dizzy though."

"I can hold you while you converse with them should you wish."

You nod somewhat frenetically as a sliver of fear creeps into your mind. "Yes, please."

He lets go of your hand for the first time since you tried to go back in the building, slips his arms around your waist and he pulls you close with a satisfied sigh. The neediness with which you are clinging to him lessens your apprehension just a little.

"How does that feel?" His voice rumbles deliciously through your chest.

"Good, thank you."

"You should close your eyes now. It is best that you do not keep them waiting."

"Okay."

"I'll see you in a few moments."

You shut your eyes.

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The scene you awaken in is all lemon yellows, blush pinks and pastel blues. There's no landforms or structures. Just a never-ending stretch of bedrock, topped with a horizon that is beginning to show a sumptuous sunset.

You squint a little and then notice that there is a actually a point of interest. A lump of rough rock, waist height. There's a divot worn into the top that makes the obtrusion look like a font. For a moment you see a single figure standing at it.

A figure that appears to have three faces.

But then you blink and the number has tripled.

Maiden, Mother and Crone.

The trio block the worst of the sun glare, and the light that isn't obscured is highlighting the translucent layers that overflow from their intricately constructed and adorned outfits. Their curly hair, like the fabric of their clothes, flows freely in the gentle breeze.

You walk towards the group, thinking back to that term in school where you studied Greek mythology. Under no circumstances did you ever think that any of it could possibly be true, yet here you were.

You stop a respectable distance from them and quickly avert your eyes downwards to look at the ruby ring on your right hand.

One of them speaks, "You need not be intimidated by us, sweetness."

"I only wish to pay respect to you, your Graces."

You chance a peek at the Fates and see amusement in their eyes.

"Oh, you are going to fit in very well in his world," the Mother says with a smile.

You don't know what to feel about that comment however you don't have time to dwell on it for the eldest addresses you.

"Come closer. Let us look at you."

And look they did. Their resolute gazes are just as discerning as the stranger's but unlike his, where you knew he was soaking you in, you feel like the Fates are seeing through you.

You don't know what exactly it is that they are looking for but their smiles give the impression of being appeased.

"Has Morpheus told you how this will go?"

"No..." You hesitate before speaking his name, "Morpheus has not."

"He didn't tell you his name, did he?"

"We didn't get a lot of time for small talk," you admit sheepishly.

"We can see that from the state of your lips."

"He always was rather forward with his physical affection."

"Touch starved," the Crone finishes.

You are beyond embarrassed. How swollen were your lips for it to be that obvious? You can almost feel his touch now, it tingles like phantom caresses on the skin of your neck, chest and waist. You swallow hard before further lust can thicken your throat.

The Fates then speak in turn again, explaining the context of your rendezvous.

"You will have the opportunity to ask three questions."

"That is the custom when meeting with us."

"There is no need to rush."

Choosing only three questions will be tough when there are hundreds you could ask. Were you losing your sanity? Was Morpheus a demonic envoy from the underworld sent to corrupt your mind?

You suppose all you really want to know is whether this is real.

"Is he telling the truth about us being soulmates?"

The Maiden answers in a musical voice, "He is. The confluence of yours and Morpheus' lives has been written for millennia. Your souls have been intended for each other since he came into existence. You were never meant for anyone else but him."

You feel like you are about to cry. That last statement cuts deeply.

"All those times that potential partners lost interest or ghosted me. It was because of this soulmates thing," you murmur the statement, aware that you don't need to ask them to know if it is true.

Years of heartache and confusion had been for nothing. The nights spent wondering if you had done something wrong, the days where you threw yourself into your work to distract from it.

You cannot regret all the good things you managed to create as part of your team at the charity yet it is hard to look past the personal torment that countless unexplained rejections caused. You are human after all.

Selfishness rears its head and pushes the next question from your mouth with a tone of indignation.

"Why am I only finding out about this now?"

The Mother takes over, tone caring and brown eyes cordial, "It was not necessary for you to know."

Ire disintegrates into frustration. "But I could have been preparing. Not building a life that I was clearly going to have to give up."

"You would not be the person you are had we given you warning. You needed to live as a human, not as someone who was fated to be with the King of Dreams and Nightmares. Besides, there was no possibility of you being together. For 106 years, Morpheus was the prisoner of a human, and it was the recent end of his captivity that allowed fate to take its intended course. Reaching your potential on Earth gives you a strong foundation from which to guide and influence him in how to best serve humanity, and learn to trust in them once more after what he suffered at the hands of one."

The amount of information you have just received is like a freight train. One after the other, the revelations barrel into you and you take refuge in your mind.

The King of Dreams and Nightmares; not a title you had heard of before. Yet there is a strange sense of recognition. A forgotten memory that barely flickers with life. You ignore the niggling thought and focus on the more devastating one.

This King, your soulmate was held against his will, subjected to suffering. You cannot bear the idea of it regardless of how few details you have at present. Your chest aches and you know your soul is the source.

Fury twitches in your fingers, as fiery as the now burnt oranges and bloody reds of the ever-progressing sunset. You want to know who could do such a terrible thing but you realise that it is not the most important question you could be asking.

You look back to the Fates. You note their proud smiles at your restraint.

"What role am I expected to play in his future?"

The Crone moves to centre stage, "You are to be his everything. Muse. Lover. Queen. Advisor. Confidant."

Your stomach twists.

"Are you ready to return to him?" The Maiden asks, taking you off guard.

You feel like you a patron being kicked out at closing time with half a drink left. A fizzy one that you can't knock back easily.

What you've just been told honestly scares you. It's a mountain of expectation, the sort of thing that could birth an inferiority complex. There's also your self-preservation instinct starting to scream. You've seen darkness in his eyes, felt his physical strength and heard how resolute his statements are.

You have to say something.

"I'm worried about what would happen if I disappoint him, if he would hurt me."

The trio step closer, the scant remnants of sunlight reflect off their perceptive eyes and the metal of their matching earrings.

The Crone speaks solemnly, "It has been well-documented that Morpheus has a ruthless nature. As one of the Endless siblings, he is among the most powerful beings in the universe; equal parts creator, and destroyer."

The Mother touches your cheek with a warm hand. "But you have just as much power to hurt him, sweetness. We have provided you with it."

The Maiden nods in agreement, and takes your hand.

"He deals in fears, yes but his domain also lies in fantasies. He will be able to furnish you with yours. He has been made to be perfect for you."

"But -"

"This is not a loss of agency or an act of surrender. Put aside your qualms, listen to your soul and ask yourself this: do you find him attractive?"

"Yes." He's the most attractive person you've ever seen.

"Do you care for him?"

"Yes." Your reaction to his imprisonment is evidence enough of that.

"Do you want to a chance of happiness?"

"Yes." Deep down beneath all the doubt and overthinking and catastrophising, it's exactly what you want.

You want Morpheus.

"I'm ready," you say calmly.

You take a step back from the Fates and bow.

"Thank you for your time, your Graces."

The sky is an inky violet with daubs of dark blue, the sun is a thin line on the horizon. It sets, signalling the end of the meeting and your time as an ordinary mortal.

"Fare you well," the Fates' voices echo in unison as everything fades to black.

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Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"Deep in my heart, deep in my mind. Take me away, take me away. This is my word, dream maker, life taker. Open up my mind."

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vampiricpancake · 1 year

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Ranking the Obey Me bedrooms based on looks and personal head canon!

MC's Room

First of all I don't get why there's a whole dining table in my room what is the reason??? Second of all does this room even have windows?? It's always been a headcanon of mine that the light above the bed comes from an artificial skylight window to remind MC of the human world since the Devildom is in complete darkness. Props to whoever decorated though (probably Asmo) it looks really comfy and inviting. I give it an 8.5/10 because I'm paranoid bugs might be hiding in those plants.

Lucifer's room

Does he even have a mattress or is it one of those beds with the framing all around the sides and the mattress is fitting in the center? Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if he just slept on a rock hard surface with how grumpy and tired he always is. Though imagine getting fucked by Lucifer and you turn your head and see that creepy skeleton looking at you the entire time. I feel like I wouldn't have a goodnight's sleep knowing that thing is facing me, I'd probably make Lucifer sleep on that side of the bed so he could hide it from my view 8/10

Mammon's Room

I hate everything about his room, it's way too big and it just looks cold and uninviting. Imagine all the fumes and smells you have to breathe in because of that damn car. Imagine how loud and echoey (is that a word?) it gets when you turn on the car and open the garage doors. It's a cool hang out/party spot but you'll never catch me sleeping here. 3/10

Levi's Room

HELL NO! I will not be sleeping here I'm literally terrified of most marine animals this is such a nightmare, I would feel so claustrophobic. Also this boy literally sleeps in a solid, stone cold bathtub. I would avoid this room as much as possible and only go in for manga and then run the fuck away 0/10

Satan's Room

I love and hate his room. The bed by the window is such a vibe... well it would be if there was at least some curtains. That purple couch looks so comfortable and cozy!! The only think that bugs me is that I am incredibly clumsy so I would be terrified even taking a step into his room since I might be crushed by a book avalanche! I feel like I would spend half of my time in there wincing in pain, stepping and bumping into the edges of the books. 6/10

Asmo's Room

His room is THE CUTEST!! The framing covering the bed?? the vanity?? the swinging egg chair?? Not to mention it's pink!!! only downside is once again all of those plants but I LOVE!! I just know Asmo picked silk bedsheets! 9/10

Beel and Belphie's Room

Maybe it's just the fact that I don't have any siblings but my room is my safe space so I would feel really uncomfortable sharing it with anyone. I really love the sun/moon parallel, and I love how cozy they're room looks. I imagine Belphie has a huge selection of pillows, blankets, and plushies to choose from. Now Beel on the other hand, I imagine his side is really messy, food crumbs everywhere, food wrappers, dirty cups and bowls everywhere, it looks a devastating hurricane decimated a grocery store. What does the staircase lead to?? it looks totally empty up there 5/10 (Beel's side) 8/10 Belphie's side)

Demon Lord's Castle Guest Bedroom

It's honestly really cute, the bed's look so lavish. I'm obsessed with he flower vase, might have to find some sort of replica online! Doesn't look like it has any windows though.... 4/10

Diavolo's Room

Obsessed, I feel like his room is smaller than the rooms at House of Lamentation which is funny because he's literally the future ruler of the Devildom so he should have a larger room. Not complaining though, I just know Barbatos makes sure the sheets are nice and fresh every night. I would sleep so well here! 8/10

Barbatos' room

Absolutely fucking not. Where is his bed? Does he just sleep on Diavolo's couch? Does sleep standing up? Does he sleep on the hard floor and use the bottom step as a pillow? Does he sleep AT ALL?? -100/10

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I hope to do a Mystic Messenger and an Ikemen Vampire one in the near future :)

Alsoooo, I decided not to do the Purgatory Hall rooms simply because they're dorm rooms so they all look the same and they probably aren't allowed to remodel them!

#otome game #obey me mc #obey me headcanons #obey me #obey me fandom #headcannons #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obeymelevi #obey me levi #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

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tigermousse · 3 months

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Particles of reality: Obsession

genre: dark, yandere, otome, crime, supernatural, NSFW

Not all stories have happy endings…especially this one.

I have a feeling this visual novel has done some permanent damage to my mental health, but I'm not regretting reading it.

!Please note: This game is for mature audience only!

Particles of reality: obsession is dealing with very dark themes including gore, extreme violence, torture, sexual and mental abuse. It has graphic depiction of consensual and un-consensual sex (including sex between minors and sex between siblings). List of triggers for each path is enormous and it was pretty hard to read through some paths. There are options to hide some content, but even with "lower violence" filter it was gruesome enough. Like Monika, I hate the violence, but I was too interested in characters to skip everything.

Monica is studying medicine in college and working at the cafe Luna to pay her bills. She has two close friends and a bunch of phobias, since she is a traumatized young woman with a troubled past. Monika hoped to separate from her family by enrolling to a college. But now she's stuck on a dead-end job, feeling claustrophobic in a small crappy apartment, also failing her studies and doubting her choice to be a doctor.

This is the time when in her life appears a tall handsome man, who has a strange interest in her. But the story unraveled…

Particles of Reality is a macabre satire on dark romance, where relationship with violent people are romanticized, - and otome games, in which every character falls in love with a MC no matter how plain, or dull she is.

It is a splendid idea to show in visual novel that relationship with obsessive people can only cause you pain, but still overall it was a depressing experience for me. I can not recommend this game, but it has a highest rating from me, because it is unique and memorable. All the characters are either traumatized or just pleasurably insane.

You are warned from the beginning that there are no happy endings in this novel. In those few where main characters at least don't die, Monica is still can not be happy because she's feeling trapped.

It makes sense, because it shows that with the characters like these, who are obsessed (and sometimes possessed), there can be no happy ending. They're traumatized, violent and mentally unstable. It is said that in Obsession the characters are the worst possible versions of themselves.

After a while it is getting too frustrating that no matter what you do the game finds its way to punish you. The characters are making very stupid mistakes and decisions - and you can do nothing about it but watch. Also sometimes the game is forcing you to read a lot of information that you already learn from other routes. I can see why it was hard to avoid, but still it was too much unnecessary reading.

The structure of visual novel is unique - it has additional unlockable content for each character that helps to look further in their past or shows their point of view on the story. At some points the story is breaking the forth wall.

Nice touch that choices that doesn't affect the ending, are clearly marked.

Still after reading everything including the secret character routes, the story still has more questions then answers - and feels incomplete. The secret route was more confusing then revealing.

CHARACTERS

MC Monika Viotto (name changeable, but I don't see why someone would like to relate to this MC more, so I left it as it is)

My diagnosis: Post-traumatic stress disorder + Dependent personality disorder

For me, Monika is a bit annoying. She's is your our typical otome MC - she is kind, shy, not very smart with average looks (though I think that she looks pretty cute). Because she was abused and neglected at home since childhood, Monika developed some phobias like nyctophobia and claustrophobia.

She says that she hates violence, but in each route she's attracted to violent people - probably that is the route of all the problems. In some paths she even shows a violent streak that she probably has (probably that is why she resents violence - because she knows she can have it in her too). Her family is mafia and though she wants to get away from them so bad, the violence in her household probably couldn't left her intact. However usually Monika is absolutely oblivious to everything happening around her. Sometimes she can stand for herself, but these moments of clarity happen usually too late.

Who she is now is a result of her traumatized past, but also we can see that she's really passive and co-dependent since young age. She can't decide for herself (and when she is, she's deciding badly), she's not trying to learn something new, she doesn't understand her feelings and is not good with people. She's not good with anything really. Though she doesn't lack empathy and sincerely grieving loss of those who are close to her.

Sometimes she can be funny and snappy, but not often. She is more self-assured and interesting in some "what if" scenarios and in some branches in Brandon's route.

Love interests (SPOILER ALERT)

Which one do you have in mind?

None of the characters are mentally healthy. Some are aware of this fact, the others aren't. There is almost no romance, except maybe for the Sebastian route (which is my least favorite). There are some sex scenes though.

Each route starts differently and has slight time difference, but except for the Brandon's route, the circumstances in these are very similar.

Sebastian Dallarosa

My diagnosis: Narcissistic personality disorder (?) Also typical yandere

Sebastian is tall, rich and handsome. Probably smart too. He's meeting MC on the street, saving her life from a car accident, and then taking care for her when she is getting sick. But something is not right about him. Or is it?

He's in love with MC since they were children. It was love at first sight, and now he believes that Monika is his soulmate - and he wants her no matter what.

Dallarosa is a mafia family too, like Viotto, but several years ago Sebastian and his twin brother refused to take over the family business - and it seems that Sebastian put all his effort to get Monika Viotto, because it is the only thing that he wanted - ever.

Sebastian is probably the favorite character of the developer, because his route is longest, plus he's appearing in every other route and in most branches. He has the most CG's. And I really hate him. Either because he's triggering something from my past, or because he is so sure of himself. He is the only one with almost no regrets or remorse. He thinks that his "love" justifies everything he's doing. I hate how he doesn't give Monika a chance to decide for herself, how much he's suffocating her, how he manipulates her. He doesn't care at all what she thinks, for he has her image in his head for a long time, and he doesn't care what Monika is like for real. He shows in all the routes, and in each one he's madly in love with Monika.

When you start the game, Sebastian's route is the first you have to finish at least once, and for some time his route is pretty romantic. He says nice things to MC, dotting around her, telling her what she would like to hear. But when things unravel, he shows his true violent and/or manipulative self.

The best part of Sebastian's route was Alexander. He seems much more sane (Maybe that is because he doesn't has his own route yet)

Julian Andrei

My diagnosis: Dissociative identity disorder

Julian is working with Monika in a Cafe Luna. He seems rude at first, but otherwise he is funny and always ready to help a damsel in distress. Except he has a strange habit of vanishing for several days once a month. What does he hides?

In Julian's route Monika has a crush on him when they first meet, and in other routes it is other way around. Julian in his route is the most different from himself in other routes, except Brandon's DLC. Because in most routes he is just a friend and co-worker of Monika, and doesn't show his violent streak, also he's pretty weak and can't stand himself against other characters. However we know from his route that he should be experienced in killing people, so it is strange that he's always trying to rescue MC unprepared. (I guess it is one of frustrating features which lead MC to unavoidable bad ends).

Julian is in constant conflict with himself - because he has a split personality, which seems to have a mind of its own.

As for the core personality, and not the worst version of himself, I like Julian very much. He is funny, honest and noble in his own way - and trying to do his best. I don't mind his complaining and self-consciousness.

Quinn Deidre

My diagnosis: Borderline personality disorder

Quinn is gender-fluid non-binary person. And also they are the most normal character. They are a ball of sunshine. Funny, active, kind, caring, creative. But they're trying too hard to get attention that they are forgetting what is good for themselves. Quinn definitely have BPD, and it is pretty accurate portrait of this disorder. Given their traumatic past, it is not strange that Quinn has it. Their family is fundamentally religious and they always felt that they don't belong at home. So they're looking hard for the place where they belong.

Meeting Monika as a roommate, Quinn is falling in love with her non-judgemental attitude. But of course, they can't stand to her other suitors. (Brandon strangely accepts Quinn)

Quinn is really sweet. His bad ends are pretty sad, because they mostly end with him hurting himself.

Brandon Viotto (free DLC)

My diagnosis: Antisocial personality disorder (Psychopath)

Due to the themes of incest and underage sex (also extreme violence, but Steam is OK with it), Brandon's route is not accessible in the base game and can be downloaded as a free DLC (optionaly, because for some people this route can be too fucked up.)

Brandon's route is a history route: it begins when Monika was five, and all events in all branches are happening earlier than the beginning of Sebastian's, Julian's or Quinn's routes. You don't need to read through this route to finish the game and open secret character, but it is giving better view of Monika's personality in other routes, also after reading it, I hated Sebastian a tiny bit less.

Brandon is Monika's older brother. He's just a year older than she, but since the early childhood they were raised differently. Brandon was the favorite child, Mama's golden boy, he was given best teachers and was combat training to become the head of the family (Don). And Monika was neglected, harshly punished for all tiny mistakes, given little to no education. Most of the time their parents didn't pay any attention to her at all. Luciana Viotto is a powerful, cunning and cruel woman, and Antonio Viotto seems totally indifferent to everything that is happening in his family, until it becomes too late.

Things doesn't add up here - while Monika as a mafia princess was prepared to arranged marriage if nothing else, she probably had at least attend different social events to meet important people, but she didn't. Otherwise she would be just a disgrace of a mafia family (which she obviously become, when she went to a college, living in a worst district of a town and working for a minimal wedge)

Since tender age Brandon was trained to be a merciless killer. And while his first kills brought him tears and nightmares, later he started to enjoy killing and torturing people. Now he is hungry for power and control. And the only one he cares about is his sister. Monika.

Since they were children, Brandon always tried to defend Monika from their abusive mother. They grew very close, because they always had to depend onto each other and didn't have anyone else. Monika needed Brandon because he always came to her rescue and Brandon need his sister, because she appeals to what left of human in him. She is still his moral compass after years of killings.

When he was about 15 year of age, Brandon felt that he his feeling for Monika is not completely brotherly.

After some time of his doubts and regrets, they've became lovers, when Monika was still 14 y.o. They both knew that incest is wrong, depending on the branch, they're having more or less doubts about it.

In most scenarios revealed that when Monika was 16, she attended school, where she has met a boy and started dating him. But Brandon was furious and beat the guy so bad that he couldn't recover. Monica hasn't talked to Brandon since then, until she decided to go to college where she begins all other routes.

Brandon is the one who sees the best in Monika

I do not justify the incest, I've never understood it either. But given all the circumstances in this novel I think in Particles of Reality, Brandon is still the best choice for Monika. Maybe I'm prejudiced, because despite of everything , I liked him too much since demo. He's the only one who will never hurt her willingly, she can trust him completely and he's the one who accepts and understands her as she is.

The thing I like about Brandon the most is that he is the only one whose personality doesn't change a bit in all the routes and branches. I'm afraid that is because he's the least favorite boy for the developer, but still he doesn't pretend. Also he's the only one who is changing through his route - for worse, but still.

He is extremely violent, and doesn't hide that he is enjoying killing people, but it seems that he can have his doubts and regrets about everything that concerning Monika. (Nevertheless he still thought and done disgusting things)

He is also very smart, with a dark sense of humor, but I always felt that Monika can depend on him. With him she is safe, but he can go too far to secure her.

I can't rate any of the characters, since they're shown as the worst versions of themselves. As for their "core personality", I like Sebastian the least, because I can't find any of his personality outside of his obsession. As for secret character, his purpose in this novel seems only for breaking forth wall, so it is hard to say something about him for now.

Overall:

Visual: 4/5

Story: 4/5

Characters: 5/5

Romance: 2/5

Originality: 5/5

My Rating: 5/5

(I can't recommend it to anyone, since it is very dark and not for everyone, but also couldn't give it less than 5 stars, because I'm sure that this game has a powerful impact on every person who has read it)

You can get this visual novel by Arewar on Steam or on itch.io

#particles of reality #yandere #visual novel #otome #video game #video games #dark romance #my review #personal #Tiger Mousse

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honeybadgerwritings · 2 years

Text

Every Step You Take

Pairing: Dark!Peter Ballard x Afab Fem!Reader - Dark!001 x Afab Fem!Reader

Requested: Hi there! First I wanted to express how in love I am with your work! I honestly think you're an amazing writer and that your works are bliss istg! ♡ I just read that you're closing your requests and I wanted to see if I could leave one, if you don't wanna answer it it's okay I understand ♡I wanted to request a Peter Ballard x fem reader (if you want the reader can be one of Brenner's kids but ofc the reader's of age) with the prompts 1, 9 in fluff, 22 and 23 in smut, 19 and 25 in angst, all from him and in the order you want!

Summary: Chaos erupts in Hawkins lab. What’s happens when your close friend Peter is the reason why?

Warnings: Heavy Mentions of Blood, Gore, Violence, Death, Manipulation, Claustrophobia, Panic Attacks, Smut, Age-Gap, Oral (Fem Receiving), Fingering, Edging If You Squint.

Please Please Please let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: The reader is 18+ in this fic. If I had to give her an actual age I would say roughly 21-22. Peter is roughly 28-29. Any sexual acts are fully consensual. This is also tagged as Dark!Peter, and while that is true, it’s mostly just regular Peter, because he himself is a walking red flag, and his character is already very dark. Just wanted to make that known.

Prompts:

1. “I want you by my side.”

9. “Just trust me alright?”

19. “I know you’re mad at me, but I’m only doing this to protect you.”

22. “So good for me, look at how much you came.”

23. “Where did this attitude come from hm?”

25. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

This is not yet edited, I will get to it ASAP

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⚠️ This fic is 18+ so minors DNI ⚠️

Please read the Author’s Note and Warnings above before continuing!!! Thank you!

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Chaos.

If there’s one word you could pick to describe the situation you’re currently in, that would be the word to choose.

Everything around you is in utter chaos.

Alarms are blaring, the fluorescent lights over head are flickering, screaming echoes from somewhere throughout the building, and everyone is tumbling past you. It’s all a blur of white uniforms and clicking heels as someone shoves you out of their way. They’re all more concerned for their own safety than yours, as you stand there, utterly clueless, in your hospital gown.

This doesn’t upset you though. In all honesty you’re not really worried about yourself either; If it comes down to it, you’d use your powers for protection. The only thing you’re actually worried about right now is finding him.

Finding Peter.

Peter is your….friend? Companion? You’re not really sure to be honest. All you know is that the two of you had grown close in recent months, bonding over shared experiences with loneliness. You both found solitude in each other, and he made sure you knew that you could always come to him for help, advice, or comfort.

And you did, almost every day in fact.

Being so much older than all of the kids easily made you an outcast amongst them. They didn’t disrespect you at all, in fact they’re all borderline terrified of you, but that didn’t stop the exclusion. Papa never really acknowledged you anymore, other than when he needed to run some tests, and all of the workers treated you like you were five. You were so lonely and had no one to talk to for a long time, spending most nights wandering the halls instead of being alone with your thoughts in your room.

It wasn’t until you had first bumped into him in the hall about a year ago that you even knew of his presence. He’d been so kind and gentle with you that day, helping you up from the ground and guiding you back to your room.

“How did you even manage to sneak out?” He’d asked, and you’d been forced to meekly explain that after many freak outs, Papa instructed workers to leave your door open a crack every night.

You’re insanely claustrophobic, and your room really doesn’t help. You don’t have control over the lights, so it’s almost always dark in there, and it’s such a small, confined space that it makes it hard for you to breathe.

You’d expected him to roll his eyes and scoff like every other person who’d heard the story, but he didn’t. He threw his head back with a laugh, joking that you must have caused a lot of trouble to get Papa to agree to something like that.

He wasn’t far off, but you didn’t feel like going into detail.

He’d guided you into your room, and waited for you to get situated in bed before wishing you goodnight with a wink, and leaving the door open a crack.

The whole interaction left you both flustered and confused, wondering why this absolute stranger had such an effect on you, and why he spoke to you with kindness instead of authority like everyone else did.

You began to notice his presence more often after that. He would always offer to play chess with you in the rainbow room if you seemed bored, sometimes he’d be the one to deliver lunch and dinner to your room, and on occasion he would stay and chat with you for a few minutes.

“On occasion” quickly turned into most times, and “a few minutes” turned into an hour or two. He was easy to befriend, an you both had plenty in common. He made you feel safe, and warm, and dare you say even loved. He’d promised to always be there for you and protect you, and he’d kept that promise. Any time you were threatened with a punishment or put in harms way by another child, he would stick up for you, keep you safe.

So you can’t help but feel like it’s your turn.

Gunshots ring out somewhere in the distance, and you flinch as the screaming around you becomes louder. Another person bumps your shoulder, and this time you’re knocked onto your ass. You groan, covering your head with your arms as you attempt to protect yourself from getting trampled. You’re surrounded by a stampede of incompetent assholes who’ve bossed you around your whole life, and honestly you’re starting to feel more annoyed than scared.

Finally after a few moments the screaming subsides, and you’re left alone in an empty hallway, sitting in the middle of the floor. You shake your head, beginning to pull your aching body up from the ground, until you pause. You hear footsteps coming from the hallway to your right.

You take a moment to listen, registering their movement. They’re not quick paced, scattered, or scared like everyone else. These ones are calm, collected, menacing even. And of course, they’re headed right towards you.

You barely have any time to register this observation before the person rounds the corner in front of you. You make eye contact with them and the tense feeling in your chest dissipates, your shoulders immediately relaxing with a sigh. It’s just Peter.

For a second, he has a wild, crazy look in his eyes, but then it flickers to confusion with furrowed brows, then fear. He’s tense, more tense than you’ve ever seen him. “What are you doing out here?” He sounds frantic, like he didn’t expect to see you here, in this building, that you’ve never left.

“Uhh-” you’re cut off as he lifts you up from the ground by your arm. You yelp, but not in pain, more in surprise than anything as he half escorts, half drags you down the hallway with him. “You’re supposed to be in your room.” He sounds like he’s scolding you.

“I was, until I heard gunshots and screaming. They don’t latch my door Peter, you know that-” you remember the chaos that had surrounded you moments ago, “Hey what’s going on?” He doesn’t respond, whipping his head around as if he’s looking for something, “Peter.” You try again, desperately waiting for an answer.

He only grunts in response, leaving your question unanswered once again. You quickly become fed up, as he drags you down empty hallway after empty hallway. Eventually you pull your arm from his grasp in annoyance, backing away from him. He spins to face you, attempting to snatch your arm but you step back, dodging him.

“Stop it! What the hell is the matter with you? What’s going on?”

He tries to grab your arm again, failing.

“Peter!”

“I’m trying to protect you!” He finally spits out, and your eyebrows furrow, bottom lip beginning to tremble at his tone.

“Protect me from what? Peter, please, you’re scaring me. What’s happening?” His eyes soften significantly as your face falls, and he steps closer to you, lacing his fingers through yours. His thumb delicately strokes the back of your hand and you sniffle, absolutely lost.

“I know, I know you’re scared. But I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He glances around once again as if to make sure the coast is clear, before looking back down at you, “Just trust me alright?”

You shouldn’t have nodded as quickly as you did. You should have held out a little longer, pestered him with more questions, and refused to go with him until he provided you with the answers that you so desperately wanted. But this was Peter, he’d never given you a reason not to trust him, so how could you start now?

“Good girl.” He squeezes your hand in response before turning on his heel, and dragging you with him. You have very little time to process the affect those words have on you before you slam into his back. He’d stopped abruptly, listening for something. You can’t help but listen too, hearing many sets of footsteps heading down the hall in your direction.

“Shit.” He curses, before quickly pulling you into a room off to the right. He shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you in almost pitch black, the only lighting coming from the small glass panel on the door. You stay completely silent as the footsteps rush past you. In all honesty they sound like guards. But why would you being hiding from the guards?

He turns to you once they pass, gripping your wrists firmly in his hands to gather your full attention. “I need you to listen to me,” he speaks in a hushed tone and you nod, “I’m going to go back out.”

Your brows feel like they’ve just been permanently furrowed in confusion, because why in the actual fuck would he want to go back out there? You feel yourself shaking your head before he can even finish his explanation.

“No…no you can’t Peter.” He releases your wrists, gently cupping your face in his hands.

“I’m going to go back out there,” he repeats slowly, “and you’re going to stay here.” You almost burst out laughing at that. You? Stay here? Absolutely not.

“No.” You shake your head, “No way- not happening. At least let me go with you, I can protect you!” You try to reason and he chuckles, like you had just said something so unbelievably adorable and he found it endearing.

“I appreciate the thought darling but I don’t need you putting yourself in harms way. I can protect myself.” You cross your arm’s defiantly, twisting your head out of his grip.

“Well if you leave, I’m sure as hell not staying-” you glance around, trying to figure out exactly where the two of you are. It looks like another bedroom, which is the last place you want to stay, and he must know that, “-in here!”

He sighs, backing away from you and towards the door. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

You’re staring to become angry now. Angry that he thinks he can keep you in here. Angry that he thinks that this situation is more difficult for him than it is for you. Angry that he’s not giving you any information other than the fact that you “need to trust him.”

“If you leave this room I’m coming with you, end of story. Now get out of my way.” You huff, wishing he would stop trying to boss you around. You try to push past him to get to the door but he doesn’t budge. You try again and still, nothing. With the way he’s looking at you he almost seems amused, and that pisses you off.

You extend your arm, ready to shove him to the side with your powers, but before you’re even given the chance, you’re slammed up against the wall, being held up by nothing but air. It knocks the wind out of you and you wheeze, looking up at him in shock.

What the fuck?

“Do not-” he looks irritated, the wild look in his eyes returning as he steps towards you, fingers reaching out to firmly grasp your chin, “Do not ever use your powers on me. Do you understand?” Your eyes widen and you nod frantically, regretting even thinking about it. This is not the Peter you know, and you’re afraid to set him off even further. So many questions run through your head, unable to process them all at once.

Is he just like you? How is he doing this? Is he going to hurt you? Are you going to be left here alone? What if-

He watches you carefully as you tremble under his touch, knowing that your brain must be moving a mile a minute. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal his powers to you like this, but he has no other choice. If you aren’t going to listen, he’s going to have to force you to. His hand slips from your chin to cradle your cheek, and you whimper in fear.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles apologetically, “I’m sorry but you give me no choice. I’m not letting you out there.” He slowly steps away from you, “I need to keep you safe.” He makes his way towards the door and your eyes widen.

“No- Peter don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare!” You’re angry, but your voice comes out frantic and scared. You attempt to flail your limbs in an effort to escape, but to no avail.

He pauses in the doorway for a moment, contemplating letting you come with him, but that thought quickly diminishes and he shakes his head. He knows you’d be even more upset if you knew what he’s about to do. He glances at you over his shoulder, “I’ll be back, I promise.”

The door shuts behind him and you drop to the ground, hard. Your knees smack on the tile, but you pay no mind as you scramble up towards the door. You try to tug on the handle but it doesn’t budge, as expected. You don’t even try to use your powers to open it, you know it won’t work, it never does. You pound your fists on the steel door, beginning to panic.

“No… no no no Peter please! Please don’t leave me here! I-I can’t- it’s dark and- I can’t do it- please!” Thankfully he’s still there, watching you with sad eyes through the glass panel.

“I know you’re mad at me, but I’m only doing this to protect you.”

You open your mouth to beg him again, but you’re cut off by the abrupt sound of yelling and gunshots. And just like that he’s gone from your view. You cry out, slamming your fists against the door until they’re bruised and bloody.

There’s no way. There’s no way any of this is actually happening right now. You pinch yourself, attempting to will the screams and gunshots away by waking up, but you don’t. This isn’t a dream, if anything it’s a living waking nightmare and you’re trapped in it.

Literally.

You bang on the door in one last attempt to be let out, before collapsing onto the floor in a heap of panic. It’s so loud, everything is so loud and the room is so small and you can’t fucking breathe. You find yourself scrambling back into the corner by the bed, covering your ears with your hands.

It feels like the room is closing in on you inch by inch, like you’re about to get crushed between the walls while the war outside rages on.

But then it stops. It all stops.

Not your panic, god no. If only it could be that easy, but you do hold your breath as everything outside the door— no everything in the facility stills. The screams have stopped, the echoing of bullets have faded, and all that’s left the sounds of your wheezing. You want to get up and peek outside the door but your legs aren’t exactly working right now.

But the silence must be a good thing right? Surely whatever caused the disturbance is gone?

All you can do is take deep breaths and hope that someone will find you soon, someone will come to your rescue and let you out of this godforsaken room. Those hopes however, are soon crushed as your eyes trail under the door, watching as blood begins to slowly seep under the crack.

Oh god.

Everything stopped,

Because everyone is dead.

Everyone is dead and nobody is ever going to know that you’re trapped in here. You’re going to be locked in this room forever, and nobody is ever going to find you. And Peter- Oh god what if he’s dead too?

A broken sob leaves your lips as you curl in on yourself, whole body trembling. You’re spiraling completely out of control, you can feel your heart hammering in your chest, against your ribs, in your throat, in your head. You can feel it in your ears, it doesn’t matter if you cover them, it doesn’t matter how hard you clench your jaw and push your hands against your ears, you can hear it.

Your breaths are quick, sharp— never really getting enough air. Your lungs burn. You feel dizzy. Fear clings to your chest, to your teeth, to your hands. You don’t even register the loud, broken cries that leave your mouth. Surely nobody will hear them anyway, what do you care?

Your vision blurs, fluttered and unfocused. Soon enough there are tears in your eyes, in your nose, in your throat. You’re crying, terrified, pulling the collar of your gown away from your skin, trying to get enough air in.

That’s how Peter finds you. He approaches the door carefully, wincing as he sees the body pressed up against the door, and hears your desperate cries from inside. He knows you’re claustrophobic, and he hated every second that he had to leave you in there, but once again, he had no choice.

He kicks the body of the guard away in disgust, before slowly pulling open the door. Light finally shines into the room, but you don’t even notice, too focused on trying not to pass out. He spots your trembling body in the corner, curled into the fetal position as you claw at your gown, trying to breathe properly.

“Oh sweetheart…” he sighs, stepping over the trail of blood leading into the room. Any other person would likely start panicking themselves after witnessing your state, but Peter has dealt with this a couple times before.

There was one time another orderly had gotten angry with you, and locked you in your room for the night. When Peter had found you the next morning, everything had been broken and likely thrown across the room. You had sat in the middle of it all in anguish, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks.

You hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep that night. He’d held you in his arms for roughly an hour that day, gently calming you down until you passed out from pure exhaustion. Peter was so angry. So angry that he wanted to kill that orderly with his bare hands for what he’d done to you.

Who could’ve known that it would eventually happen?

He gently kneels down in front of you, staying a few feet back as to not make you feel trapped. His eyes scan over your trembling form and he feels guilt wrack through his whole body. He begins to speak softly, trying to verbally pull you from your panic until you’re calm enough to be held,

“I know, I know you’re scared baby, but I’m here. Just breath and listen to my voice, I’m right here.“

Your face twists into one of confusion when you hear a voice. At first you think you’re imagining it, but it doesn’t go away. It’s muffled and far away, but then it gets louder, closer. In fact it’s beginning to sound like-

“You’re okay sweetheart.”

You snap your head up, tear-blurred eyes searching for the culprit like a deer in headlights, until they finally rest on the figure in front of you,

“P-Peter?” You choke out. It hardly sounds like your voice at all, it’s strangled and raw and it’s forced out between rapid breaths. He tries to hide the way he winces, providing you with a small smile instead, though you can hardly see it through your tears.

“It’s me darling.”

Normally he would have to ask you if you want to be held, but this time you don’t even give him the chance to. You quickly scramble up from your spot on the ground, before hurling yourself into his arms with a broken cry. Right now you don’t even care that he’s the reason you’re so distraught, you’re just glad that he’s okay.

He’s quick to wrap his body around yours, sitting against the wall and cradling you against him. You bury your face in the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, muffling your heartbreaking sobs, “I didn’t- I couldn’t- I thought you were d-de-”

He shushes you gently, cradling the back of your head as you weep into his neck. His other hand is placed on your back, his fingers slowly gliding up and down your spine.

“I’m okay, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.” He turns, placing a kiss in your hair, “I need you to take some deep breaths for me though okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

You try your best to follow his instructions, struggling for the first few minutes, but he’s patient with you. He so patient with you, in fact, that he lets your tears and snot stain his shirt. Though in hindsight that’s not saying much, considering it’s already covered in blood.

You finally manage to suck in a breath, and he praises you, continuing to guide you through it until your breathing is finally back on track. Your tears haven’t quite subsided yet as you pull back from his grip to face him, hands resting around his neck.

“W-why did you leave me?” You sniffle, “You know I can’t- I hate-” you can’t even get the words out before another sob wracks through your body.

“Shhh…” He pulls you back towards him, cradling your face in his hands as he rests his forehead against yours, “I know baby, I know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to leave you here, but I had no other choice.” He grips your chin gently, lifting your head up so your eyes meet his, “You’re the most important thing in the world to me. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

You sniffle, nodding your head as you attempt to understand his reasoning, still not really understanding why he left in the first place. “I-I was so scared. I didn’t know if you were hurt…I-I thought I was gonna be stuck in here.” He’s shaking his head before you can even finish, wiping the tears from your face with the pads of his thumbs. He gently grasps one of your wrists, guiding your hand to his chest, placing it over his heart,

“You feel that?” He asks, and you nod, feeling the gentle thump of his heart beating against his chest. It’s calm, collected, like he knows everything is going to be fine, “I’m alright. I promise. I would never leave you alone if I didn’t think I would be okay.”

You nod again, sniffling as he continues to hold your hand in his, examining it. He frowns, seeing how beaten and battered it is, wasting no time to grab the other one, examining that one as well. He tuts, looking up at you in pity,

“You poor thing-” he lifts your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on each knuckle, before doing the same with the other one. Your heart flutters in your chest as he does. How he manages to be so calm and soft with you in a moment like this will forever baffle you. He’s always been like this with you, when nobody else was. He’s so sweet, and kind, and gentle, and-

He’s covered in blood.

You’re pushing away from him before he can even try to stop you. Your scramble up from the floor, backing yourself against the opposite wall.

“Whose blood is that?”

He stands, hands outstretched like he’s trying not to frighten a baby deer. “Darling-”

“Peter…whose blood is that?” You ask again, a frightened edge to your tone. He doesn’t answer you.

“Is that why you- you-” your breathing picks up again as you put two and two together, “Is that why you locked me in here? Did you do all this?”

“I did what I had to…” he confesses, carefully taking a step towards you.

“What you had to?!” You let out a hysterical laugh, “I don’t understand I-” you’re trembling again, thinking about all of the screams and the bodies that had been pushing past you not even 30 minutes ago. Are they all dead? Did they all spend the last few seconds of their life fearing the man in front of you? And what about-

“Oh my god Peter, the kids…”

“The kids are fine. They’re all safe.” He’s lying through his teeth, but he has to. If he doesn’t he’s going to lose you completely. You aren’t as strong as he is, you’re softer, more fragile. He has to take that into consideration, otherwise you’ll never forgive him, “They’re all safe in the rainbow room. I made sure of it.”

“But why?” You hiccup, “Why do all this? Why kill everyone?”

He clenches his jaw, wondering if you’re really ready to know. Although, with everything else going on, he figures it’s as good of a time as any. He reaches down, slowly rolling up the sleeve of his perfectly cuffed shirt. You squint your eyes to see what he could possibly be trying to show you and- oh my god.

Your face contorts into shock and you take a step closer to him, making sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You furrow your brows, glancing back and forth between it and your own tattoo, lifting your arm to compare them. Sure enough, his 001 perfectly matches the shape and size of the 002 on your wrist.

He watches you carefully, gauging your reaction. “That’s… not possible.” You whisper, and his eyebrow raises in slight amusement.

“No?”

You shake your head, so unbelievably confused. Your whole world- everything you’ve ever known has come crashing down on you in the last hour and you can feel your brain malfunctioning.

“Papa said-”

“That 001 isn’t real? That I don’t exist? That you’re the original?” It almost sounds like he’s taunting you, but when you look up he just looks sad, like he’s disappointed to be telling you this. “I’ve always been here, locked away in this godforsaken place. And I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m no story, I am very much real.”

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of how to process this new information.

“I was once free you know,” you look up at him, curious as to what he means, “I had a life outside of this place, a home. But then he took me away. He took me away from all of it when I was only a child.” He spits, beginning to circle you, as if he’s the predator and you’re his prey.

“He used me, tested on me; he didn’t care how much it would hurt.” You assume he’s talking about Papa. It isn’t news to you that he’s selfish, backstabbing man. “But then, he decided one of me wasn’t enough. He tried to copy me, clone me. And just like that, you were born. And eventually, there were seventeen others, who were all treated with respect- no painful tests, no beatings, no going hungry… and I was locked away. Forced to keep my identity a secret for so many years while…all the little brats got everything they ever needed.”

You flinch at his tone, and he stops behind you. You can feel his gaze eyeing you up and down, unsure if he’s upset with you or not. You’re startled when you feel his hand slip around you, cradling the side of your face, and turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. It’s an awkward position, but the intensity in his eyes is back, and you can’t force yourself to fight him.

“Except for you,” He hums, pressing his body lightly against yours. You feel a heat rise to your cheeks, not being used to this level of closeness with him, “You know what it’s like to be isolated, excluded, unappreciated… you’re different from them. You always have been.” You feel your eyes slowly slipping closed, not from exhaustion, more so letting yourself relax into him as he speaks, taking in every word.

“You’re so special, and much more powerful than the rest of them. Almost as powerful as me, you just haven’t realized it yet.” You don’t really believe it, but it feels nice to hear. It feels nice to finally have someone notice and appreciate you after all this time.

“I did this so I can be free again… so we can be free.” Your eyes peel open once more, confusion written all over your face. You? Free? That’s something you’ve never really known.

“Me?” You whisper timidly and he nods. You frown, spinning to face him, “You mean… we’re leaving?”

He nods again, a soft knowing smile resting on his face. Of course leaving would be scary for you. You’ve lived your entire life here, and now you’re being asked to leave it all behind for him. “I want you by my side.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, processing all of this. You’d never seen the outside world before, and frankly you’ve never given it much thought at all. But with Peter it couldn’t be so bad right?

“I-I don’t know if-”

He steps even closer, pressing his body completely against yours, and you’re cut off by your own surprised gasp as you look up at him. He smirks, seemingly knowing the affect he has on you.

“Oh but there’s so many things you’re missing out on sweetheart. So many things you’d never be allowed to experience here.” You gulp, widening eyes never leaving his as you chew on your bottom lip. Curiosity finally gets the better of you and you gather the courage to ask,

“Like what?”

His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips as he leans down, gently cupping your cheek in his hand, “Like this,” he mumbles, before pressing his soft lips against yours. You can’t help but squeak in surprise as he kisses you, not really knowing what’s happening. He chuckles against your lips, wrapping his other hand around your waist, “Just follow my lead.”

You try you best to keep up, slowly beginning to get the hang of it. You’re loving the feeling of his lips on yours, never wanting it to end. You clench your fists a few times, not really knowing what to do with them, and he takes notice, gently guiding them up and around his neck.

His lips are soft and pillowy against your own, and a warm fuzzy feeling grows in your chest as he tugs you impossibly closer to him. He gently bites down on your bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you catch your breath.

It isn’t until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed that you notice he’s moved the two of you backwards, and you fall onto the mattress.

He slowly crawls on top of you, placing kisses all over your face, your lips, cheeks, forehead, nose… and you’re a giggling mess underneath him. He slowly makes his way down your neck and to your collarbone, tugging on the collar of your gown to gain access.

“Mmm feels- feels so good Peter.” You don’t even think to stop the moans and whimpers that escape your lips while he gently suckles and bites your skin.

“Such pretty noises baby… and they’re all for me? What a sweet little thing you are.” He hums against your skin. Your eyes roll back, hips bucking up involuntarily at his words, and he cooes at you, “You like that hm? You like when I praise you? Such a good girl aren’t you?” You nod frantically, a whine leaving your lips. You don’t really know why you like it, or why you’re reacting like this, but you do know that you don’t want it to stop. You don’t want any of this to stop, no matter where it goes.

His hands slide down your body as he marks up the delicate skin of your neck, groping, feeling every inch of your gorgeous body. His fingertips finally reach the hem of your gown and he lifts his lips from your skin, examining the already fucked-out look on your face.

“Do you want me to take this off of you sweetheart?” He asks, gently tugging on the article of clothing. You look up at him, eyes blown out as you try to come up with a response, “What happens if you do?” You ask timidly.

He smirks, leaning down to peck a kiss against your cheek, “Well, then I’ll get to make you feel good.”

You squint at him, “But you’re already making me feel good?” You say, unsure if you meant for it to be a question or not. He chuckles at your naivety, touching his forehead to yours and pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, “Mmm but I can make you feel so much better than this. Is that what you want baby?”

You don’t even waste a second, nodding your head frantically, wanting nothing more than for him to give you pleasure. However he’s grabbing your chin lightly before anything else,

“Ah ah ah, let’s use our words. Wanna make sure this is actually what you want.”

And how could it not be? Sure, this is all brand new to you; it’s nerve-wracking and scary even… but it feels so good. There’s an intense pressure building between your legs, and you’d give anything for Peter to make it go away, to make it feel better.

After giving it maybe two seconds of thought, you’re nodding your head again as your lips part, “I-I want this. I want it Peter, promise.” He considers asking if you’re sure, but with the way your lips are pouted, and your eyes are so wide and blown out, he can tell you’re running out of patience.

“Okay sweetheart, okay.” He obliges, slowly lifting the hem of the gown up, helping you slide it up your body and over your head, disposing of it somewhere on the floor. His eyes rake up and down every inch of your exposed skin, taking you in. He practically drools at the sight of your breasts, reaching up to gently fondle them in his hands.

“Oh baby,” he watches as you preen underneath his touches, “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect for me.”

You can’t even imagine how you must look to him right now. Laid underneath him in nothing but a pair of panties, chest heaving, eyes blown wide, and your mind so foggy and blissful as he begins to tug on your nipples. Your hips buck up yet again as he does so, and you react with a whine. You need him so bad, you need to feel him touching you all over.

He chuckles darkly, dipping down to place a kiss to the valley between your breasts, “I’ve got you baby.” One of his hands slowly trails down your tummy, making its way to the hem of your underwear. It startles you with how fast he dips his hand underneath the fabric, swiping two of his fingers through your folds. Your whole body jolts and you gasp in surprise. He slips his hand back out, observing the excessive amount of slick that coats his fingers.

“Mmm look at how wet you are darling, you’ve soaked through your panties entirely. What a messy little thing you are.” He places his fingers between his lips, moaning around them as he cleans his slick coated digits. You can’t help but watch, completely mesmerized by how dirty all of this is. He was right, this is something you’d never in a thousand years be able to experience if you were to stay here. Papa would have be so enraged…but you don’t have care about him. You don’t have to listen to Papa anymore.

He dips down between your legs again, both hands gently tugging your white panties down your legs. You almost feel embarrassed at the way he has to peel the cloth away from your soaked cunt, but he moans at the sight, instantly calming your anxieties.

He watches in awe as your messy cunt pulses, drooling from your tight little hole. He looks up at you, blowing cool air right onto your clit, watching in amusement as your pussy twitches and you whine. You look down at his position, feeling confusion feign through you once again, “What are you doing?” You squeak out, watching his eyes raise to meet yours again, amusement filling them.

“I’m going to make you feel good baby. But first-” He sits up just a little bit to gather your attention, “Hands above your head.” You squint at him, wondering why he could be asking such a thing of you right now. “You heard me darling, go on and put your hands above your head.”

You oblige, lifting them up and over your head, resting them against the pillow. He smiles, placing a delicate kiss you to inner thigh, and your hips buck again in pure desperation. “Good girl, now keep them there for me.”

You don’t have enough time to respond and ask why, before his mouth is on you, devouring your sweet little cunt. The sensation feels so foreign to you, yet is has you writhing around like a crazy person as he eats you out. You whimper and whine as he swipes his tongue from your hole up to your clit.

He loves how noisy you are as he makes out with your soaked cunt. Your moans fill the air as you take everything that’s he’s giving you, and the twisted part inside of him is so grateful that he’s the only one that can hear you. He can’t even stand the thought of someone else hearing you like this, some other guard pleasuring you between your legs as you writhe desperately.

No, these pretty noises and your body are his. All his, and nobody else’s. His tongue laps at your clit before flicking it through your folds, and looking up at you through his lashes. He dips his tongue down to your weepy hole, circling it around the entrance to taste you, and your back arches, grinding down into his face.

“Oh- Oh god Peter! Mmm feels good, feels so good oh fuck!”

That’s right, he thinks, moan my name while I take what’s mine. He knows just how good he’s making you feel, and he’ll continue to make you feel this good over and over again after you leave this place. He’ll have you weak at the knees with every gentle touch, ready to let him use you however he pleases. You’ll be his perfect little pet, needing him all the time, craving to be touched by him, tasted by him, filled by him-

But you’re not ready for that just yet. As much as he wants to see you writhe and moan like a perfect little slut while you take every inch of his cock, he doesn’t want to rush you into anything. This is all about you and your pleasure right now, not his. Though he does find it very pleasurable to be buried face first in your sweet little cunt.

You mewl as he swirls his tongue around your clit while gently suckling on it. Your hole continues to flutter and soak the sheets below you, so he can’t help it when he finds himself slowly rimming it with one of his fingers. He begins to push it inside of you, slowly pressing it in inch by inch, slowly lapping at your clit as he watches your whole body tense up, a broken cry escaping you.

“P-Peter!”

You’re so tight around his finger, and when he finally pushes it knuckle deep he cooes as your whole body trembles in ecstasy. You feel a coil in your lower tummy tightening dangerously, as you feel a high of sorts approaching. Your toes are beginning to curl and— oh god his mouth feels so good on you, sucking and devouring your clit like it’s his last meal.

The way he’s stretching you out on his finger feels otherworldly. If you’d have only known that this level of ecstasy was possible, you would have begged Peter for this a long time ago. And considering how much he’s enjoying this, you can’t help but wonder if he’s wanted this for a while as well.

You’re grinding your hips down to meet his tongue as high pitched whines and moans leave your lips. He can tell you’re getting close, and a wicked thought crosses his mind. He slowly curls his finger upward inside of you, and you cry out so loudly that your body snaps forward, and your hands are gripping his hair. You’re so close, chasing the high as you grip his hair between your trembling fingers.

But then it stops, and you’re pushed back down against the mattress by an unseen force.

“No!” You cry, tears instantly filling your eyes as all of the pleasure is ripped away from you, pulling you back from the edge you were teetering on, “No no no Peter- please!”

He hums waiting a moment to speak as he listens to your begging and whining. He knows how close you were to cumming, but you broke his rule and moved your hands.

“What did I tell you before I started?” He asks patiently, crawling back up your body, hovering over the top of you to see your face. You huff out shaky breaths as you try your best to think past your cloudy mind.

“I-I…I don’t- I can’t-” you stutter out, bottom lip wobbling as a few tears leak from your eyes, feeling everything becoming just a little too much for you.

“Shhh,” he shushes gently, wiping the tears from your face. His thumb moves to caress your temple and you hiccup, “Yes you can. Deep breath for me, c’mon.” You oblige, following his instructions as your chest rises and falls slowly, “You can do it sweetheart, what did I tell you before I started?”

“You-you said…” you press your eyes shut, trying to remember his exact words before he started eating you out so blissfully, “You said… to keep my hands up.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “My smart girl.” He mumbles, and your skin flushes a deep red at the praise.

“And do you know why I stopped?“ He continues, eyeing you carefully.

“Because I didn’t keep my hands up.” You grumble, he lets it slide for now, knowing you’re still a bit worked up.

“That’s right,” he strokes some of your hair from your face, “You didn’t listen, so I had to stop.”

The pout on your face only grows and you find yourself talking back to him, “But that’s not fair! It-it felt so good and I couldn’t help it! That was so mean and-” you’re cut off as he grips your chin, firmly squeezing your cheeks between his fingers.

“Hey,” he chides, “Where did this attitude come from hm?“

You don’t respond, you can’t really respond with the way he’s holding your face, but he can see in your eyes how your mood immediately shifts, melting for him once again.

“I thought you wanted to be a good girl for me? Cause you’re not being very good right now.” You whimper in response, nodding your head under his grip to show him that you wanna be good again, wanna be perfect for him.

“Yeah? You gonna be good again? Gonna stop giving me attitude?” He releases his grip on your face to let you speak, and you do, pleas falling from your mouth as you tell him just how good you’ll be.

“Think you can keep your hands up here this time baby?” He asks politely, tapping your wrists that rest above your head. You pause for a moment, before shaking your head, wanting to be honest with him.

“I-I don’t think I can…I wanna be good! Honest!” You rush out, “I just- I don’t think I can keep them here.” You pause, chewing on your lip as you try to think of how to ask the next part. Peter watches you closely, feeling like he already knows what you’re about to say, “Can you um- can you maybe help me?”

And god what kind of monster would he be if he didn’t oblige to you. The way you stare up at him through wide bleary eyes, the way you nervously chew on your trembling bottom lip, and the way you asked so sweetly…he can never say no to you.

“Since you asked so politely, yes sweetheart I can do that for you.” You sigh in relief as you feel him slowly climbing back down your body, situating himself between your legs once more. You feel a pressure against your wrists as they are pinned down above your head, and you whimper out a small, “Thank you.”

“Of course darling,” and with that his lips are attached to you again, tongue swirling around your clit mercilessly.

“A-Ah!” You cry out, unable to stop the way your legs are trembling around his head. The relief is so good, he’d left your poor cunt unattended and desperate for the last few minutes, and he intended to make up for it in every way possible.

His slips his finger back inside of you and you squirm underneath him, bucking your hips to fuck yourself on his digit. His finger continues to pump in and out of you as he devours your poor little cunt. Tears prick at your eyes from how fucking good it feels.

You unintentionally try to move your hands every few moments, only to be reminded of the weighted pressure against them, as Peter keeps them constrained with his powers. The feeling of being pinned down beneath him as he pleasures you only makes everything more intense, and you can feel that familiar pressure building up once more.

Fear creeps in at the thought of him repeating what happened last time you felt that pressure building, and you begin to mindlessly beg, “Mmmm please don’t stop- god don’t stop Peter. I-I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good just please don’t stop.” You cry out, chasing your high again as you buck against his tongue.

And god he wouldn’t dream of it, in fact, he suckles on your clit even harder, slowly pushing another finger into your hole, desperately wanting you to come undone on his tongue.

The stretch around his fingers is what finally pushes you over the edge, and your back arches high as your orgasm tears through you like a white hot heat. You cry and your eyes roll back into your head as intense waves of pleasure shoot through your body. You’re rocking your hips desperately against his tongue, just riding it out.

He hums around your clit as you clench and pulse around his fingers, continuing to thrust them deep in your cunt as you ride out the high. He doesn’t stop until your back finally meets the mattress again, and your a panting sweating mess.

“God just look at you,” He slowly pulls his fingers from your hole, admiring the aftermath of your ruined pussy, “So good for me, look at how much you came.”

You whimper in response, letting his praise infiltrate your floaty, fucked out mind. You feel the weight let up on your wrists, but you keep them there, absentmindedly fearing his wrath. It isn’t until they’re lifted from their position, and gentle kisses are placed along your wrists that you open your eyes, meeting his fiery blue ones.

“There she is.” He smiles down at you, stroking your cheek. You smile back at him, still feeling floaty and euphoric.

“Hi…” you whisper, and he chuckles, admiring how cute you are like this.

“Hi.” He responds, utterly amused, “How was that?”

You hum in delight, nodding your head. “I don’t think I could ever get enough of that.” A smirk creeps onto his face at your answer, as he studies your naked body beneath him.

He’s done it, he’s finally done it. He’s going to leave this living hell, and he’s going to do it with you exactly where he wants you. Wrapped around his finger, and well, eventually his cock. And god he can’t wait for the day he’ll finally get to ruin and defile you.

“Peter?” You ask timidly, cutting off his thoughts. He hums in response, “Thank you.” You genuinely mean that, and he knows it.

“You’re welcome darling.”

Oh yeah, you’re his now, and he’s never letting you go.

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igotbloodonmyhands · 2 months

Text

Alive / Part X

Trigger warning: Mentions and descriptions about sexual abuse and rape. Word count: 459

The rest of the breakfast was tasty, but awkward. Ghost felt like Molly knew. (She does). She kept glancing at him and Soap, who were sitting next to each other, a mischevious smirk on her face.

After finishing eating, they helped clean the dishes and went up to their bedroom to brush their teeth. Ghost was quiet, but he could feel Soaps eyes on him the entire time. He wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy what happened, not at all. It just felt so.... Weird. Unfamiliar. He's had his fair share of experiences, but it has been years. And in the mean time there were some.... Rather unpleasant events. He stood in front of the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. He could feel their hands on him, doing whatever they wanted to with his body, forcing him to go on his knees and please them. He wanted to puke, nausea overcoming him. "I had to , I had to, I had to survive", he repeated over and over in his mind, a tear rolling down his cheek. It had taken years before he could even touch himself again without having a panic attack. Since then no one had touched him in that way. He didn't want them to. Sometimes he missed the intimacy, but he was afraid to crave it, knowing he wouldn't be able to allow someone so close to him. But now there was Soap. Ghost damned himself for it, but he trusted the man. Fuck, he loved him. And for the first time in what seemend like a lifetime, he craved touch. His touch. His hands dug in his neck, knuckles white and leaving small, red shapes in his skin.

"You ok in there, lt?", Soaps voice sounded from outside the door. "Er, yea, 'm fine", Ghost hurried to answer, voice a bit choked up. Soap didn't say anything. Quickly wiping his wet eyes and putting on his stoic expression, he stepped out the bathroom. He was certain Soap could see that he had cried, but he luckily didn't say anything.

"So, you wanna go for a hike?", Soap asked lowly, inching closer to Ghost, putting his hands on his waist. Ghost suddenly felt claustrophobic. He loved his touch and hated it at the same time. He stumbled backwards. Soap looked confused at a bit hurt, no, more regretful.

Ghost cleared his throat. "Yea, why not. Lovely weather", he mumbled. He began to look for his cargo pants and a shirt. Soap was awfully quiet. Ghost wanted to slap himself for repulsing. He craved him so much it hurt. It scared him.

He turned around, wanting to say something. "I'm sorry, Johnny", he said.

But Soap was already gone.

Note: I did not plan for this to turn out this dark, but I wanted to bring in an explanation for Ghosts mixed feelings on intimacy, since his sexual abuse and rape are canon. I've personally never read the comics, so this is just my interpretation. I also want to mention that the reactions to sexual trauma are extremely subjective, how I described it here is just my personal experience.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghost x soap #soapghost #angst #slow burn #heavy angst #cod soap #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #cod john mactavish #cod john soap mactavish #cod ghost

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lolia21 · 3 months

Text

Well I feel down a Sanders Sides rabbit hole and now I have one fan fic idea that keeps playing in my head:

Remus and Roman are twins but they don't attend the same school because Remus was... himself and his parents were kindly asked to transfer him to a school that "fits his personality better". So he goes to a school a whole district over. He gets along with Roman and he loves him but they are very different people so they don't hang out a lot. Remus also can't stand the blatant favoritism they're parent give Roman. He thinks it's sweet that Roman tries to tap it down but it doesn't change anything.

Sp Remus spends most of his free time at his friend Janus house with his other friend Virgil. Janus also shouldn't be attending their school cause he's loaded but he hated the prep school he was sent to and transferred behind his parents back. Money can get you literally anything. Expect real friends which is why Janus loves Remus and Virg so much. Virgil is actually living at a near by boys home. As a kid his home situation wasn't great and he doesn't talk about it a lot. He ended up at Sanders House four years ago though and it's not too bad.

So anyway Roman has never meet Remus' friends and Remus has never met Roman's friend Patton and Logan. Whenever they come over is always at Janus' house. He knows they exist just like Roman knows Virgil and Janus do but they've not met in person over the last two years.

So it all starts pm a long weekend because Halloween is Friday. ( fun fact my school in gerogia gave us Halloween and Valentines off and used it as teacher workshop days.)

So of course the dark side trio is hype, roaming the mall, scaring people, judging costumes, and trying to find accessories to improve their own.

The light side trio is also their because Patton waited too late to get a "decent" (Roman's words) costume, and Logan was hoping to avoid getting one at all.

The crowds get so bad that everyone is separated. Luckily both sides actually have designated met spots, tho for very different reasons. The darks sides met spot is the horror section at Barnes and Nobles. It's large enough that Virgil won't feel claustrophobic and he can read some Poe while he waits and not have people constantly asking if he needs assistance. It was a place chosen, so he doesn't have a panic attack while he waits for his friends since he's the only one without a phone.

On the other had the light side trio chose the lgbtq+ teen romance section as their meet spot. Mainly Because it'll distract Roman enough that he won't get bored of waiting and wonder out to find his friends before they get there. Defeating the purpose of the spot all together.

You can see where this is going.

Patton has been trying to get on the elevator for the last five minuets but everyone time he tries to get on the same time as someone else he let's them all go first and theres no room for him. This goes on until a nice but kinda rude stranger just days "oh my gawd" and pulls him in as he in goes in. The stranger honestly looks way to well dressed to be here and doesn't even introduce himself. He just starts playing on his phone and Patton doesn't know whether saying thank you would be annoying or not. Janus on the other hand is texting Remus about how just met someone who reminds him a little of freshman Virgil and how he hopes he's not freaking out.

Logan has decided to take the stairwell because he knows that people arr less likely to use it over the escalators or elevators. He looks a floor above him and someone who kinda sorta looks like Roman sliding down the railing on his ass and laughing the whole time. He barely has time to dodge as someone yells " dodge nerd" and flies past him. Honestly Logans so surprised by whatever the hell that was that it take him two whole ass minutes to start walking again. Remus is just having a blast. He didn't think this would work and he saw a pretty cute nerd on the way down.

Roman is having a complicated time. He lgbtq teen romance section is usually in the front if the store but it's been switched with the horror section for the month. So here is is not being able to decide whether he should just stay here because the ia the physical spot he normals what's at or go the the actual section with all the books about the boys kissing that he likes to read. Virgil on the other hand is on the virge (ha) of kinda freaking out. He's happy that the sectionnis getting more love, even if it's only for money. But he liked that it was in the back and away from the crowds of people coming in and out. Not to mention theirs someone dude dresses like a prince yelling on the phone to someone named Patton about whether he should "go to the section of love and acceptance or stay in emo hell". Virgil is insulted enough by this to tell him Roman to please stop yelling and go to whatever section isn't here. Roman rolls his eyes calls him knock off Gerard way and ignores him. Virgil completely forgets how nervous he was becuase now his piss3d and they get into an arguments.

It ends when Patton walks in and calls for Roman at the same time that Janus calls in and calls for Virgil. They look to their friend seemingly coming in together and are about to complain to their respective friends when Janus, Virgil and Roman here a familiar voice go

"Brobro what are you doing here. Hey Jan, hey virge," and Remus walks in completely unaware of the fighting that was just happening. Virgil tries to actually get a good like at this guy's face and realizes that without the make up and general zanny disposition he does look a lot like Remus. Before anyone can respond tk that, an another person asks

"OH God Roman what did you do? Who are they?" And of course it's Logan.

So now are dark sides are standing on one side and all the lights on the other. As the two siblings and their two different friend groups collide. Teen hurt, comfort and angst ensues.

#intrulogical #prinxeity #ts patton #ts janus #ts remus #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #fan fic writing #sanders sides #high school au #from meet cute to meet demons to meet enemies

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hanibalistic · 1 year

Text

#FFDA78 | MARK LEE.

genre | romance, fluff, angst

word count | 1604

warning | themes of domestic abuse (parental)

note | i was thinking about what my neighbors were thinking when they could hear me next door

mark thought he saw something on your face; a smeared eyeshadow fading in color and a straight line on your cheek drenched in scab red. he thought he saw something on your face, and his intuition was correct.

the way you knew his hands was defined by their callousness.

mark took good care of his skin, but the care extended no further than his face. when it came to his hands, he was still trying to squeeze out the residue left in his 1-year hand cream. they were often dry and rough to the touch, but you never minded the skin contact. something about their oldness reminded you of your father’s hands, but in the way mark’s would never be injurious.

he ran the tip of his finger across the scab on your cheek with ease. it must have been some cut; you told him your mother threw a pen at you, and the tip grazed your cheek. he didn’t laugh when you joked that she could be a sharpshooter. you closed your left eye instinctively when he smoothed his thumb over the surface of the lid. the smeared eyeshadow fading in a dark purple hue was a black eye. your father’s anger was evident in the shades of its disgusting colors.

you let mark touch your face because he wanted to and he knew how to. he was used to delicacy because he grew up collecting musical trinkets like vintage music boxes with breakable ballerinas in them, or the hackable motherboard of an electronic music player released more than ten years ago. but mostly, mark knew how not to hurt you because the thought had never crossed his mind, and humans are incapable of executing what their mind has no knowledge of.

“come in,” he said after he let go. he turned to his apartment door with a chunky lot of keys in his hand to unlock the door. “let me put some medicinal cream on them.”

the small apartment was all he could afford with his faraway dream of pursuing a music career, but you always thought it was homey, and it smelt of him.

there was an unmade twin-sized bed; the only thing he paid for was the frame and everything else—the mattress and the sheets—he took from his old bedroom at his parents’ house. you slept on it alone a couple of times, each time with a different blood trail on your skin. mark slept squeezed on it with you once because you were crying nonstop that night; he never questioned how terrifying it must have been to be threatened an ultimatum with a waving kitchen knife.

the apartment has a small closet built into the wall. the door was always opened whenever you were there, and he was always halfway through hanging his clothes up, even though he didn’t have many. mark liked to wear oversized clothes, as did you. it was the deceiving perception of your bodies that you both enjoyed so much. with mark’s clothes, you also loved that they smelt of him, and he loved that they would smell of you when you return them thoroughly washed.

mark saved up for months to get a small, waist-sized refrigerator. his parents and in-laws offered to buy him a regular one, but he insisted on making this purchase by himself. the fridge was always full of boxes of microwavable meals, box lunches, and an unlimited supply of soda cans. sometimes you would hide outside food in his fridge, mostly desserts from bakeries, so your parents wouldn’t think you were hoarding your part-time income all to yourself.

compared to what you had next door, with beer-bottle carpets and opened caskets of leftovers, mark’s home was everything you could ever ask for.

the first aid kit sitting in the cabinet under his bathroom sink, claustrophobic with unopened shampoo bottles, scented lotions, toothbrush packs, and soap bars, was not here before. neither did he use to have so many medicinal items in his home before. the most he owned were bandaids and migraine pills. welcoming you into his life also welcomed a lot of expenses spent on home remedies in preparation for what he knew would always eventually happen. the first aid kit was a box he bought for you.

mark set the first aid kit down on his bedside table and opened it. you sat down on the edge of his bed like you always do when you know he has something in his kit for you. looking inside and rummaging through the box, he picked out a travel-sized vaseline tub and a bottle of ibuprofen. he researched it online before to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally make everything worse; vaseline to moisturize the scab, and ibuprofen for the inflammation and pain of your black eye.

“have you eaten anything today?” he asked after he knelt before you. his hands were busy opening the pill bottle, and his eyes were busy observing you.

you smiled faintly, and mark nodded in acknowledgment. he dumped the ibuprofen onto his palm and handed it to you. after screwing the lid shut, he reached for his water bottle on his bedside table and weighed it with his hand. he refilled it yesterday night before he went to sleep, and there was water left in there still. he gave you the water bottle and watched you take the pill.

you chugged the water as if this was the first time you’d been hydrated since ages ago. mark chuckled lowly—genuinely—when you failed to heave an exaggerated sigh of contentment after drinking all his water. he took the bottle from your hand and set it aside, then reached up to wipe the corner of your mouth of water droplets. you pursed your lips at the feeling of his thumb on your lips and the backs of his fingers pressing against your chin. you stuck your tongue out to the side where he was cleaning off the water droplets and touched his finger, making him giggle.

“hey! that’s nasty!” he accused playfully, waving his hand with his thumb sticking out as if the air would clean it.

you shrugged with a mirroring of his childishness. the smile on your face was thoughtless and effortless; it was of splendid innocence and untraditional immaturity. an inner-child that has peace as opposed to the debilitating contrast that comes out in your own home. you wished that was not the case, and you knew mark also prayed that it wasn’t the case, but you would always be small in front of your parents. you would always be a kid before your parents, just instead of peace, you have everything but.

your eyes focused when you felt mark’s hand on your face. he pushed at your hair, reading your face intently even though everything was undoubtedly presented to them. you never put a wall up to guard against his approach, and you suspected you would in the future. mark watched the joy on your face flattened into contemplation over his own as if you were waiting for him to break some bad news to you, but he has none to give.

he was only watching you because he enjoyed it.

that, and because he owned unfathomable guilt pieced together from your broken skin and unlimited endearment for the way your heart has not the callousness of his hands.

mark knew everything important about you. he knew whenever you bled and where you bled; he recorded with his mind what medicine worked for you body and what worsened conditions; he touched your naked chest and uncovered back, and he recognized whether it was the yellow bruises or the cold touch of his fingers that gave you shivers. you two spent so much time together, and he knew everything about you to a point where he could no longer separate his existence from yours.

you were always in the apartment with him. he was always tasting your shoulder between his teeth. you were never happy next door. he was never at ease with you in his field of vision.

“mark…?” you grabbed his hand because you could see traces of difficulties in his eyes rolling around like gleams of water.

he pursed his lips into a frown. “i’m so sick of your parents.”

mark rubbed your cheek with tenderness like threading a needle when you widened your eyes and squeezed his wrist at the sudden statement. your hands were soft as your heart was; he never knew how retaliation and displacement were never within your line of thoughts. he never understood that while you learned of violence and shame at your parents’ feet, you learned to be loved and cared for under his hands.

there was a knot he swallowed down his throat to his hammering heart. his heart told him he was in love with you, but the knot asked him for how long?

“me too,” you giggled.

his chest quivered at the scab on your cheek that quirked with you—the vaseline on his bedside came back to mind. he remembered he was going to apply it on your face. he was going to refill his water bottle for you to get hydrated. and he was going to ask you to stay at his apartment for the night to eat microwavable bento boxes with him. and you were both sick of your parents, but under his calloused hands and between the two weights on his twin-sized bed, you still got to learn what it means to be loved.

for how long?

his heart dissolved the knot. it replied: forever.

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biggerbetterbat · 8 months

Text

WITH YOU [2] THE DAY THAT WORLD WENT TO SHIT

Daryl Dixon x reader!OC

Summary: after what she saw it the safe zone, Charlie can’t live her normal perfect life. She knows that she has two options: wait for the death or do someting.

Warnings: language

Song: If I die young The Band Perry

Author’s note: Hello :) Thank you for reading the first chapter and liking it. I promise that it’s the last chapter like that and in the next one true action will happen.

DAYLIGHT ON WATTPAD

It was different.

Something at least felt different.

She was going to work, smiling brightly to the camera, and then quickly coming back home. Going out was challenging and she felt paranoid that from around the corner, she might get attacked. So obviously there was no walking around after dark.

Ever since her visit to the safe zone, she couldn't sleep - it's been three days.

Every time she was lying in her bed and the slightest shadow of sleep was approaching, her sense of hearing sharpened. It was enough that she heard her neighbors, some screaming on the street, little noises that normally wouldn't matter, and she was up. Not to mention that as soon as it was getting dark, she was lighting every light in her house.

Sometimes she got a little bit of sleep. Usually, it was on the couch while she was watching something, sometimes she was waking up on a windowsill with her head leaning on a glass.

That was another thing.

She was sitting late at night on her windowsill, watching the city. It was her habit before the virus, made her mind wander to different places, turning itself off. All the lights and cars or planes noises. She couldn't believe how lucky she was. But now she was also feeling lucky, but only because her flat was high above the ground - high enough to protect her.

With fear, she could watch the streets now.

When the epidemic had just started, people lived their normal lives. They were walking at night, hanging out and just living. Now, it was quiet. People still had to live or go to work, but after sunset, there was no one outside. And when she did see someone in the dark it was obvious that it wasn't a living person.

Atlanta looked dead.

One night Charlie saw one of those things from her window and she lost her mind. It couldn't see her from the ground, but from that moment she felt like a desert on a plate. Ready to be eaten.

She was getting ready to work that morning. Her insides were already up in her throat, her hand shaking with fear. Charlie opened her bag and without hesitation put a knife inside of it and chuckled humorlessly. In the past her necessity was Dior lipstick or Chanel's perfumes, now she would love to have one of her dad's guns.

The most stressful moments of leaving her house were going down or up the elevator. It was claustrophobic and there was no way out if something went wrong. She was going down the corridor to the elevator with her heart on her shoulder. It was stressful waiting for it and even more stressful when it opened.

During waiting time she was looking out the window. She could jump out of the window because right next to her building was a lower building with a flat roof, and then next to this one was another and another. At the end of this sequence of buildings was a ladder, so she could go down.

Somebody touched her arm.

Her heart stopped and her blood ran cold. She was sure that that was the end, that's how she died. With fear, she turned around and what she saw was put into calmness again.

"Hey." a young man smiled. "Did I scare you?" his face dropped.

It was Sam.

He was her neighbor and lived at the end of the corridor. He was around thirty and they were on three dates top. Sam was a charming man, who had a lot to say about everything and he liked to crack jokes here and there.

"Hey." she smiled lightly. "Yeah. You did a bit."

"Sorry." he said. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Oh...yeah. I'm not going out much lately." she shrugged. "With everything that's been going on...you know."

He let her enter the elevator first as the true gentleman he was. Charlie smiled lightly and picked the right floor that they were both going into.

"Maybe you let me invite you to a dinner?" he asked with hopeful eyes. "At mines. If you don't want to go out. We had fun last time."

And the thing was that they didn't.

Charlie was a good actress and she didn't have the heart to break it to Sam, that she wasn't having fun. Let's say that he was perfect in every way possible. Forgetting that he had an amazing apartment much bigger than hers, Sam was a lawyer in one of the most popular office in Atlanta. His monthly paycheck was enough for him to pay rent and to drive around in a brand-new Maserati.

He liked to look good, so his clothes probably cost more than his car. Every free moment he spent in a gym, so he had the body of a Greek god or even better. He was smart and sometimes too full of himself, but the right word to describe Sam was boring. Yes, he was boring. He was perfect, but Charlie felt with him as if she was still in school. She had to stop herself from yawning next to him all the time and telling the whole truth? He was as boring when they were intimate.

But if that was the cost she had to pay for a comfortable life in luxury and comfort, then she was willing to do it.

"We should totally do it." she smiled.

He did the same, clearly happy.

Moments in the car were the happiest moments of the day. She just felt safe there- away from people and whatever was out there.

She was standing in traffic as she tapped out the song from the radio. Charlie was looking out the window at children playing on the playground. They were smiling and shouted merrily. Her view was soon covered by a big tank. Fear that was asleep deep in her, was woken up again. The military was a reminder of what was happening in the world.

It was a completely normal view by now. Soldiers on the streets, walking around with guns that she would see just in pictures.

Her head moving to the tune of Need You Now by Lady Antebellum, eyes turned to somewhere else. She probably heard this song a hundredth time as it was one of the most played ones lately. She could bet that right after that she would hear Airplanes and then Love The Way You Lie.

But she didn't.

Instead, she heard the voice of a woman who was presenting news. "Epidemic update." she said."We're still not sure how many people are infected by a new mysterious virus. Worldwide Health Organization is still not sure about the number of sick and scientists from around the world are working hard to finally answer all the questions." she said. "They don't know what caused the virus or how to cure it."

"Great." Charlie mumbled.

"For now we know that you can get infected by bit or scratch, so please go somewhere safe." said the woman."Every bigger city, but mostly state cities is being fortified and supported by the military. The safest place now is Atlanta, so please go there if you can."

"Please don't," she said under her breath, looking in horror at the radio.

"Take your families and let's stay safe." the woman appealed.

Then from the speakers, she heard Rihanna singing and her phone lit up.

Mommy

we're leaving tonight. see you soon baby, i love you :*

It was another evening in her apartment, alone. Nothing showed that today was the day that the world went to shit. Officially.

There were no signs of her parents or brothers, which only made her more worried. Atlanta at this point was almost all overrun. The fear when it was just one walker in front of her window seemed like a joke now, when she was seeing whole herds of them. She might live high above the ground, but still, she heard them snarling.

Charlie was sitting on a windowsill with her phone to her ear.

"Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick..."

"Sorry. The number you're calling is..."

"Shut the fuck up for Goodness Sake." she clenched her teeth.

Her family was probably dead by now. She was waiting for them in her apartment and missed the perfect moment to run away.

Now she will die here and she will be walking around like those things below her. She bit her lip and tried not to sob. She had to be quiet just in case one of those things was on her floor. So she just closed her eyes and let hot tears run down her face.

She was woken up by the glass of her window shaking. Everything was shaking.

Charlie rubbed her eyes and blinked a couple of times to adjust her vision. She looked out of the windows and saw around three helicopters. She narrowed her eyes and stood up from the windowsill. When she realized what was going on, she dropped to the floor and shut her eyes tight.

Bomb.

It was enough to make the whole city go completely dead. Power went out, so now she was standing in front of her window and watching as Atlanta was drowning in the dark.

Charlie could probably stay just like that. In the darkness and silence. Alone.

But after the bombs, there came shooting. It was military bullets, not some cheap shit. She ducked down and crawled on the floor, praying that shattered glass was the worst thing that could happen to her.

Charlie didn't know for how long she was just lying there, watching the ceiling. Helicopters were gone and there was no shooting outside anymore.

It's not like hearing shotguns was something new these days.- she thought to herself.

Slowly she turned her head to the right and saw her ceiling lamp shattered on the floor. There were a lot of things on the floor, like for example framed photos, vases, and flowers. She examined the living room from her new perspective. Some bullets were stuck in the walls or some of the furniture, but at that moment she was glad that nothing damaged her doors as she heard scratching on the surface.

Her lip trembled as she heard snarling that she had become similar by now.

Charlie held her breath and just hopped for the best and the best in that case was that it would just shut up and go away, instead of bringing friends for a free meal. Again, she had no idea how long she was laying there before she made up her mind.

She had to leave.

Even if it was crazy and probably suicidal, she had to do something, because that would be better than just sitting around and basically waiting for death.

As quiet as she could be, Charlie tiptoed to her bedroom and pulled out the biggest bag that belonged to one of her brothers, while they were in military school.

She didn't have much time. She had to leave...at this point, she needed to leave.

After opening her closet the inner woman just came to life as she decided that she had nothing to wear. She was the owner of heels and elegant dresses and well, she was almost sure that those weren't the best choices for the apocalypse.

"Stupid dumb thing you are Charlie." she whispered to herself.

With a heavy sigh, she took off her pajama top, which stuck on something on her neck, but she didn't have time to check what was, so she just pulled stronger. Her wide flannel trousers followed shortly after. She replaced them with skinny jeans and a shirt that hugged her body. From the very bottom of her closet, she took a pair of shoes that wouldn't make her slip on something or she wouldn't sprain her ankle while running.

While she was dressed, it was time to finally pack her things. Three pairs of jeans, around twenty tops or T-shirts, as many panties and socks as she could take and stuff into the bag. What she also found useful was some of her shirts, so without blinking she put them in.

She tiptoed once again to the kitchen as everything from her bedroom was already taken. As she was passing her dinner table something caught her eye and made her halt.

"Son of a bitch." she cursed quietly.

Apparently, bullets weren't stuck just in her walls, because one of them was just chilling in the middle of the table.

"That was mahogany."

But she didn't have much time to think about her table, though. Snarling and slow steps right behind her doors reminded her that she had some things to take care of.

From the bathroom, she took her toothbrush and toothpaste because everything else seemed to not be that important. In the kitchen, she was looking for food that was canned or had a long expiration date. She couldn't take a lot either, because the bag would be too heavy and couldn't move - let alone run. She also grabbed some knives from her kitchen counter, because she was sure that she would need more than just one.

She came up to a shelf in her living room and picked up a belt with a big, military/survival-type knife - present from her brothers. The only thing that wasn't really necessary was a photo of her and her brothers and other of her parents. She just wanted to have them.

Charlie stood up and looked around her, checking if she had everything she needed. As she was doing that she looked out of the window and a plan came up to her head, maybe she wasn't exactly stuck in here. If she would make it, she would be able to at least leave the building. She would worry about the next step if step one will work out.

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