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#caused him severe psychological distress

dotieeee · 10 months

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A Small Token of Devotion

Part 3 of A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK three-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, psychological torture, non-con/dub-con kissing and touching etc, 18+ only!! Please read: this has DUB-CON with NON-CON elements, read at your own risk :), rough smutty SMUT, probably the filthiest I have ever written,

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Officially now a three-part series!!! Masterlist here

Part 1: Click here

Part 2: Click here

Summary: You're still being held against your will by the King Of Dreams, who offers you a deal that you find too good to be true, but are too desperate to refuse.

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful. After the kiss Dream had stolen in that hallway, he had kept his hands to himself and was seemingly content with watching you eat. And, boy, did you pack it in. You were never hungry while he kept you in your prison, but you had missed it so much that you abandoned all inhibition and ate almost everything within your reach. Fuck if he was observing every move you made – the food was unlike anything you've tasted, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Morpheus had escorted you by the hand to the library after, where you were formally introduced to Lucienne, his librarian, who was gracious enough to show you around. He had to leave you in her care while he went away for his duties, and with that, you couldn't be happier – any time away from him was a much-needed respite. Like a madman, you combed through the shelves for your parents' books once Lucienne explained that every dreamer to have existed had one that recorded their dreams. You came up empty-handed, however, so you decided to enlist her help.

"I'm afraid Lord Morpheus has forbidden you access to those books, my lady," she said, eyeing you empathically. "He has not divulged the reason, but it is likely to protect you."

Or likely to sever your connection to the Waking World even further.

You were put out by this, of course. You've been missing your parents terribly since you moved out, even more worried now that they probably realised you'd gone missing for who knows how long. But you weren't about to squander this rare instance of being out of your enclosure by moping. Instead, you found the softest, most comfortable couch in the library and continued reading The Wrongs of a Woman, determined to enjoy this new-found – and possibly short-lived – freedom. You had gone through four chapters, however, but you couldn't seem to concentrate, so you put down the book, thinking it deserved more than a half-hearted reading. You had a plethora of human knowledge at your disposal, and all you could think of was him.

He’d be more than pleased if he’d ever find out.

But Morpheus was away, so if you could learn more about him and his nature, maybe you’d be able to somehow use that to your advantage, eventually. Lucienne was happy to lead you to a rather thin, small leatherbound book that contained knowledge of the Endless, written by a man who was once immortal, which in turn, led you to discover that there were actual immortal humans roaming the earth, and some are friendly with them and the lesser gods. Was Professor Gadling one of them? It wouldn't be too far-fetched, given he had addressed Morpheus by his name and had referred to him as a friend. If you weren't in such distress caused by him, you'd probably be having an existential crisis.

Instead, you had a different crisis at hand, and one in the form of an Endless whose powers you have yet to fully comprehend. You didn't even sit down; right before the bookshelf you plucked the book from, you dug into it at once.

You discovered that there were seven Endless siblings – anthropomorphic personifications – who governed their own realms: Destiny in his garden, Death in her Sunless Lands, Desire in their Threshold and their twin, Despair in her grey Room of Mirrors, and their youngest, Delirium in her realm Formless Chaos. Your interest was piqued further once you got back to the part of Dream of the Endless. While it was rather sparse, the unknown author did his best to jot down the Endless' powers, including crafting dreams, fantasies, and nightmares, and manipulating reality to an extent. The Endless kept endless secrets, it seemed, which was a wonder that the author had that much to write about and put in a book. According to the book, Morpheus went by so many names throughout the passage of time.

"'The Prince of Stories,' huh…" you muttered to yourself. Maybe that was why he appreciated your writing.

"I'm quite flattered you are trying to get to know me, my beloved, but you could've just asked."

The amused voice made you turn on your heels, only to come face to face with the Endless himself looking down on you with a teasing grin merely inches away from you. You did your best to keep your cheeks from heating up at the closeness and stared at a spot on his collar instead.

"Sorry," you muttered. "It's just…it's a nice moniker."

"Is it?" He dipped his head lower, hovering over your ears, and whispered languidly, "Then, would you allow this prince's mouth to carve stories on your skin?"

To prevent any thoughts of getting away, he placed his hands firmly on the shelf behind you and trapped you between his arms. You stood perfectly still, but you shivered visibly when one of his hands started stroking your spine and the laced ribbon at the back of your dress. Those lips then ghosted over your neck.

"We have been apart for not more than half a day and I already miss you," he whispered in the most dulcet of tones against your skin, leaving goosebumps all over your arm. "Surely you know how you have bewitched me, and I am nothing short of spellbound…"

Then he growled just as those lips touched your skin. You haven't done anything wrong!

"Forgive me, my beloved, I am being called somewhere else." He said as he pulled away. You could tell by his furrowed brows and curled lip that he was annoyed at the interruption. "You are to stay here in the library until I come and fetch you. I need not warn you: any attempt to escape is futile and will be dealt with harshly."

You managed to let out the breath you were holding in when he disappeared with his sand. You could see from the windows that the sky had darkened, immediately followed by a resounding clap of thunder. Despite his threat, you were extremely grateful to anyone and anything that called him at that very moment, even if that meant they would be facing an irate King in the process. Besides, where else did he think you'd escape to?

***

Dream had been fuming when he arrived at the disturbance. His foul mood had inadvertently summoned a thunderstorm that flooded the basements of half the townsfolk in the process, which exacerbated the issue he had been called for: a farmer had poured an entire vat of untested growth potion on a pumpkin patch, which grew at an alarming rate the moment the brew hit the soil. The heavy rains that the thunderstorm had brought made the plant even happier, which in turn started to produce elephant-sized pumpkins within seconds. Dream had to reel in his emotions to prevent these giant pumpkins from taking over fourteen acres of land, which took a great amount of his time. By the time the situation had been under control, Dream was soaking wet, positively irked, and achingly longing to be back with you. The farmer and the owner of the apothecary who had sold the potion had to endure quite an earful from him, and they deserved every venomous word of it, for taking his time away from you.

It was dark when Morpheus reappeared at the library. Had you gone off to sleep without him? The thought made his heart sink; he had not meant to threaten you just before he left, although he admittedly would punish you if you dared wander off with the intention of running away from him – he could not have that, of course. He scoured the library shelves for you, already fearing the worst, but just as his anger started resurfacing, he found a sight that immediately calmed his inner turmoil:

There you were, on a couch just beside the spot where he had left you earlier, fast asleep with a book spread on your chest.

You had waited for him.

Slowly he made his approach, careful not to rouse you, and softly kissed your forehead. He took the book from your grasp, surprised that it was the same book he had caught you reading. You were reading about him, and that elated him to no end, even if it was a little dampened at the fact that he found the book opened on the page about his golden-eyed, meddlesome little sibling. He tossed the book to the table, then proceeded to carry you like his bride (and he knows you will be, very soon) to his bedroom, and laid you on the soft silken sheets that covered his bed. You had not stirred the entire time, perhaps savouring the only soft surface you had laid on since your stay in his realm. He decided he liked the look of you laying on your side, curled up on his bed very much.

You needed to accept him soon so he could have you on it anytime he pleased.

On impulse, Morpheus went inside your head and combed through every single memory you had. He was only getting to know you further, just like what you did reading the book that contained knowledge of him. You were eventually going to be his wife, and what kind of husband would he be if he did not make an effort to familiarise himself with his future bride's innermost thoughts and desires?

Satisfied with what he witnessed, Dream sighed in relief as he gently laid down beside you. He was tired – of course, he needed to rest, and it was his bed. He craved warmth, too, and your body just happened to be a great source of it, so he drew closer to you, his chest touching your back, and snaked an arm from behind you, wrapping it around your sleeping form. He dared not close his eyes, for he feared you would tear away from him as soon as he did. There, he laid still, perfectly content, for hours.

There was nowhere else he would rather be.

***

The first thing you became aware of when you came to wasn't the softness of the bed you were laying on, but an unyielding arm around your waist and a firm body pressed snugly against your back, purring happily like a large cat.

He seemed to notice that you'd woken up too, for he started dragging his nose from your head to your hair and inhaling your scent deeply. Recognizing how precarious your situation was, you tried to even your breathing out and pretend you were still sleeping, silently praying to anyone who would listen that he buys the act and loses interest.

Then that damn hand moved slowly downwards, then started hiking up your dress all the way to your thighs.

No such luck.

Still, you had to try. You held up pretty well, even as he turned you on your back and proceeded to straddle your hips. You tried your best not to twitch while he gripped your chin to turn your head to the side and a hot tongue licked your cheek. You squirmed slightly just as his mouth found your pulse point and sucked your skin heavily. You whimpered a little while he dragged his hands all over your still-clothed body and you felt him shift slightly.

But you drew a line when you felt him part your legs and settle between them.

You opened your eyes with a startled yelp and flailed your arms wildly, hitting his chest, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, deep chuckling as he did so.

"I see you have decided to forgo the act, my little saviour. As impressive as it was, I could hear and feel your heartbeat. You could never fool me."

You look up to those intense, dark blue eyes and those lips, curled upward in a malicious grin. True enough, your heart was racing and your breathing had quickened, but you tried your hardest to wrench your hands from his grip. It didn't work.

"Please, g-get o-off me…" you started begging.

But Dream merely hummed as his body inched closer to yours. Your terror only amplified when you felt something hard brush over the mound between your legs. You were still clothed, thank goodness, but your dress had been dragged so far up your legs you could feel the cold air on your inner thighs. Egged on by how you reacted, his hips pushed further against you, and you watched his eyes shift into black for a split second before they became blue again.

Of course, the bastard was enjoying this.

As deeply disturbed as you were, you felt a hot wetness gush between your legs, and you started to ache the slightest. And judging by his widened smirk, he knew.

"Do you find me unattractive?" He asked.

"What?" You were a bit surprised by how casual his tone was. "No, of course, you're…aesthetically pleasing… "

"Then why do you refuse me so?"

"I just don't want to, okay?" You burst out. "I don't have to justify my choice, least of all to you. Now, please!"

Halting his movement altogether, he donned a look of contemplation. "Have you laid with anyone?"

A blush started creeping up your cheeks at his question, so you pointedly avoided his stare. "Why the hell would I tell you that?!"

He tutted and said, "My little saviour, this is an open conversation that lovers usually partake in prior to being intimate." He firmly gripped your chin to turn your head and force you to look at him, his expression now serious.

"Now I ask again: has anyone laid claim on you?"

You gave a small nod, next thing you knew was a firm hand around your throat, squeezing it just enough to make you start gasping for air.

"You lie." Dream's eyes were blazing and his teeth were bared in a furious snarl.

He was right – you had lied on impulse. To your defence, you did it only in the hopes of him being disgusted that you weren't as pure as he thought. The truth was, while you had the occasional fling here and there, none of them ever progressed to anything sexual. And he knew, for some reason. You couldn't get his hand off your throat, for he still had yours pinned above your head.

"Morpheus, please…" you choked.

He said through gritted teeth, "Lie to me again and I will personally torment every single one of your past flames with nightmares until their death."

Tears started to stream through your eyes, and it was getting more difficult to say a single word as you struggled to breathe.

"Please…I-I'm s-sorry…" you managed to let out.

You gulped greedily for air as soon as he eased the pressure, but his hand remained around your neck, and it was evident that he was still unappeased. You didn't give a damn, however; you were now crying in earnest and genuinely frightened of him even more so than the nightmare you'd seen him transform into.

"I know everything about you. I combed through every thought, every repressed memory, every dream and every nightmare."

Then, what was the point of asking, you thought. You could've said it aloud too, but you were far too scared out of your wits to even stop your tears from flowing freely.

He must've acknowledged your distress, for he slowly released your throat and gently wiped your cheek with his finger.

"I am already aware of your purity. I merely asked because I trusted you enough to tell me the truth, as lovers should," he said softly as he continued stroking your cheek, perhaps to ease your discomfort.

"Fuck you, we're not lovers," you summoned the courage to whisper as your sobs died down. Fear was overtaken by irrational anger – you were fed up with his bullshit. You looked him in the eye with all the disdain you could muster as you whispered, "You think I could love you when you keep torturing me just so you could have your way? I will never accept you."

And honestly, you didn't know what scared you more: the nightmarish being with madness contorted in its features, or the stoic, oddly-calm Nightmare King pinning you down with eyes you could no longer read.

"Still as obstinate as ever, I see."

In a swift move, he removed himself from you and vanished. Before you could relish the freedom, you sat up when you felt grains of sand cloud your vision, and your entire surroundings faded to black. Within seconds, there was nothing more you could see, and everything was enveloped in darkness, including the bed you were on.

You simply floated in the vast nothingness.

"Allow me to remind you, my little saviour: I am the King of Dreams, and you are my prisoner." Your captor's voice echoed all around you, sending waves of panic through every cell in your body. Even the darkness paled in comparison to the fear his voice instilled.

"I have been patient, yet you insist on defying me. Perhaps, a reminder is due. It is time I showed you torture."

Then began the fall.

You fell into the endless darkness, unable to scream nor break the descent. You fell at an increasingly faster pace into nothing, weightless, your heart racing and your skin being blasted by the cold. Just when you thought you were going to pass out, you land safely, feet-first, like the fall never happened, and in a place that looked so achingly familiar.

You were in your parents' kitchen.

You have not been in this kitchen in a long time, but it looked as similar as the day you left. It was a bittersweet farewell, that day, you, your mom and dad celebrating your new job and telling each other you'd call and visit whenever you can. On the fridge door, you recognized the drawings being held in place by those little vegetable magnets – you made them when you were little, and since then, they have refused to remove them. They've always been proud of you, they said, as you packed your bags to head for your apartment and live your own life the way you wanted it. You didn't know until then just how much you needed to hear it from them.

A pained sob interrupted your reminiscing. It came from the dining room, so you made your way inside, your footsteps not making a single sound on the hardwood floor.

"Mom? Dad?" You called out.

Your mom sat on the end of the dining table, hunched over and visibly shaking, as your dad sat opposite her and quietly held both her hands. Behind the both of them, hung on the wall, was this large abstract painting you didn't care much about as a child but have grown to like as a teen. It didn't escape your notice that the table was strewn over with papers. You picked one up against your better judgement.

It was a photo of you taken the night you took them out to dinner with your first paycheck. Right on top of your picture were the words, printed in large, bold letters:

'MISSING.'

You put it back down at once, not bothering to read the rest. You were back! Did they not hear you?

Your mom let out a wail that would break anyone's heart. Your dad stood to hold her in his arms. He too, had tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort his wife as he nursed his own grief.

"I-I just w-want my b-baby back," your mom cried out in between sobs as she held onto your dad as if her life depended on it. "My po-oor baby, my sweet little girl, I want her back, Harold. Please, God, bring her back to me…"

"I'm here, I'm back!" You said, louder this time. Perhaps they didn't hear you.

She buried her face in your dad's shirt, and he kissed the top of her head. It did nothing to soothe her.

"We will, Martha, I promise," your dad said softly. "If we have to sell the house to continue finding her, we will. I'll sell everything we have, we'll sleep in the car, it doesn't matter."

Your mom nodded her head and gulped before she replied "I just miss her so much…"

"I do, too, honey. Every damn day.”

“This is my fault. This is all my fault, I let her leave,” your mom rambled on. “I could’ve stopped her, but I didn’t. I failed her –”

“No, you didn’t. If anything, it was my fault. But we will find her, and then we'll apologise, yes?" Your dad cupped our mom's cheeks and brought his forehead to hers. "We'll tell her every minute of every day just how much we miss her, and we'll never let her feel alone or unloved until our last breath, you hear me?"

Your mom managed a nod before she broke once more into agonised tears.

"But, I'm here!" You had tears streaming from your eyes as you screamed. They were falling apart without you, but you were back. You came back!

"I'm right fucking here!" You took a step forward so you could give them both a hug and assure them that you'll never leave their side again, but something in the painting behind them moved, making you halt your steps.

It was a pair of ocean-blue eyes that blinked, now staring into your soul, spanning the width of the entire painting – the last thing you see before the hardwood floor gave out beneath your feet and fell, once more, into the abyss.

You woke up with a start, sitting up almost at once, as you tried to calm your heart's incessant beating and relive the cause: it was a nightmare – one of many – of grief you couldn't understand, followed by an irrational fear of a pair of beautiful, ocean-blue eyes, before you were thrown into a pit of darkness with nothing to break your fall.

It was quite humorous in hindsight, given that you've lived many millennia in the most terrifying place in Creation, and one too, that countless souls dread ending up in the most.

The crackling of Hellfire in your cramped enclosure proved almost comforting, even if it was always so close to licking your skin. It provided almost ample protection against the bitter cold that seemed to seep into your bones, but you have learned to live with the stark contrast both provided. Better than being thrown directly onto the mass of hideous, mangled writhing demons at the pit of Morningstar's court. The cold, you could live with; the torture and the screaming, maybe not so much.

You stood from the jagged surface of the cave just as you felt the air around you shift. It hadn't been caused by that dreadful demon that had just passed your door, but by a powerful presence you had not felt in aeons, and which you’d never thought you’d ever feel again.

True enough, it was him: he walked right before your enclosure adorned with those large, thorny branches trapping you in and sealing your fate:

“Kai’ckul?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, even after he stopped in his tracks the moment you called for him out loud. You were breathing heavily, now, as you walked up to your barred entrance to get a better look at him.

“Dream Lord?” You called again.

You could not help the gasp you let out the moment he acknowledged your call and faced you. He had the same brown eyes that conveyed a thousand emotions in a single flash, those thick locks you had once caressed with your fingertips, those soft, full lips you had once kissed with all the passion your mortal heart could muster…

“It is you…” you said with awe in your voice. He was just as beautiful as the day he sent you to your eternal damnation.

“I greet you, Nada.” He responded softly with that velvety voice that had once whispered such amorous words in ears the night you both gave in to your earthly desires. Yet, today, it was sombre – melancholic, even. What could have brought him here after so long? Perhaps, you dared hope, he’d come to say he had changed his mind? Has he come to finally release you from your endless torment, like you have dreamed he would for countless cold nights in your prison cell?

“Kai’ckul,” you said, your voice and the tears that brimmed your eyes betraying that little bit of joy that blossomed from seeing him again. Your beautiful king. “How I have prayed for this day. I knew you would come.”

With a doleful expression, he stated, “It pains me to see you like this.”

Does it? “Then, free me, Lord.” Your tears finally fell down your cheeks. All those words you had imagined yourself saying to him, some of them hurtful, some of them outright offensive — all of them erased by the weariness of carrying out his righteous punishment. “Only your forgiveness can free me.”

But he had no response, only a tightening of those lips, his eyes growing more guarded and unyielding.

“Do you not still love me?” You asked. Perhaps if he still did, he would be merciful?

"It has been ten thousand years, Nada."

Yes, it has been. An awfully, excruciatingly long time and a reminder wasn't needed.

"Yes, I still love you."

Hope blossomed in your heart at his words, but it was just as soon dampened by his next.

"But I have not yet forgiven you."

You looked away just as more tears started to flow. Even after those years, his heart was as cold and unrelenting as ever. Yours, however, remained steadfast, despite the continuous onslaught of coldness and hostility he and this place had for you, there was something else that helped keep your sanity and dignity intact.

He began to walk away and commanded his raven to follow. Your grip on your prison bars tightened as you called after him.

"Kai'ckul, I will not give up hope."

But he had gone too far away for you to hear his footfalls.

"I will never give up!" But was that meant for him or for you?

Your voice broke at your statement, and so do the sobs. You sank into the chilly, uneven surface of your enclosure and hugged yourself, seeking some sort of comfort. Your heart refused to be crushed. Ten more millennia could pass, and you'd still have hope that one day, you will walk on soft, warm grass and breathe fresh, sulphur-free air, and you'd travel hand in hand with Death to ferry you to your peace. You'd forgive him wholeheartedly, should he seek it from you. You loved him.

So, how come the moment you closed your eyes to rest, only one foreign thought crossed your mind and reverberated in your heart?

You don't love him and you never will.

***

Dream never tore his onyx eyes away from you when the nightmares began.

He was admittedly livid. You had dared lie to him in the face and once again refused his advances; on top of that, you had dared insinuate that he had hurt you? He would not have it. He could never hurt you, much less torture you – but he also was not above showing you what could happen to you should you go on defying him like so.

He had not meant to show you Nada's predicament, truth be told. It was a last-minute decision, but he had not in his entire Endless life encountered such blatant, insulting refusal. The venomous words you had uttered to him on his bed would have garnered a far more agonising punishment than he had given his former lover, if it had not been for the fact that it was your kindness that had once helped save him from an aimless existence. Your words felt like a slap to his face, sure, but he knew you did not deserve such a cruel sentence.

By the end of the nightmare, you had been writhing on his bed, as if in pain, and crying profusely. You were muttering in your slumber, calling out for your parents in despair. He gradually allowed the effects of the nightmare to wane to let you breathe and he knew you were drifting in and out of sleep, even though you had not realised.

"I'm sorry, Mom and Dad," he heard you whisper, half-awake, clutching the sheets beneath you and weeping softly. "I couldn't be a better daughter. I miss you guys so much. I wish I hadn't moved out so soon…if I stayed, I would still be with you and I wouldn't be here…"

Then you proceeded to toss to your side and curl into a foetal position, hugging your knees in want of comfort.

Dream's heart ached at the sight. How could it not? Despite your continued rejection of him, he truly loved you enough for him to feel your pain on a physical level. Deciding to put an end to your suffering, he approached your trembling body and planted a kiss on your head, and took away with him the effects of the potent nightmare he had given you. He had had enough, and the way your sobbing ceased and your breathing evened out gave him some sort of relief. He then replaced the nightmares with fond memories of your parents and even crafted a dream where you were once more back to your old job, writing what you pleased.

As he sat on the edge of the mattress and stroked your hair, his thoughts drifted to your parents. Although they had raised you the best they could, he could not help but criticise the way they initially pressured you into excellence the moment you showed potential. Not that he was a perfect parent, himself; his own son perished and he had a hand in it somehow. Loathe as he was to admit, your mother and father loved you with all their hearts and had been severely affected by your disappearance. He knew about their tireless efforts of trying to locate you, as futile as it may be. If you had been amenable to a proper courtship and accepted his initial offer, he would've introduced himself to them and formally asked them for your hand, but he brushed that thought aside. There was no point dwelling on what could have been.

You needed rest from the lingering effects of the nightmares. He had no regrets showing you that dream of your parents, even if he hated your reaction to it. Content with the punishment he gave you, he went off to work.

He had a proposal to plan, and a wayward sibling to visit.

***

You were still shaking slightly as you climbed the stairs leading to a balcony far up the castle, just like the note you had found on the nightstand instructed when you woke. It was an after-effect of the nightmares you had last night, you suspected. Your attendant, who was leading you to the designated meeting place, had even taken pity on you and allowed you to wear flats instead of the heels that the dress you were supposed to wear came with. Your legs almost gave way as soon as you arrived and saw him.

Your jailer and tormentor.

Dream of the Endless sat on a round table filled with an assortment of breakfast pastries in a basket, leaning comfortably on his straight-backed wrought-iron chair. His gaze was far away into the view the balcony provided, but his eyes shifted as soon as your attendant announced your arrival.

You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you sat on the only remaining chair, and you could feel those intense blues bore right into your soul. A memory of them blinking on an abstract painting made you shudder inwardly.

"Eat, my beloved," he commanded. "We are to discuss an important matter when you finish."

Your attendant poured coffee into your cup and promptly placed herself inconspicuously on the corner, likely anticipating the needs of her king. Wordlessly, you picked up your cutlery and began to eat, even if you had absolutely no appetite. You picked a danish, purposefully avoiding the baguette on the basket and even giving it a glare like it was its fault you landed in this predicament. Instead tried to enjoy the coffee, which admittedly, was a thousand times better than any coffee you had ever tasted in the Waking. He watched you the entire time, his kingly posture only shifting once you put down your knife and fork and pushed your plate away.

On cue, the attendant took the plates and the bread basket away, leaving your cup of coffee, and disappeared for good. You waited with bated breath for whatever he had to say.

"Next time you wish to cry 'torture,' remember that I have been nothing but gracious and merciful despite your continued defiance."

Ah, so he was still bitter about what you said last night.

"Nada." You blurted out, totally unprompted. Morpheus narrowed his eyes a little at the mention of the name.

"What about her?"

You squirmed in your seat at his biting tone. But he was the one who showed you the dream – you had the right to know.

"What did you do to her?"

"What I refuse to do with you: sentence you to Hell for defying me."

Curt as his response was, it chilled you to the bone. He sent a woman to that horrible place just because she rejected him?

"And my parents?" Your voice almost broke at the question, as memories of them grieving over your disappearance flooded your mind. "Why would you show me all of that?"

"I take it you miss your parents."

"Was that dream real?" You asked, your voice solemn. "Did it…did it really happen?"

"Yes."

They were losing the house just so they could keep searching for you. The thought of them homeless, sleeping on the streets in the bitter cold, made tears gather at the corner of your eyes and spill. You couldn't control them any longer, because you knew, no matter what they did, they would never find you.

"Their determination to find their beloved daughter is admirable. It is such a pity their search is futile," he said, mirroring your thoughts.

Amidst your tears, you shot him a reproachful look at the way he rubbed your mother and father's predicament on your face. You quietly wiped them away with your knuckles as you watched a ghost of a grin appear on his lips.

Jackass.

"Which is why I have decided to release you back into the Waking World."

His words made you stare at him in disbelief. It couldn’t be, perhaps you misheard him.

“I will allow your return to the Waking, to your parents, and to your old life,” he repeated, perhaps for your sake.

You blinked at him, twice, to make sure you weren't hearing things. He made no move to correct his words, but knowing him, anything he offered you came at a price that could very well cost you your soul.

"Why would you do that?" You asked slowly.

His smile grew to a smirk – this was an offer you already knew you wouldn't like. He straightened his posture and spoke with all the authority a king such as him could possess.

"Because you will marry me," he said with conviction. "You and I will be wed and you will wear a ring to symbolise your devotion to me as my wife and my queen. If you submit to me fully – heart, body and soul – on the night of our wedding, I will arrange a new life for you: one where you live your old life in the Waking World during the day, and come home to me and fulfil your duties to me as my wife, and to my Kingdom as its queen, during the night."

Surely your brain has short-circuited – you gaped at him openly in your shock. He seemed to grow amused with your expression by the glint in his eyes, but you could also tell he was dead serious.

"Something I said, little saviour?"

You opened your mouth to speak, thinking you could easily say 'Yes, go fuck yourself, thank you very much,' but instead, you ended up with, "You're letting me go, seriously?"

He nodded once and firmly responded, "If you become my wife in every sense of the word, yes."

Realising you still had a bit of coffee in your cup, you downed the tepid liquid all in one gulp. You couldn't help but wonder if it was proper to ask for something a little stronger.

"But, how would that work?" You then asked, choosing your words carefully. "I'd be married to you, but then you'll let me go? I find that too good to be true."

"You will simply divide your time between my realm and the Waking."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will, my beloved," he said, his tone growing more amused with your increasingly suspicious expression. "But I assure you, it will not be any different compared to merely sleeping and waking."

You leaned back against your chair to stare at the blue sky and contemplate. He clearly has put a lot of thought into his offer, but there were other factors that needed to be addressed.

"I can't be a queen. I don't know anything about being one! I'm just a human, I have no royal blood, I have no training –"

He interrupted your rambling with an impatient flick of his hand. "Your stature matters not to me. You already possess the heart of a queen in my eyes. There is no one else I find more worthy."

He meant it as a compliment, but even that didn't ease your worries. "What would I tell them when I get back? I can't just go missing and then reappear as if nothing happened…"

You imagined there would be so many questions from so many people; where you've gone, why you left, how you got back – all of them posed challenging to formulate believable responses to.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you. "You have read the book, have you not? I can manipulate reality to an extent. I can make it so as if you never left the Waking. Your disappearance will seem but a nightmare to them, and one that they shall forget in time, as they do most dreams."

"And that is if…I willingly marry you."

Once more, he nodded. "I will, however, require nothing but complete surrender." This time, he leaned forward and placed his clasped hands on the table, continuing, "And, know this, my beloved: if there is but a small amount of unwillingness in your heart, I would know, and everything I offered will be forfeited. As such, you shall stay in my realm forever and will never be allowed to set foot in the Waking."

This made you raise your eyebrow back at him. He's really not leaving anything to chance. "What if I decline your offer?"

Surprisingly, he was rather nonchalant about it. He tilted his head slightly and said, "It is of no consequence to me, but you leave your world wanting of your presence. I, in turn, shall simply continue our…unconventional courtship."

You had no response to that. Everything he has so far offered you has been to his advantage, leaving you very much the disadvantaged party. Damned if you said yes, damned anyway if you didn't. You stared blankly at nothing, chewing the insides of your cheek in indecision. He must've taken pity on you, for he decided to break the silence.

"You need time to consider my proposal, I understand. I will leave you to it. I have duties to attend to for the day. In the meantime, you are free to roam the palace grounds. You need only seek me should you come to a decision."

He stood from his chair, straightening his coat, and approached your side. He bent down so he could whisper somberly close to your ear.

"Mind this, my beloved: the longer you tarry, the longer your parents suffer your absence."

You were about to come up with something to retort, but instead, you caught a mouthful of sand. He had disappeared, off to fuck-knows-where, and left you alone to make an important decision. Once you coughed out the last of the sand, you rubbed your face with your hand and groaned in frustration.

Returning to your parents, and to your old life, in exchange for marriage to none other than your captor. You’d be forever bound to him as his wife, and while you’d continue living the charade that would be your life back in the waking, you’d come to him by nightfall and he’d do with you as he pleased. And even if you refused his offer, he’d also likely do with you as he pleased. Every day, you’d pretend as if all was well in your world while being slapped repeatedly with a reality involving a husband that just might send you to the fiery pits on a mere whim.

If you refused, your mother and father would continue their fruitless search, ruining their lives and breaking their hearts forever in the process. They’d blame themselves for your disappearance until the end, unaware of your fate that this cosmic being has selfishly tied with his.

You fought the urge to vomit what little breakfast you ate with one thing on your mind: did he ever really give you a choice?

***

It was sundown in the Dreaming when you arrived before the massive doors of Dream’s throne room.

You’d been sauntering about aimlessly in his castle, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you reached these doors. On a regular day, your parents would be having tea at this time, your dad probably reading the paper for the fifth time, and your mom probably playing a jewel-matching game on her phone. Idle, comfortable, safe. You hoped they’d still be doing the same, but that would be wishful thinking.

That was precisely why you had made up your mind.

The doors opened without your prompting, which you took as a sign to step forward, heading straight to that tall, all-black-clad king standing at the foot of the stairs leading to his throne.

He had been waiting for you.

His eyes were burning in anticipation as soon as you got close enough to see. And those same eyes glowed with the stars it held, utterly victorious as you said ‘yes.’

Better you suffered forever than your own mother and father.

“What happens now?” you asked solemnly, trying not to feel thoroughly defeated. Morpheus approached you with an air of perverse delight as his eyes twinkled.

“I believe we are to be wed.”

Your heart began to beat faster at the realisation. “What, like, now?”

“Yes, my beloved,” he dipped his head closer to yours as he breathed, his eyes half-lidded and focused only on you. “At this very moment, we can be wed, right here. We need only utter our vows to each other, as husband and wife, and a witness, to make it official.”

Trying not to panic and failing hard, you stammered, “W-wait, I thought there were preparations, like an officiator – “

“We have no need for an officiator,” he interrupted. “I answer to no authority but my own. Matthew,” he called the name louder, and the sound of flapping wings echoed in the throne room, followed by a raven landing on the floor before the both of you.

“You called, sir?”

You blinked twice to make sure that you hadn't gone mad. Did Matthew the Raven just speak?

“Call for Lucienne,” he told Matthew, like a talking raven was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was; you were in the Dreaming, after all, where anything is possible, including marriage to a cosmic being that ripped you from a life that you belatedly realised you actually liked. “Tell her it is for an urgent matter.”

"I know you," you addressed the raven, whose attention immediately was on you. "You pecked at my gla – "

"My beloved, this is Matthew, my raven," Dream cut you off again, this time, with just a little hint of impatience in his voice. Dream curtly introduced you to the raven, who promptly ruffled his feathers and dipped his head at you in a polite bow. "Formal introductions can be made later. Go, Matthew."

"On my way, boss. Nice to meet you, my lady, and congratulations!" Matthew once again bowed at the both of you, and you watched him as he took flight and disappeared.

A cold hand laced around yours, and you turned to see him bring it close to his lips to kiss your knuckles, all while staring intensely into your eyes. Like ice-cold water being splashed right in your face, it hit you: this cold, cruel, hungry eldritch nightmare was going to be your husband pretty soon.

Maybe you could run fast, and maybe when you do you'd run into a portal that'll take you back to your world and he won't be able to catch you…

But the pained faces of your parents stopped you from taking your hand away and heading for the hills.

The doors swung open, revealing Lucienne, who strode to her king with a worried look on her face. She sent a curious look at your still-linked hands before addressing her king.

"My lord, is something the matter?"

"Nothing so worrying, Lucienne," he replied in a lilting tone. "I called to ask you this: will you, and in addition, Matthew, grant us this honour of bearing witness to our vows of marriage?"

Lucienne's expression changed from worry to surprise, adjusting her glasses as she clarified, "Sir? You're getting married? Right now? I mean, congratulations are in order, and to you, and my lady," she dipped her head in a small bow at you, which you returned with a shy grimace. "But may I ask why you would settle for such a humble ceremony? Shouldn't there be a feast, a gathering of representatives from all the other realms?"

Morpheus made a point of using your hand to pull you closer to his side with a grin. "Make no mistake, Lucienne: I will not deny my kingdom, and all the realms in the universe, the honour of celebrating the new and rightful queen of the Dreaming, but the festivities are of lesser priority. Now, I have a beautiful bride before me." He turned to face you, lightly caressing your cheek with his fingers as he continued, "I loathe to keep her waiting."

Perhaps touched at his loving declaration, Lucienne placed her palm on her chest and smiled fondly at the display. "Of course, my lord. It would be the greatest honour."

"Yeah, boss, go get her!" Matthew cheered from the top of the arches in the ceiling.

Oh, he's almost got you, alright.

"Very well. We shall begin." He declared with finality. His eyes glowed silver for a split-second, just as you felt the clothes on your body shift: you peeked down to see that he had dressed you in a sleeveless, all-white satin gown hugging your every curve, tied at either shoulder with only a satin ribbon. By the way scanned your figure and nodded to himself appreciatively, you could tell he liked how it looked on you. Maybe he fancied how pure you looked in it.

When he's done with you, would you still be?

Morpheus clasped both your hands in his, his eyes solely on yours, as he kissed your left hand and whispered your name against it.

"Will you take me, Dream of the Endless, as your eternal husband? Do you pledge your trust, your devotion, your heart, and your soul to me?"

Do it for Mom and Dad, you repeated in your head over and over.

"I do," you responded faintly.

The throne room is dead silent, as both your witnesses seemed to be holding their breaths just as you were, but the eyes of your almost-husband screamed triumphantly as he released your hands and waved a finger. A silver ring, adorned with a ruby, appeared floating in your midst, which he then plucked from mid-air.

"Then you shall take this ring," he went on, as placed the ring on your finger. The jewel's blood-red colour faded to white the moment it touched your skin. "A symbol of my endless vow: that to you, I offer protection, loyalty, and love, until I am Endless no more. From this day forth, I claim you as my wife, and we are bound together until the end of days."

The ring now rested ominously on your finger, without a trace of red, and was the heaviest piece of jewellery you had ever worn. It felt as if it was burning your skin, even though it gave off no heat. It made you want to scream and tear your hair out.

Your husband's eyes now bore on yours with a dark, jubilant look, just as sinister as the ring he just used to bind you to him for eternity. An impatient-sounding squawk from above alerted you both to your witnesses' presence. Morpheus smirked in amusement despite the interruption.

"Matthew, would you care to do the honours?"

"Hell yeah!" Came his raven's response. "You may now kiss the bride, boss!"

As soon as the words were said, he cupped your cheeks and placed his lips on yours. It was soft, short, even loving, by normal human wedding standards, and then he let go, and proclaimed to the entire realm:

"We are now officially husband and wife, my precious little saviour."

He brought his forehead to yours, ignoring the way your lip trembled at his statement.

"I have been wanting this for so long."

The sound of clapping, wings flapping and cheering echoed in the throne room, just as his sand wrapped around your figure and took you somewhere hauntingly familiar. The sight of that massive bed in the dark, covered in silk midnight sheets, was enough to send your heartbeat soaring through the roof.

There was only one reason he could've brought you here.

You let out a startled gasp as a pair of cold hands fell on your shoulders. You turned around and backed as far away from the bed as you could, to find Morpheus standing where you were seconds ago, clad in a different, shorter robe with a tie around his waist. He seemed to have nothing else underneath.

"Have I startled you, my beloved wife?" He asked softly, his eyes shining in the dark and his silhouette glowing in the moonlight from the open balcony. He held out a pale hand and said, "Come to your husband."

Aside from bunching the fabric of your dress near your thighs, you made no move whatsoever.

"Come to me this instant."

His low, commanding tone sent warning signals, darkening the atmosphere of the room even further. You took a few tentative steps to where he was, stopping only when he was at arm's length. He, however, closed the distance, dipped his head to yours, and whispered, "Kiss me."

Using a finger, he traced your jawline slowly, down to your neck, lingering at your shoulder where the ribbon of your dress was. His touch immediately gave you goosebumps.

"Please," you whispered shakily. You wanted to beg for him to stop, but his lips were on yours even before you could formulate the words.

The kisses you previously shared with him paled in comparison. This was different: it was as if he longed to suck the soul out of you. His tongue chased yours, and he nipped at your lower lip when you refused to respond. His hands were on your waist and the back of your neck, preventing you from pulling away. You couldn't make a sound except the whimpering from the back of your throat, yet he drowned it all out by syphoning the air out of you. With a final peck on your swollen lips, he pulled away. As he did, you got a full glimpse of his eyes: half-lidded, dark, wanting; it terrified you to no end. Then he threw you off with his next order:

"Disrobe me."

You took ragged breaths as your hands crept up to the knot around his waist, but you were shaking so much you couldn't do anything to it. He held your hands steady and guided you, and the knot came off in no time. He then brought them to his chest, where the robe was slipping – that, too, came off, and there he was, your husband, totally bared before you. Heat spread on your cheeks as you stared pointedly at that sculpted chest, refusing to look anywhere else.

Morpheus hummed lowly as he brought his lips to your ear.

"Have you ever worshipped an all-powerful being? Let me show you how. On your knees for me, my love." He gripped your shoulders and pushed down lightly to encourage you. Your stomach churned as soon as you realised what he wanted you to do.

"Morpheus, please…" you begged as you tried to get those hands off you, but he wasn't having it.

"I command you to kneel before your king and husband," he growled.

You could feel the tears surfacing as you did what you were told, so you closed your eyes so they wouldn't. You were, after all, doing this for the people you loved. You'd be free after this night is over.

"Eyes on me, my wife."

So you opened them to find yourself face to face with a huge, fully erect cock – his hand cupped your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as if he was trying to soothe you.

It did nothing of the sort.

So you pleaded with him again.

"Please, Dream…I can't do this, please," was all your shaky voice could muster. But you found no pity in his eyes; just overwhelming desire.

"Yes, you can. Open your mouth, love."

The thumb that caressed your cheek made its way inside your mouth.

"You want your life back, yes?" He asked, as his thumb drew circles on your tongue. You nodded in response.

"Good." He smirked. "You will have to work for it. Now, I want my pretty wife's pretty little mouth wrapped around me."

So for the sake of your freedom, you swallowed that lump in your throat and allowed him to push his hard cock inside your mouth.

He tasted faintly sweet, faintly salty and musky. Above you, he groaned in satisfaction at the contact and bucked his hips to push his cock further. You closed your eyes, involuntary tears streaming down your face, as he reached your throat; he was too much, his size was more than what you could handle, and he wasn't even fully in.

A hand bunched your hair and tugged lightly.

"I said, eyes on me, wife," he commanded, his voice straining slightly in pleasure. "I want your full attention as I take your mouth."

So you looked up into those dark, lustful eyes, placed your hands on his thighs, and began to suck him off.

It was a slow pace at first, given you hadn't done anything like this before, but as you swirled your tongue around his thickness and felt it throb inside your mouth, something in you bubbled, making you rub your thighs together. He seemed to notice this, for his parted lips curled in a mischievous smile, and began to thrust forward as you bobbed your head downward to take him in.

"You're doing so well, my love…" he praised as you continued to suck and lick him.

Disgust filled you, but there was something else, too.

He was panting as he quicked his movements, and while he kept your head in place with both hands so he could take control of the pace, your eyes watered at his size and length. But, just as his cock throbbed more intensely and you felt him thicken inside your mouth, he pulled it out with a heavy groan, a trail of your saliva still connecting your tongue and its tip. He was probably close, too – not that you cared; you were thankful you didn't have to do it anymore.

Your husband helped you get to your feet, and he wiped the drool that coated your chin and the corners of your mouth. Just as you thought it was over, dread filled your heart once more as he whispered:

"Your mouth was a delight, my wife, but I would like my undoing to be inside you. Now, undress for me."

"Please, Morpheus, we don't have to do this," you tried to appeal. Of course, it was in vain.

"Our marriage isn't binding without proper consummation," he said, anger and impatience laced in his tone. "I will not ask again."

You could do nothing but choke back a sob as you hastily undid a ribbon on your dress, but his hand halted your fumbling. He looked down at you with a disapproving expression.

"Slowly, my love. I want to savour this."

So, like the obedient wife he wanted you to be, you pulled the ribbon inch by inch and undid the other side just as gradually. As soon as the ribbons unravelled, the satin dress pooled at your feet, taking away whatever protection you had left from his greedy eyes. You could hear the rumble from the back of Dream's throat as he hovered over your naked form. You were shivering from the cold Dreaming air coming from the open balcony, and from the way his eyes swept your body. Nobody has ever seen you so vulnerable.

A sob escaped from your lips, but it was completely ignored.

Pale fingers traced your body – he began on your collarbones, and made his way to your breasts, his thumb circling your nipples which pebbled at his touch. He then started stroking your waist while you continued to let your tears flow silently, before gripping your body and pulling it flush to his. You winced as you felt his erection press against your belly.

"Your beauty is staggering, my beloved," he praised.

The next thing you knew was your back hitting the soft sheets and him climbing above you.

You were in hysterics the moment you realised what was happening – you clawed at the chest that descended on your body and cried out in your despair, but strong hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them on your sides. You tilted your head so you could avoid seeing your husband's face, but in your blurry line of vision, all you could see was that damned ring on your finger, weighing you down as much as the torso sitting on top of you.

Morpheus brought his head closer with his breath fanning your exposed cheek, his ire palpable at your unacceptable behaviour.

"Remember our agreement, my little saviour. Or have you decided to eternally relinquish your life in the Waking and devote it all to me?"

You shook your head in denial, but the tears flowed freely. Gentle lips kissed them away, and you let them, as once more you were reminded what was at stake.

Just one night of this, and everything will be fine.

He pecked the corner of your lips before kissing you fully in the mouth, not caring that his cock was in it just a few moments ago. His hands roamed every part of your body he could reach. As his tongue lapped yours, he cupped your breasts and squeezed softly, and you moaned into his mouth and began kissing him back, albeit hesitantly. He pinched both your nipples at the same time, making you arch your back. It was mortifying, but damn, it felt good.

His heated, open-mouthed kisses moved to your jaw, then settled on your neck, finally biting and suckling your flesh – it hurt a little, but it was as if he longed to mark every part of you. Your skin crawled at the way his mouth moved downwards to your chest. You were breathing heavily now, both in terror and heightening desire. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when his mouth began suckling your breast and biting the nipple. Heat surged to both your cheeks and between your thighs, and you began to feel this bizarre need for more friction down there.

Maybe this could work, just drowning in pleasure like this. Never mind who it was coming from.

With an agonising pace, that damned mouth travelled down your belly, to your bosom, and reached that aching flesh. He then spread your legs and nestled between them, his eyes darkening when he saw just how much he had aroused you.

"You see, my beloved?" He said with a soft chuckle. "You crave this as much as I do."

You were probably red in the face now, having never been exposed to anyone else like this in your life. You tilted your head and closed your eyes in your shame. You weren't supposed to want this.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, my wife. Your body belongs to me. It is only right that I get acquainted with it."

He started kissing and biting down your inner thighs, marking them as his possession, but before you could adjust to this new-found pleasure, his hot breath was on your wet flesh and that mouth of his feasted.

His tongue parted your folds and then sucked on your clit, and he did this over and over, while you lay there, sprawled for him, panting heavily and mewling, gripping the sheets beneath you. He didn't mind that you weren't shaved, he ate and drank from you like a starved man, and your thighs automatically clenched him to keep him there. You writhed and moaned while that devilish mouth lapped up everything you could offer, and you could actually feel the tension building up in you like a coil, wanting to be released…

But then pulled away, leaving you winded and bewildered, while he looked down on you with a smug expression and the corner of his lips still glistening with your arousal.

"How can someone so pure taste so sinful?" He purred as he wiped his lower lip with his thumb. "I need you now, my precious little saviour. I have waited long enough."

His look darkened, immense hunger overtaking his features, as he descended on you once more and positioned himself between your spread legs. In an instant, the haziness of the pleasure was replaced by sheer panic, but by the time you reacted, he already had your wrists pinned above your head with a hand while he pushed your thighs even further apart with the other.

You knew what was at stake, but your resolve was at its weakest.

"Morpheus, please, please," you began to cry again. "I'll do anything else, I beg you…"

"Sshh, my beloved wife, sshh," he comforted you in a hushed tone as he drew closer to kiss your face repeatedly. He went on further, donning a sympathetic look. "Do you know what your parents dream of night after night? You, safe in their arms, loved and happy and wanting nothing. Do you truly wish for that to remain but a dream to them?"

You were in far too much distress to respond, but in your heart, you knew leaving them like that in the Waking would be a greater pain than what you would endure for this night. So, with great effort, you willed your tears to cease, which he seemed to take as a sign. Shifting slightly above you, he took his raging erection in his hand, placed it over your clit and dragged it a few times through your folds, before the tip landed on your untouched entrance. Letting go of your wrists, he cupped your face tenderly, and started pushing it in.

Nothing, not even that soft touch and that gentle shushing, could have prepared you for the pain you felt at the way his cock tore through your opening. You were petrified and in so much pain, the tears clouded your vision. Breathing shallowly, you could feel him push further into you, and your walls strained to accommodate him. He was impossibly huge, hot and pulsating, and every second he spent inside you was pure agony.

"Morpheus, please," you begged, fisting the sheets beneath you for elusive relief. "Please, it h-hurts, I-I can't – "

Your words were cut off by a searing kiss and a tongue that delved into yours, drowning out your cries of pain. He drank in everything, including your tears, his teeth scraping your lips as he tasted everything. He pulled away from the kiss with a groan; he now filled you to the brim, taking a great amount of pleasure from the way you wrapped around him. He stretched you to your limits while you keened from the effort of adjusting to his size.

"My wife, my love, hush," he murmured against the crook of your neck, planting soft butterfly kisses on the places he hadn't yet marked. "After the pain, will come the pleasure."

Morpheus stayed still, his forehead nuzzling your cheek, giving you time for the pain to fade. He took your hands and wrapped them around his form. You couldn't help squeezing his shoulders as you tried to relax, which he didn't object to.

From within you, he started to move. You could feel the friction as he pulled his cock out almost completely before putting it back in. You hissed and moaned in discomfort, but he went on at a slow pace. It didn't take long before you realised that the foreign feeling of being filled repeatedly to the brim was beginning to feel quite pleasurable, but that was nothing compared to a thrust that hit a certain spot in your core that sent you reeling in its intensity. Morpheus, who seemed delighted at the rather loud sound you made, grinned against your cheek and pulled away slightly, hovering over you, and began hitting that sweet spot again and again.

You threw your head back into the pillow, lost in the pleasure he gave, moaning wantonly as he increased his pace and the force of his thrusts. It was further amplified when he gripped your hips and pulled you to him as he filled you over and over, and in no time, your body began moving in sync with his as you sought more of it. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his cock without your control, you could tell that it gave him as much pleasure as it did you, for he started groaning your name over and over.

Was it supposed to be this delicious?

Soon, your movements became more insistent, and his more relentless; every part of you fired up as the pleasure heightened. You dug your nails on his back and you could feel your pulse drumming in your ears as he pounded your core. You were clenching him harder now, your flesh clinging onto his cock like your life depended on it.

With a harsh snap of his hips, you burst at the seams and unravelled; you came around his cock, screaming your husband's name, and all you could think of was his rock-hard cock forcefully hitting your sensitive walls. He too, came with a groan and your name on his lips, sending flashes of searing hot cum inside you and flooding your core with it. Your walls fluttered around the cock that was still shooting its load inside you, and your entire body shook as your orgasm took over every thought and every muscle.

It was pure bliss, and you soaked it all in.

It took a while for the high to fade, and a little longer for you to realise he was still on top of you, his cock was still hard and still inside you, and he was suckling the base of your neck and your shoulders. He's already left you bite marks all over your body, but even that wasn't enough for him, it seemed.

Resentment washed over you like cold water, but you didn't know whether it was for him or for yourself.

You let out a noise of complaint and used your palm to push at his chest. Perhaps he got the hint, for he pulled out and away from you with a final peck on your cheek. You rolled to your side as soon as he lifted off you, and your thighs inadvertently rubbed together. You were sore down there and so wet you didn't dare look, fearing you might lose your mind if you did.

Without warning, however, you were flipped to your stomach, with your husband pinning you down with his body draped all over you.

Against your ear, he whispered, "My beloved wife, you did so well. And you're going to take your husband again."

Terror welled in your heart. You were to have him inside you again, and you didn't know how much self-respect you were going to end up with if you so much as let out another embarrassing sound out of your mouth.

"Please, we already did it once – !"

Your protest was interrupted as soon as he dipped his head to your neck and bit your flesh, and with one thrust, his cock was once again lodged inside you from behind, earning a squeal from you and a sob.

He was hurting you again, and it had no right to feel this good.

"And we shall do so again, and again," he growled against your skin. "Until I'm sated. After all, you have denied me of your body for so long…"

He began thrusting into you without waiting for your body to adjust. He was rougher, hungrier, and more voracious than ever before, and the air in the room felt heavier than when he first took you.

As powerless as he made you feel since his capture of you, it was all the more evident now, and yet all that came out of you were shameless, loud moans and incoherent babbling. He hit that sweet spot over and over again with so much force, your body couldn't keep up with his pace, you laid still underneath him and let him have you.

"You will never deny me again, is that understood?"

You couldn't respond with so much as a curse – the onslaught of pleasure as he ravaged you made it almost impossible, but the rumble on his chest told you he wasn't happy with being ignored.

"Is that understood, wife?" He asked impatiently.

"Yes," you managed to let out. "Yes, Morpheus…"

He hummed in satisfaction from behind you. "All mine, all mine," he murmured, and began a pace that made you curl your toes and cry out. From behind you, he pounded into you, while your throbbing core tried its best clamping on his cock to chase that intoxicating high.

"Oh god," you cried out.

This earned a sharp yank of your hair from him. You could feel his anger envelop you and hear him growl at the back of his throat.

"Wrong," he whispered vehemently against your ear. He pulled out of you, and you whined at the absence of him inside you. "I will not have you scream another's name while I pleasure you, wife. Now, amend your mistake, or shall I take away that lovely voice of yours? It would be a shame, not hearing the music you make while I'm – " you screamed as he put his cock back inside you without warning – "buried deep inside you…"

Whether you angered him or not was of no consequence to you; the moment he continued ramming into your increasingly sensitive hole, you cried out his name, gripping the pillow in front of you with all your might just so you could take it. The ring on your finger was now completely ignored.

"Morpheus, I'm sorry, Morpheus…" you said repeatedly.

"Hmmm…that's my good girl, such an obedient wife…taking me so well…" he praised, holding your hips and bringing it to his.

His was unbridled lust, now making it known to you, and maybe even his entire realm, judging by how loud you were moaning.

"Please, please…" you begged. But for what? For him to stop? For him to go harder?

He chuckled behind you as his pace slowed down a little. "Does my little saviour want her release?"

You had tears streaming down your face in frustration. He was just torturing you at this point, but all you could do was nod as you tried to move to get more of that friction he provided. He tightened his grip on your hips to still you.

"Does my ravishing wife want her husband's seed dripping all over her thighs like the good wife she is?"

"Yes, Morpheus," you bawled. "I'm begging you, please…"

But he continued that infuriatingly controlled pace and made no move to speed it up. He whispered in your ear, "Say what you want, my little saviour and I shall give it."

"Please, Morpheus, make me come, please…"

"Good girl," he purred.

Morpheus happily obliged with your request. He rutted into you, making you throw your head back and move against him at his every thrust. He didn't like it, though; he gripped your hair again and smushed your face into the mattress, and lifted your hips in the air so he could get better access. His chambers were filled with your echoing screams and the rhythmic noise of sweaty slapping flesh trying to become one.

For him, this wasn't about making love anymore: this was primal, this was him marking you as his forever.

You were close – you could feel pleasure, so euphoric, thrumming within your body; your walls were now clenching him harder than ever, and every thrust of his sent jolts of electricity into your abdomen. So close, so close…

From behind you, he commanded, "Now, be a good wife and come for your husband."

And so you do; you came, so much harder than the first, screaming only your husband's name into the night. His thrusts became more erratic, his cock pulsed inside you, while your thighs quivered, your walls clamping down on him. With a thundering growl, he found his release, and sent ropes and ropes of his seed inside your walls, filling you up to the brim with it while you milked his cock for more. He whispered your name like a prayer against your hair, and bit down on your shoulder as he pumped the last of his cum within you.

It was ecstasy, dizzying and overwhelming.

As with all highs, however, came the lows, and for you, it couldn't get any lower: you were helpless, tired, and underneath a husband who was still inside you as you caught your breath and realised just how low you'd sunk.

"My love, you were exceptional," he said with a kiss on your shoulder, right on the spot that he bit when he came. Just as he pulled out of you, you felt some of his spend leak out, so buried your face in the pillow in absolute shame.

You did this to get some of your life back, but even the reminder didn't make it any easier.

You felt the bed move, and your husband shifted beside you.

"I am, however, nowhere near sated," he said with a smirk. "I am not done with you. Now, kindly get on your hands and knees for me, my good wife."

You could only whimper in protest at the way his insistent hand gave your ass cheek a good squeeze. He helped you get on all fours, then positioned himself behind you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit before plunging its entirety inside your aching walls with one forceful thrust.

Just this one night, you reminded yourself, then everything will be fine.

***

You were limp, sore, and exhausted beyond anything. After the seventh orgasm, you've lost count of how many more your husband had managed to force out of you, and your thighs were slick with the cum he had pumped inside you. Morpheus didn't seem to mind the mess you were making on his thighs as you sat on top of him with your legs spread to accommodate him and clung onto him with your arms around his neck, your aching body sprawled on his chest. The only thing anchoring you to your horrendous reality was the jolts of unwanted pleasure being sent into your core brought about by his ceaseless upwards thrusts, spreading all across your body and overstimulating all your nerve endings.

"One more for me, my beloved, you can take one more for your husband," he had kept saying.

When you orgasmed, it was rapture in almost every sense – you buried your face at the crook of his neck and blacked out for a few microseconds, only to be pulled back to consciousness by the warmth in your core courtesy of his spend inside you, and the mighty groan he let out as he, too, found his release. You actually cried softly in relief as he halted his movements.

It was over. It was over.

You thought you were going to end up sleeping in that position, but he rolled both of you over on the mattress and the pillows so gently, as if he had not just spent the entire night ruthlessly taking your virginity.

He manoeuvred you so you laid on top of him and you could hear him coo into your hair in a language that seemed familiar but you couldn't quite understand.

Whatever it was, it was oddly comforting, and along with being drained with every ounce of your energy, it was enough to lull you into sleep.

He didn't even have to use his sand.

***

You were jostled awake by fingers softly raking your hair.

As soon as your eyes opened, you were greeted warmly with ocean-blue eyes that held a multitude of galaxies. Despite waking up draped on top of a husband that you didn't really ask for, you had hope for the first time since he had spirited you to his realm. In just a few moments, you'd be back to work, just like nothing ever happened.

"Good morning, my precious little saviour," he greeted with a gentle smile.

Your lips moved, but it wasn't quite like the smile he had on. "H-hey," you greeted back as you placed your palm on his chest and pulled away as much as he allowed you to. "Uh, about our deal…"

"Hmm. What about it?" He asked idly, fluttering those enviably long eyelashes at you.

"I'm free now, right? You'll take me back to my world, and everything should be exactly as I left it."

You couldn't quite sit up, as he had his other arm around your back still trapping you to his naked body.

"Indeed," he hummed nonchalantly. "I gave you my word of returning you to the Waking in the condition that you give your heart to me fully and willingly."

You swallowed your nerves down, which were piqued for some reason. If he was playing around, he needed to quit it. Work started at nine, and you didn't really want to be late.

"And I did," you insisted. "Now, keep your promise and let me go."

There was a palpable tension as he let go of you and allowed you to finally pull away. You changed your mind about sitting up, fearing you'd pull a muscle with all the strain your body took from last night's activities. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and faced you with a sombre expression.

"I'm afraid you did not fulfil the terms of our agreement, my beloved."

Did you see this coming from a mile away? You should've, said that nagging voice at the back of your head. What else could you have missed?

"Yes, I did," you countered, your voice faltering a little. You sat up abruptly, regretting it the moment you did. All your muscles screamed in protest, and you winced at the sudden pain between your legs. Ignoring it, you continued, "I did…I did everything you asked. You said you'd free me if I did… all of this."

"And I would have," he replied, tucking a strand of your messed-up hair behind your ears. "Had you offered yourself unto me entirely. The ring on your finger shows otherwise."

He took your hand that held the ring just as soon as your eyes were on it. The white in it seemed to swirl ominously, and you didn't like the way it seemed to respond to the man who gave it to you.

"The jewel on this ring detects your heart's pure desire," he explained, his finger tracing the stone. "It was partly imbibed by my sibling's power, and partly mine. My sibling, Desire, agreed to make the ring with me, signifying a truce between us and our realms."

He kissed the back of your hand before he released it, and you took it back and nursed it as if he just stung you.

He simply went on, "Should your heart submit to me in absolution, the jewel would burn blood crimson. Alas, it has not shifted colours the entire night you laid with me."

This wasn't happening. This must be some sort of ploy to get you to stay, right?

"Now, I do not mind in the slightest, my love," he droned on, ignoring the fact that you were now frozen in place and in disbelief. "I have an eternity to win you. But as far as our agreement is concerned, I cannot let you leave."

He lowered his timbre at the last part of his sentence for emphasis.

"So all of this was for nothing?" You asked blankly and gestured at the mess of sheets on his bed.

This can't be happening.

"My love, if it wasn't for you, my sibling and I would still be in a disagreement." He cupped your cheeks in praise, flashing you a proud look. "This was essentially your first act as queen: bringing peace between the Dreaming and The Threshold."

You snapped out of your dazed trance and swatted those hands away. You had a deal and damned if he won't fulfil his end of the bargain. He must be playing mind games with you – that was the only plausible explanation.

"Enough of your games, Morpheus," you spat out. "I married you, I slept with you. You gave me your word. I demand that you take me back to my place!"

But Morpheus merely raised his eyebrow at your outburst.

"I believe you are in no position to demand anything."

"You took everything from me!" You screamed, now fully realising the shithole you've just dug yourself into. You agreed to this, and he tricked you, using your vulnerability to his advantage. The worst part of it was, he had you played right from the get-go. "I have nothing left! I had nothing going for me but your word, and now…a-and now…"

All that frustration you had for him and yourself had to be released, and you did it the way you knew: you burst into tears.

Your mom and dad. They'd never see you again.

The nightmare that called himself your husband gathered your shaking form in his arms and whispered words that were supposed to comfort you, but you struggled against him and hit his chest repeatedly. He drew your face to his chest by wrapping his hand around your head and planted kisses on your hair.

"You planned this, you evil fucking cunt, you tricked me," you yelled against his chest. "You can't keep me in here…please let me go…"

"What kind of husband would I be if I let my own wife roam the Waking and live in a condition clearly beneath her royal status? No, such squalor does not befit you. You deserve to be worshipped, and I shall, my queen, until I cease to be."

"Morpheus," you tried to implore. "Please just let me go…"

But his grip on you never wavered. "I will never release you," he growled against your hair. "You belong to me for eternity. Now, I grow tired of this petty argument."

With a swift movement, he laid you on your back, climbed on top of you, and placed a hand on your throat.

A warning.

Even with tears blurring your vision, you saw his expression quite clearly. Wanton hunger and obsession took over his features, his eyes darkening and bleeding to black, just like they did when he first invaded your life with that confession you had rejected.

"You, however, my lovely wife, I will never tire of…" he whispered darkly. "Exhausted and bruised from our previous love-making, filled to the brim and dripping with my seed… just how you always should be."

You could only watch, helpless and unable to move in fear, as he pinned your wrists with one hand above your head. He slipped two fingers inside your still-sensitive walls without breaking eye contact, and withdrew it, donning on a satisfied smirk. You pleaded with him as he parted your legs with his knees, but even you knew your begging would fall on deaf ears. He had taken everything from you, and he was about to take more – with a single thrust, he was inside you again, and with a groan of pleasure he buried his face at the crook of your neck, whispering only one word again and again:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

With every last bit of hope leaving your exhausted body and mind, for the first time since he imprisoned you, you started believing him.

***

Morpheus was in a state of utter ecstasy.

First, his plan had worked. He was aware that you weren't in the right state of mind to fully give your heart to him, let alone make the change overnight, and the ring he sought from his sibling as reparation for their past falling out had worked spectacularly, allowing you to walk right into his well-laden trap. You had given him no choice – it was a necessary move to finally seal your fate with him for eternity.

Second, he had himself fully sheathed inside your heat, drawing out all the pleasure he could derive from your union, and you underneath him writhing in the throes of passion with your moans and cries echoing in his chambers.

Third, he just had a glimpse of the ring on your hand, that token of your devotion to him, and him alone, which began glowing in the lightest, most imperceptible shades of pink.

His joy amplified at the sight. He captured your lips with his as he thrust wildly into your throbbing flesh – you, the precious little mortal that inadvertently saved him with but a small act of kindness, was now in his arms, his, and you had nowhere else to go.

********************************

Wasn't too satisfied with the ending, but please let me know what you think! This may have been the filthiest smut I have ever written, even if I have written only a handful of them lol

Also, forgive me if there were any errors, I shall edit this as soon as I can!

Tagging:

@morpheuss1mp

@alexander-arcturus-black

@typical-bistander

@ladyredstar1991

@moonmaiden1996

@musemaniac42

#dark!dream x reader #dark!dream x you #dark!morpheus fic #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!dream threeshot #dark!dream of the endless #dark!morpheus fanfic #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction #A Small Act of Kindness Series #A Small Act of Kindness Pt 3

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sleepyzenpanda · 4 months

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Wylan’s feelings about his father - Part 1: Denial

I didn’t set out to do a character analysis post when I started taking screenshots of my favorite parts of Crooked Kingdom, but here we are. Once I realized that many of the screenshots I took all revolve around a similar theme this just kind of happened. This will be the first in a series of posts analyzing how Wylan’s views on his father mistreatment of him evolve as events in the story unfold.

TW // this post contains discussions of emotional/psychological abuse and a brief reference to attempted murder of a fictional character. If reading about such topics causes you distress you may wish to skip this post. Please stay safe.

While I’m not a psychologist, I have a B.S. in Sociology and took courses that went in depth about family dynamics, abuse, and explored a bit of the psychology behind how abuse victims view their abusers. I’m basing my analysis on that as well as my personal experience. As person with dyslexia (and other learning disabilities) and who has trauma from a complex relationship with their emotionally abusive father, I relate to Wylan’s character a lot.

Towards the beginning of Crooked Kingdom, even though Wylan’s fathers attempt on his life forced him to go into hiding, which later resulted in him joining the Crows, it’s clear that Wylan is still concerned for his father’s wellbeing as he seems hesitant when Kaz brings up the possibility that his father could be executed. At this point in the story Wylan is shown to have complex feelings about about his father. His feelings seem more akin to hurt rather than anger or hatred.

Despite everything Jan Van Eck has done to him and his friends Wylan is still unable to see his father as evil. At this stage he is still tying to come up with other explanations for his father’s behavior.

When Jesper makes a joke about Wylan’s father Wylan still feels the need to come to his father’s defense stating that his father isn’t evil. Jesper argues that Wylan’s father tried to kill him when he destroyed the boat. He doesn’t even know about the previous attempt to have Wylan killed yet.

Even though this means that his father tried to have him killed twice he’s still unable to admit to himself the truth about his father. Even though logically he can acknowledge what his father has done he’s still unable to process what he’s been through and unable to admit the truth of his fathers abuse to himself as it’s too painful for him to face at the moment.

Wylan’s father’s abuse did a number on his self-esteem. He initially views himself as deserving of his father’s treatment of him due to his dyslexia. He thinks his father’s actions are justified because he can’t read.

This scene stood out to me for several reasons. As I previously mentioned I also have dyslexia. I also remember memorizing stories that were read to me and learning to repeat them to hide that I had trouble reading.

But it also stood out because Wylan is shown reminiscing about good memories with his father. He still longs for the days when his father still treated him with love. His father has lead him to believe that he is defective which makes him unworthy of the love he received from him as a young child.

When you’re a child of abuse, and yes emotional abuse IS abuse, it can be hard to reconcile the good memories of a loving parent with the reality of the parent’s abusive actions. At this point in the story Wylan is not at the point where he can accept that his father’s actions are indeed abuse.

—

That’s all for now. I will link the other posts below as they are posted. Due to work and life the analysis is coming along rather slowly, but I do plan on finishing it eventually. Once each part is completed it will be linked below:

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

#tw // abuse #tw // emotional abuse #wylan van eck #wylan hendriks #wylan van sunshine #six of crows #soc spoilers #shadow and bone #grishaverse #wesper #jesper fahey #wylan x jesper #jan van eck #character analysis

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starcrossedxwriter · 11 months

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Built for Love Part 10 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: Depictions of violence, trauma, lots of angst, recovery

A/N: ok this one is a longgggg doozy… gonna apologize in advance cause it is really just all angst lol BUT I'm hoping there's a treat in here that'll make y'all hate me less? lol maybe?? Enjoyyyyy!

It took everything in Charlotte physically and emotionally to drag herself to the theater the next day for opening night. She was physically exhausted, only sleeping in increments of 30 minutes or so before her own screams jolted her awake. Mentally, she was hanging on by a fraying thread. She had not felt this jumpy in so long, every unexpected noise causing her to look over her shoulder every five seconds, even in the comforts of her own home. But nothing was worse than the physical pain she was in. The bruise on her side was far worse without the adrenaline of the night before pumping through her veins. The cry of pain she let out when she first moved that morning sounded more like a dying animal than a person.

The entire drive she dreaded the facade she’d have to wear all day. She did not know how she did this years ago, mustering up her last kernel of strength to plaster a stupid fake smile on her face. Perhaps because back then, it was a means of survival and this situation was caused by her own hubris. She wanted to fight, she wanted to do this her way, but this path was lonely and more difficult than she thought. And reality was sinking in fast that she was, perhaps, not strong enough to deal with him alone this time.

She did not regret staying, that was the right decision. But she just wished Michael was here. She wanted him here, not to do anything, but just to fold her up in his soft embrace. He was the epitome of safety and she severely underestimated how alone she would feel without him here, even just for a few days. She was balancing on a tightrope and the bungee cord that secured her was nowhere to be found. She already made one wrong move, she could not let herself think what risk another one would bring her.

Here he is, about to ruin another special moment for you, she thought to herself as her driver weaved in and out of traffic to get her to the theater.

He doesn’t have to, another voice spoke up louder.

She thought back to their argument in the hallway the night before. Until she found herself on the floor beneath him, she had been proud of herself. The old her would have never said a fraction of those things to him. But she had squared her shoulders, looked him in the eye, and pushed back. Sure, she could not physically win a fight against him. But last night proved the psychological power he held over was indeed gone. And despite the emotional distress and pain she was in, that small act felt like a win in and of itself.

That small win was all the strength she needed to push through. Today was her moment, something she’d worked for for years. He could not take this away from her, the bruise he gave her could not take this away from her… not if she didn’t let him.

“You look like hell. You good?” Malcolm remarked as she dragged her feet past his dressing room.

She glanced back at him and gave him a smile that was more like a pained grimace. “Remember what you told me about fighting? Well, I got knocked down… trying to pick myself back up again.”

He raised his coffee cup as if to salute her. “That’s all you can do.”

As the day went on and she did interviews with the camera crew recording footage of opening night and they did a final rehearsal of one or two of the numbers, she did find her exhaustion and pain slowly dissipate. She knew it was all in her head, she was still very much both exhausted and in pain, but she just found the strength to ignore it. The stage was her home, her domain, and she felt at her strongest here. It was the flicker of light that she could always cling to when everything else felt dark. And so she held onto it, seized it with every fiber of her being and allowed that to give her whatever she needed to get through the day.

There was no other option, no other bungee cords to fall back on. It was just her and she had to pull herself, hold herself up, and shine bright even as she wanted to fall. Besides, she had not done all this, the secrets and lying, to let him psych her out so close to game time. She could fall apart when the show was over, but until then, her own strength was all she had. And that’s what she held on to as the day passed and showtime drew closer.

By the time she slid on her dress, she felt more like herself than she had in the last two weeks. She was ready a bit early so she slipped out and snuck to the stage. As everyone hustled around her to prepare for showtime, she watched through a slip in the curtains. The audience was almost full already. Her eyes followed the front row, recognizing some folks like Malcolm’s wife, Vanessa. She did a double take when she saw who sat next to her.

“Michael,” his name came out as a breathless sigh of relief. She did not know whether to cry tears of joy or have a panic attack. On the one hand, she could already see her web of secrets untangling right before her eyes. Even if they made it through the night without Michael and Shaun’s paths crossing, the moment they got home, there would be no hiding the angry black and blue bruise that covered her side. And she knew Michael was too smart to believe any lie she could come up with to explain it away.

However, as she looked at him, her fear of his reaction did not outweigh the joy and relief she felt at seeing him. He came back to see her, to be there for her on the biggest night of her career to date. And even if all her secrets fell apart, she could not feel anything other than gratitude and love for him for sacrificing his plans for her. Every day, he chose her and made her feel loved, supported, and safe. He did not need to say a word to her and his very presence made her stronger. Knowing he was nearby made her feel lighter and more at ease. She was no longer alone and felt as if someone attached more bungee cords to her to steady her.

She returned to her dressing room and pulled out her phone. She walked around her room, texting him.

Els: Funny… I don’t remember LA looking quite like where I work? 🤔

She did not have to wait long for the response bubble to emerge and her phone to ding.

Bakari: How’d you spot me? It was supposed to be a surprise for the end of the show ☹️

Els: I have eyes and ears everywhere 😉 seriously, though something happen in LA? Not that I’m not happy to see you but why’d you come back early?

Bakari: Something told me I was needed here more. Was I right?

She nodded as if he could see her. He knew her far too well. She did not even bother lying this time.

Els: Yea you were. Thank you ♥️♥️

“Maybe I’ll go introduce myself,” a voice whispered behind her, Charlotte’s heart sinking. “I always liked him, great actor.”

She should have known he would not let the day go by without finding some way to torture her. And she knew him stopping by minutes before show time was not a coincidence. But she refused to let him throw her off her game like he did at rehearsal.

“Hit me again and I’ll scream bloody murder,” she threatened as she turned around. She could tell he did not believe her but she knew it was effective. This was just as much his job as it was hers. He would not risk someone seeing him hurt her.

He merely sneered at her and shook his head, raising his hands in surrender. “Nope, just came to wish you luck. And say I’m a bit surprised to see you. It must be hard to dance with that?” He gestured toward her side.

“I’ve performed through a lot worse, remember?” She reminded him through gritted teeth. “This was always the one thing you couldn’t take.”

She studied him for a moment as he sucked his teeth in annoyance. She could tell he seemed a bit disappointed and frustrated by that fact, by the knowledge that she was not in bed nursing her side, crying over what he had done. Instead, she was here with a smile on her face, ready to do her job.

She had always felt like he had taken everything from her, broken her and reduced her to nothing. But this very moment was proof that he hadn’t. Every time she got up and performed with bruises or broken bones or any other injury, she silently told him that this was the one thing he could never have, the one thing she would never yield to him. That she would fight through all the pain to make it onto that stage night after night, to savor the few minutes every day where she could be the version of herself he tried to destroy. This was that flicker of light and he had always tried to stomp it out. Her brain was immediately filled with recollections of all their worst fights, all of which coincided with important shows or huge moments in her career. And every time, Charlotte never faltered, she never fell down, she never broke. She just bandaged herself up and kept moving. Not even the threat of him looming had driven her away this time.

“You know, I’ve been trying to figure out why you did all this. You want your plaything back, want that control again, sure. But this,” she gestured around them. “Is a fucking insane way to get to me. But now I know why, because this was the one thing you could never take. You took everything from me for years, reduced me to nothing but a shell of a person. N-No light, n-no personality… no agency. Nothing. B-But when I went to work a-and got on stage, even if it was for only two hours a night, I became something again. Was reminded that I was more than the nothing you made me believe I was. And you hated that. This is the last piece. You take this, you destroy my career, and I’d really have nothing.”

“I already did,” he took a menacing step toward her. Charlotte did not move though, forcing her body to stay rooted like a tree. She did not know where this sudden insurgence of strength came from but she welcomed it. For the first time, she had the upper hand. And she was going to use it. “I already took it once. You don’t think I can do it again? You were nothing back then and you still aren’t. A pretty face, a famous nigga on your arm, a nice voice… None of it changes what both of us know. I’m the only one who can love you like you deserve. I’m the only one who knows the truth about you.”

And for the first time that he told her that, she thought about all the ways in which Michael and her family proved to her daily that his words were not true. And though she still did not know if she truly deserved someone as perfect as Michael, she knew she deserved so much better than him.

She sighed, taking a step forward to close the space between them.

“I lived in absolute terror of you for years. My entire world was dictated by the look on your face. Three years ago, I would’ve believed every word you just said. In some lights, I’m still terrified of you,” she admitted, taking a deep breath. “Last night proved that. But since I left you, I built myself back up brick by brick. I met someone,” she smiled. “Who holds me up when I can’t, someone who rushed back here to protect me when he didn’t even know what I needed protecting from, someone whose very being and presence reminds me every minute of every day that I am something and I deserve so much more than the scraps you gave me. And in that light, you are far less terrifying.”

He let out a low chuckle, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward him. His grip was tight and painful but she still did not waver. “You keep forgetting what I’m fuckin’ capable of, Charlotte. Maybe I need to close the door and remind you?”

The prospect terrified her but she knew his hands were tied. It was just intimidation and she would not fall for it again.

“The thing is… I haven’t. You’ve shown me the worst you have to offer time and time again and I’ve survived every time. And it’s true. If you want to hurt me, there’s nothing I can do to stop you. I know I’m only alive because of God and luck. I can’t win in a fight with you. So take your best shot. But you know what else is true? I’ll still never choose you. No amount of fear or intimidation or pain will make me choose you. It’s him. For the rest of my life, it’ll always be him. And no matter what happens to me, you’ll have to live the rest of your miserable life knowing that.”

She used all of her force to rip her arm out of his grip, her skin stinging, as she grabbed the sweater that went with her costume and slid it on her arms as she spoke.

“You are right about one other thing though. I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve this light or the love he gives me. And maybe,” she offered sadly, “Maybe one day, he’ll realize that too and leave me. And maybe I’ll never find anyone to love me like he does ever again. But even then, I’d spend the rest of my days alone before I spend another moment of it with you. So I hope all of this time and energy was worth it. Because I’m done… I’m done giving you a return on this investment. You can’t take this and you can’t take my joy, my body, my relationship, my peace, or anything else from me again. Your time controlling my life is over.” The lights around them started to flash, signaling that everyone needed to get in their places. She took a deep breath and offered him a smile. “That’s my cue. Enjoy the show. I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

She smiled before walking around him and walking out the door. She could feel his rage wafting off of him but that did not stop her. As soon as she rounded the corner, she leaned against the wall, her heart pounding. She let out a breath she had not even realized she was holding in, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She messaged her arm, another bruise she would have to explain away. But that one had been worth it. To say those things and finally say her piece… the only thing better would’ve been to punch him in the face but she refused to resort to violence as he did.

“Fuck, that was terrifying,” she mumbled to herself. “But you did it, you did it. Another win for today. Deep breaths,” she instructed herself, her entire body relaxing as she took several calming breaths. “Now let’s go get another one.”

She steadied herself for a few more minutes before getting in her spot just as the announcer came on to start the show.

***

She was in the middle of changing when Michael finally made his way backstage to her dressing room. Her after party dress was just passing her hips when she heard her door open.

She did not even give him a chance to speak, she barely held in the tears that immediately welled up in her eyes as she saw him. She just immediately rushed into his arms, her lips slamming into his. The breath of relief she let escape was muffled as she kissed him. She buried her face in the space between his shoulder and neck as he held her, forcing herself not to flinch as his arm rubbed against her side when he pulled her in for a tight hug. Her breath was shaky as she breathed him in, grateful to be in his arms again.

“I-It’s so good to see you,” she whispered. “I m-missed you so much.”

His hand cradled her head into his neck, surprised at her intense reaction. He was concerned when he arrived but the tremble in her voice and body, the way she sagged into him, only increased his concern tenfold. He could tell she was trying to hide whatever it was that was wrong, hold it back. But he could feel it, feel everything that simmered beneath the facade of a performer.

“You were amazing.” His other hand rubbed her back. “But what’s going on, love?” He leaned back to force her to lift her head and look at him. His thumb wiped one of the stray tears from her cheeks, kissing the path it trekked. He did not see a point in prolonging the question. He knew it was a special night but she needed help. What kind? He had no idea. But the version of her that stood in front of him was not her, at least, not a healthy version of her. “You’re not ok.”

Charlotte sniffled. She could not keep this in any longer. This was just not sustainable. That had been the problem the first time with Shaun, she had dealt with it utterly and completely alone. And here she was, falling back into that same pattern of isolation. No one in her corner, no one to support her or help her. And she could not survive that way. If she was going to stay here, she needed someone’s help. Even if all they did was help pick her up when he mentally knocked her down. And she had robbed Michael of the opportunity to do that, and she knew there would be anger for that. But more importantly, she had tied her one hand behind her back by doing so. She had robbed herself of safety and comfort and it showed in the hell-ish experience of the last two weeks. She had asked Michael to move with her because she needed him. Now, it was time to call that support in.

“No… I’m not. But now that you’re here, I will be.” She pressed her lips to his cheek. “I need to tell you something though… about-”

The last part of her sentence was drowned out by Chris sticking his head in her door. She had not realized that Michael left her dressing room door open and glanced up to find Chris, Malcolm, and a couple other company members standing outside her door.

“Everyone’s heading over to the lounge. You two ready?”

“Umm… actually I think we’re gonna head home?”

“Home??” His tone was so filled with offense, you would have thought Charlotte quit the show. “Absolutelyyyyyyy not! The star of the night can’t miss the after party. Trust me, the sex’ll be 10 times better after a few drinks.” Chris, inappropriately so, automatically assuming they just wanted to go home to fuck. “Come on!”

She sagged deeper into Michael and rolled her eyes. She glanced at him, a silent conversation passing between them. She knew they weren’t going to take no for an answer, everyone was on too much of a high from the night. Her eyes searched for his approval to which he gave her a small nod.

“Fineeeeee, we’ll come but just for a bit,” she acquiesced, Michael’s arm not leaving her waist.

“Alrighty. You better. I have at least two cocktails with your name on it!” The man disappeared, everyone starting to head over to the party.

“You sure you’re ok with going?”

He nodded. “Yea, tonight is still your night and you should enjoy it. As long as you’re up for it. We have plenty of time to talk.”

She squeezed his hand before following him out to their car. She had no interest in staying at the party too long. She found it hard to relax at first, her eyes constantly darting around the party to see if Shaun was there. But as she and Michael had those two drinks promised by Chris (and then some additional ones), she still did not see Shaun anywhere and loosened up.

Despite the looming difficult conversation she knew she would have to have with him when they got him, she still managed to have fun. The night moved faster than she expected as she and Michael danced with Malcolm and his wife. Unlike the stuffy cocktail event from the night before, this was a true party, an opportunity to let their hair down and celebrate.

Charlotte escaped the dance floor to grab another drink, leaving Michael chatting with some of the other actors and their partners.

A hand touched her arm unexpectedly, Charlotte flinching and a groan escaping her before she could stop herself. She clenched her fist in pain. However, when she turned and realized it was Michael, her heart sank.

Fuck.

“You’re hurt?” His hand gently grabbed her arm and lifted it up to examine under the dim lights of the bar. She braced herself, his eyes flashing with rage.

“Who did that to you?” he demanded as he took in the light but distinct bruise disrupting her otherwise flawless skin. He had never seen a bruise or mark on her before.

“U-Um… no one. I m-must’ve hit it or something,” she lied. She could not even stop herself, it was as thoughtless and second nature as breathing or walking and talking to lie about an injury. She also knew this was not the venue to tell him what really happened. She wanted to tell him everything in the privacy of their own home.

“You’re lying,” he said immediately, his anger only rising. “Nothing you could’ve done would cause that. Who. Did. That. To. You? Tell me right now, Charlotte.” His voice was low but she heard it. There was no room to lie or hide the truth from him now. He would not accept it.

“I p-promise I w-will tell you. B-but can y-you just wait till we get home? I d-don’t want to talk about it here. Please,” she begged.

He studied her, his hand going to her neck to hold her gaze to him. “But you’re ok right now? Whoever did it isn’t here?” he glanced around as if he could spot the person in the moment.

“N-No, no. I promise. They aren’t here. It’s just a l-long story a-and I'd rather tell you at home. T-that’s all, I promise.”

He kissed her temple, nodding. “Ok, ok. I’ll call the car.”

“Thank you. I j-just need to run to the bathroom. 5 minutes?” She could tell he did not want to let her out of his sight but she offered him a reassuring nod. “I promise I’m ok. Just five minutes. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded and kissed her on the cheek, watching as she left.

Charlotte had to take a couple turns to find the bathroom, finding it empty when she entered. She tossed her clutch and phone on the couch before going into one of the stalls. She took a few deep breaths, already strategizing how she would explain the last two days to Michael. She was almost thankful the tower was crumbling, it was too hard to hold up anyway. But she wasn’t ready for the fall out, not fully anyway. But she knew once she told him, the weight would be off her shoulders and she could breathe easy for a moment. And she welcomed that. She knew honesty after secrets and lies came with a storm but there was always calm after, eventually.

As she finished up and readjusted her clothing, she heard the door open. However, she did not think much about it until she stepped out to find Shaun standing in the bathroom.

“W-what are you d-doing in here?” She asked, taking in his staggering posture and eyes. They were red, glazed over with rage. She was not even sure when he arrived at the party. She had not seen him once since she left him in her dressing room.

“You know I tried. I fuckin’ tried so hard to be reasonable…” he remarked as he reached back to the bathroom door and locked it behind him.

Charlotte let out a shaky breath, all of that confidence from earlier vanished in an instant. No escape and no upper hand this time and she knew, when push came to shove, he would always overpower her. She wondered if anyone would even be able to hear her scream over the loud music. She knew Michael would come looking for her in a few minutes if she did not return or some woman would likely try to come use the bathroom. However, she also knew Shaun did not need long.

“But then… you parade that nigga around in my fuckin’ face?!” He slammed his hand against one of the stall doors, the force causing it to bang against the wall loudly. Charlotte nearly jumped half way out of her skin, taking another step back from him. “‘It’ll always be him,’ he mimicked her speech from earlier. “It’s me… Or it’s no one, Charlie.” His steps were measured and menacing, despite the alcohol that clearly seeped out of every pore of his being, a predator who had finally cornered its prey and was tired of the games. There was nowhere to run or go as Charlotte found herself cornered by the wall. “You choose.”

Charlotte knew what she should say, lie to get herself out of the situation alive. And if he had asked something else of her, perhaps she would have said anything to appease him. However, she could not force herself to do it, not this time and not about this. She knew in her heart and soul that Michael was it for her. And she would never deny that, no matter the consequences.

Her heart pounded out of her chest but she forced the words out, “I-It’s… it’s still him, Shaun. M-My h-heart is his, my soul is his. A-and I c-can’t give you what you want. Not anymore. If it’s not him, t-then it’s n-no one.”

He let out a few deep breaths of shock and staggered back from her for a moment as if she had slapped him. She imagined he did not expect her to answer truthfully but she could not deny Michael. She would never.

Charlotte started to peel herself off the wall, hoping this was her moment to leave and escape. However, she only made it a step before she felt a sharp sting across her cheek, the force of his slap sending her body crashing into the sink in the bathroom. She grunted as her stomach hit the hard edge of the counter and knocked the wind out of her. She used one hand to brace herself to stop from falling to the ground. The other immediately touched her cheek, pulling her hand back to find blood where his ring had cut into her skin.

“S-Shaun, p-please d-don’t… do this…”

He scoffed and shrugged, his face resigned as if she had given him no choice. “I told you. Me or no one.” He slapped her again, harder, her body falling to the ground as her head hit the cold tiles of the floor. Her vision immediately grew blurry as he appeared over her. Her arms and legs flailed violently as she tried to fight back.

She could feel every blow, his fists aiming for any part of her body he could reach. Her face, her chest, her stomach. All she could do was scream for help as she futilely tried to fight him off of her.

His hands wrapped around her neck, squeezing. Charlotte’s eyes grew wide as she realized his intentions, her fingers clawing at his skin with all her might to force him to break his grip. However, it was no use. He had strangled her before, which was scary but she always knew he would stop. This, however, was totally different. This time she knew he had no intention of stopping until he felt the life drain from her body. She could see it in his eyes, it was over for her.

The edges of her vision started to blur. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of his weight and hands being ripped off her before everything went black and her last thread to the conscious world snapped.

***

Michael took a last sip of his drink as Charlotte walked away from him to the bathroom. Michael sighed as he did a scan of the party, his eyes following on a man in a disheveled suit who appeared at the entrance. Michael stared at him for a moment, something about him gave him pause but he could not place why. He watched as the man did a scan of the room before heading to the hallway that led to the bathrooms. He figured he was merely on edge as the sight of Charlotte’s arm came back into his mind. His hands clenched into a fist.

Another puzzle piece, another thing that did not make sense. Someone had clearly hurt her but he did not understand how or when or who would do that. He had only been gone for two days. Shaun did pop up in his head but he dismissed that quickly. When would the man even have shown up without Michael knowing? Michael was pretty much with her anytime she was not at the theater since they moved.

He continued to people watch for a few minutes, his eyes glancing in the direction of the bathroom every few seconds as he waited. His phone dinged with a message from Rob letting him know he was waiting downstairs. Michael glanced at his watch, realizing more than five minutes had passed since Charlotte went to the bathroom. He searched the crowd for her. He happened to run into Malcolm and his wife during his search.

“Aye,” Michael grabbed their attention. “Have you seen Charlotte?”

“Nope, not since she went to get a drink. Why?”

“Y-Yea. She said she was going to the bathroom but it’s been a minute. And she didn’t answer her phone. Figured she maybe passed by me or thought I was gonna meet her outside or something.”

“I was about to head to the bathroom before we headed out too. I’ll walk with you. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Malcolm and Michael walked the maze of hallways to the bathrooms, Michael stopping as they turned the last corner and another sound filled his ears, battling against the thundering bass of the music from the party.

“You hear that?”

“Yea. Sounds like someone screaming?”

Michael rushed up to the ladies’ bathroom door, getting close enough to hear the screams behind it. He only needed to hear one to recognize the voice. Charlotte. It was as if someone had replaced the blood in his veins with ice water. That sound would haunt him for the rest of his days, he was sure of it.

He immediately went to open the door, finding it locked. However, he did not give that a second thought as he told Malcolm to call the police and ram his entire body into the door. It took two tries before it yielded to his force and weight.

Michael did not need an introduction or explanation as he took in the scene in front of him. He had never seen a picture of Shaun in his life but instinctively, he knew who he was. Charlotte’s brief descriptions of him, her actions for the last two weeks, her nightmares, her injury, all those puzzle pieces seemed to fit instantly and paint quite a clear picture.

Michael immediately grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him off his girlfriend. He got a quick glimpse of Charlotte’s bloodied and bruised form, her eyes half closed, as he pulled the man away from her. He threw him down to the floor and kicked him in the chest, a satisfying crack filling the quiet bathroom. And he did not stop at one.

Shaun barely had time to think or defend himself as Michael channeled a year’s worth of boxing training into beating the life out of him. This man who had terrorized the love of his life for years, this man who had been the source of so much strife and pain in her life, this man who had been the reason for the rage filling Michael’s body. All he saw was Charlotte’s broken body and he lost all sense of himself.

He was thankful the loud music of the party drowned out Shaun’s screams. Every punch he rained down on him felt cathartic. Every scream and yell felt like music to his ears. Though he typically believed violence could be avoided, in this case, his soul needed this more than anything. This was the only answer. Michael had never felt the desire to feel someone’s life leave their body but he felt it in that moment, strongly, fervently. And he knew, if it came to that, he would not feel an ounce of guilt about it. This man did not deserve to be among the living, not with all he had done.

He thought about every time Charlotte screamed or whimpered in her sleep; every time her big brown eyes filled with terror and panic as something triggered her; every time she thought of herself as broken, unworthy, and unlovable - these things that were the farthest from the truth but he made her believe; every scar littering her perfect form that she looked at with disgust. He thought about it all and every time his fist connected with Shaun’s skin, he felt a bit of that rage he had bottled up since he learned about Shaun release. It felt good to finally do something with it. No longer did he have to punch the punching bag in his gym pretending it was this man’s face. The object of his rage was right there and he did his worst.

Michael only stopped when a force pulled his arm back, his savage beating cut short by Malcolm.

“It’s over, it’s over.” He whispered, holding Michael’s raised arm back. “I think Shaun understands your point. The police are coming. Charlotte needs an ambulance, now.”

Michael stopped, his hand still holding Shaun up by his collar, and glanced at Charlotte who was unconscious and propped up against the bathroom wall. He almost wanted to throw up at the blood that smudged the floor by her body.

“She’s alive,” Malcolm assured him as he took in the look on Michael’s face, Michael knew it must have looked lethal. “She hit her head but she’s alright. But she needs you right now and you can’t be there if you get arrested for killing him.”

He nodded and pulled his arm out of Malcolm’s grip. He stood and pulled the man to his feet. He was not even recognizable now, covered in blood. Michael could tell his nose was broken, a few teeth had been knocked out, and he was not even sure if the man could still see with both of eyes nearly swollen shut. And despite this damage and the pleasure he felt administering it, it still - somehow - did not feel like enough. The man was still conscious and still breathing and that did not feel fair.

“I’m only gonna tell you this fuckin’ once.” Michael’s voice was low and lethal, he did not even know his voice could sound so terrifying. He did not know who this person was, this dangerous version of him he’d never needed to pull out before. “Stay. The Fuck. Away. From. Her. If I ever see you again or you ever lay a finger on her again, I swear on everything I love, I will fuckin’ kill you. I’ll make what just happened look like a scratch. And I’ll end your pathetic life. We clear?” At his silence, Michael scoffed before throwing two back to back jabs into Shaun’s ribs, the sound of more bones cracking filling the air along with a pathetic, girlish scream. “I said, are we fuckin’ clear??”

“W-we’re c…c-clear,” Shaun forced out, the words barely audible as Michael’s arm pinned him to the wall by his neck, crushing his windpipe, was the only thing keeping him from doubling over in pain.

“Good.”

Michael removed his arm, the man unceremoniously crumpling to the ground with a groan. He could not help it but he kicked the man once last time for good measure as he shook out his hand and flexed his fingers. His knuckles were caked with blood and ached but it did not matter as he rushed over to Charlotte.

He pulled her body into his arms, propping her up against his legs. His breaths were shallow and rushed as he pressed his fingers against her neck. He knew Malcolm said she was alive but it was as if he needed to prove it to himself, assure himself. He let out a strangled sigh at the pulse he felt pumping against his fingers, strong and distinct.

She’s ok, she’s ok. Just knocked out.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here. I gotchu. You’re safe, you’re safe.” he whispered as two EMTs rushed into the bathroom. Michael did not notice the small crowd that followed them, Malcolm going over to Chris who was standing at the front, his face the picture of shock and confusion.

Michael felt as if he was just going through the motions as he rode with Charlotte in the ambulance. He merely just repeated that same refrain over and over again, holding her hand as the EMTs worked around him. They assured him none of her injuries were life threatening or severe. She took a beating but she’d be fine once they treated the head injury.

They forced him to wait in the waiting room while they rushed her to the hospital, Michael calling all of her family and his to tell them what was going on. He knew this would likely make it onto the news somewhere and did not want anyone to find out about it. Her father, who lived in Baltimore, and oldest brother, who lived in DC, promised to drive up first thing in the morning, Lauren, Jackson, and Jazz were planning to be on the first flight out of LA, and her eldest sister would be on a flight from Atlanta.

He cycled through pacing and texting her family until a nurse came to get him. He was thankful, the two hours he waited seemed to move by in slow motion.

Michael absentmindedly scratched the nape of his neck as he rushed behind the polite nurse, his ears barely registering her preppy and annoying voice. Her words were nonsensical until he saw Charlotte. He barely registered them once he realized she had little information to offer him. He knew nothing she could have said would satisfy him anyway until he saw her for himself, saw the warmth in her skin, felt the blood pumping through her veins, saw her injuries without blood caked in them, making them look far worse to his eye. He had not seen her in hours and he did not want second hand accounts that she was ok, he wanted to see her for himself.

The cycle of torture he had been on for the last few hours finally ended in front of her closed door. He took a deep breath and sent up a silent prayer before walking into the room to find Charlotte, his sweet honey bee alive and conscious. He studied the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way her hand fidgeted with the fraying edge of her blanket. He let out a strangled breath he did not realize he was holding in. He felt as if he was breathing for the first time in hours, a weight lifted off of his heart and body. The room was completely silent aside from the beeping of machines surrounding her, her eyes trained on the glittering lights of the skyline out of her window.

He examined the injuries he could see: the bandage on her forehead, the bruises already blooming on her face and neck. He imagined more had to litter the rest of her body, the areas hidden beneath blankets and a hospital gown.

“H-Honeybee…” his voice came out as a strangled whisper, his pain and fear flowing from his words like blood from an open wound. Her eyes clenched shut as she heard his voice, and heard the emotions laced throughout it.

At her silence, his hand wrapped around hers as he sat in the chair by her bed. He did not bother stopping the tears that slowly trekked down his face as he gently stroked her forehead.

“Baby…”

“I-I’m ok… r-really, Bakari,” she croaked out, her voice sounding small and broken. She avoided his eyes but he could see the clouds of guilt, shame, and embarrassment that filled hers. He knew she likely hated that he saw her like this. But it did not matter to him. He was just happy she was alright. “I-I’m o-ok.”

“No, you aren’t. Els... baby. Look at me, please," he whispered, noting the small shake of her head as she bit her lip. He could hear her silent pleas to not push. However, he needed to see her, truly see her.

“Charlotte.” His rare use of her full name did the trick, the young woman turning her head toward him.

Her eyes still did not fully meet his, but he decided it was a start. His thumb stroked her cheek, her eyes fluttering closed at the soothing gesture. Her head lulled to the side and rested in his palm. He did not say a word, he just offered her what he could tell she needed. His presence and his gentle touch that always soothed the troubled waters of her soul. However, so much of her face was bruised that it did not take long for him to graze a tender spot and cause her to wince.

“I-I a-a-m so-so sorr-sorry…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I f-…” she started to hyperventilate, her hand going to her chest as she felt the shooting pain of her sharp breaths radiating against her fractured ribs. “I-I t-tried to fight… I-I s-should’ve t-told…”

Her words became incoherent as she tried to talk through a panic attack. Michael immediately moved to the edge of the bed, hoping he could calm her down.

“Hey… hey, shhh… baby, take a deep breath for me. It’s ok, Els. You ain’t got nothing to apologize for, I promise.”

His voice was low and soothing as he tried to get her to calm down. He took a few deep breaths, encouraging her to mimic the action to slow her own breathing. “There we go… That’s good, baby. Relax, it’s ok. You’re with me and you’re safe now.”

He watched her eyes fall down to his hands, which a nurse cleaned up and bandaged for him. She sniffed.

“You saved me?” She asked quietly.

“Yea… I c-came for you.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes, refusing to let them fall. She winced slightly as she hit a bruised area. “You always do. Thank you.”

“Always,” he whispered, his hand wiping his own tears that started to fall. He knew he could be vulnerable but part of him battled to be stronger, despite how upset and scared he was. Right now she needed to be the vulnerable one, which meant he had to be the rock.

“I-I s-suppose y-you wanna know w-what happened?” she asked quietly, knowing he likely still did not know how they ended up in this situation in the first place.

“Yea but… that conversation can wait till we get home. All that matters right now is that you’re ok.”

She did not argue with him on that point. Charlotte’s head pounded as she laid in the bed, Michael sitting quietly next to her. Neither of them said much, she just closed her eyes and focused on his touch, his hands, strong and comforting against her skin. But cautious, she could feel that caution with every caress and stroke. She thought she had lost this forever, that she would never feel the heat of his loving touch on her skin again.

A knock at the door tore their moment of solitude away from them, both of their eyes moving to find two men in dark suits standing in the doorway. They flashed their badges identifying themselves as NYPD. The back of Charlotte’s hand hastily whisked away her tears before forcing herself up into a seated position. She forced a smile on her face but she knew with the cuts and bruises, it likely did not look like one.

“Good evening. We are sorry to interrupt. I am Detective Simpson and this is Detective Zidan. Ms. Bennett, we are so sorry for the ordeal you have suffered tonight. The doctors told us you were conscious. Would you be up for talking about what happened?”

She nodded, gesturing for the two men to come farther in. “Y-You can just call me Charlotte. And yea… Um… we were at the Purple Cat lounge, c-celebrating the opening night of our broadway s-show.”

“The Lighthouse?” Detective Simpson interjected. “My wife’s a big Broadway fan… we saw it last week in previews,” he clarified. “You were phenomenal.”

“T-thank you,” she whispered. However, even that compliment could not lift her spirits right now. “Umm, we had a few drinks… two or three I guess? But I w-was tired a-and M-Michael realized I was injured so w-we decided to go home. I went to the bathroom a-and when I came out of the stall, Shaun was there. H-he locked the bathroom door and knocked me down… hit me. A-and then he started choking me.”

“Did he try anything else?” His words were vague but Charlotte and Michael understood the implication. She felt Michael stiffen beside her.

“No, no. He didn’t do anything like that.”

“And what is your relationship with Shaun Parker, the assailant?”

“We dated for about three years a few years ago? He was abusive. I-I had a restraining order against him when I lived here back then. F-filed a police report a couple times then dropped them.”

“That’s great, very helpful thank you. That’ll establish a history of violence, pattern of behavior. How’d he know about the show? Have you had contact with him since you broke up? Any idea how he might’ve gotten access to the event you all were at?”

Charlotte clenched her eyes shut. And here goes that wrecking ball, she thought to herself. She prepared her mind and heart for the inferno of rage Michael was about to experience, this time directed at her.

“H-He showed up at o-our last rehearsal b-before previews two weeks ago. H-he’s a-and investment banker or manager and w-was working with one of the producers.”

Michael’s head whipped around in her direction, shocked that her answer was not a simple no.

“What the fuck?? He’s been around for two weeks??” He approached the bed, his brow furrowed and his heart rate increasing as his frustration skyrocketed. He was seething.

Charlotte’s hands twisted in her lap as she felt his anger waft toward her.

“I… I-It was fine at first, he didn’t really say anything o-or bother me. But l-last night, one of the investors hosted a cocktail event for us a-and he approached me… and punched me,” her voice got really small as she said that part, Michael stepping away as his rage grew to unprecedented levels. “A-and then today b-before the show, he c-came by my d-dressing room to taunt me. A-and grabbed my arm, l-left a bruise. I t-told him that I’d n-never be with him a-again.”

Michael ran his hand over his face. “Why didn’t you tell me??”

“I didn’t want you to worry!”

He threw his hands up in the air, his exasperation obvious to everyone in the room. “I don’t believe this shit,” he muttered under his breath before turning back to her. “You’re in a fuckin hospital bed, Charlotte. There was clearly a reason to worry! A-and you let me go all the way to fuckin’ LA where I couldn’t do shit to help you??”

“Michael, I-I’m s-sorry, I j-”

“Charlotte, Mr. Jordan, please,” the detective interjected. “Let’s all just calm down for a second. We don’t want to take up too much of either of your time. We know this is difficult to hear and a lot to process. Mr. Jordan, can you tell us what happened when you arrived in the bathroom?”

Michael turned away from Charlotte. His mind was on information overload, his anger pulled him in 30 different directions. But he knew the detectives were right, now was not the time. And putting this man behind bars was more important than his anger.

“It had been a few minutes and she didn’t come back, I went to the bathroom and heard her screaming. I forced the door open a-and saw him choking her. I-I pulled him off a-” Michael stopped speaking, the anger of that moment flooding back.

“Yea we saw Mr. Parker’s injuries. We can piece together the rest. Well, that’s all we need for now. Your accounts align with Malcolm Roberts’, the witness, and the scene so we are good for the evening. We’ll leave you two to get some rest.” He fished his business card out of his wallet and handed it to Michael. “If you think of anything else once you’ve gotten some rest, give us a call.”

Michael stopped the men. “And what about me?” While Michael did what he did to protect Charlotte, and did not regret it, he knew his beating of Shaun would be considered overkill by anyone with eyes.

The detective shrugged. “From my assessment of Mr. Parker’s injuries, you used necessary force to subdue him. And that’s what I plan to write in our report.”

At the raised eyebrow Michael gave him, the other detective merely winked at him. “I’m a husband… If I’d walked in on what you did… let’s just say he’s lucky he got off the floor at all. Even if he wants to press charges, given the circumstances and well, your status, the DA will likely decline to move forward and we would back that up. We aren’t here to ream you up, Mr. Jordan. You will have to pay for the damages to the door at the club but that’s it.”

Michael felt relief wash over him.

“We’ll be in touch,” the detective said before turning to leave. However, he turned back and said, “Loved you both in Creed. Take care of yourselves.”

Michael pocketed the man’s card and watched as they left before turning his attention back to Charlotte.

They sat in silence for a while, Michael’s hand rubbing her arm to comfort her. She could still feel it, his anger, but he controlled it, kept it to himself. They were both two powder kegs ready to explode. Both of them were using materials as flimsy as scotch tape to hold back the avalanche of emotions that threatened to consume them.

It took a few more hours of poking and prodding before the doctors told her she could go home. She was thankful, just wanting to sleep in her own bed in Michael’s… if he was not too angry at her to deny her that.

She pushed herself out of bed, Michael handing her the clothes Malcolm had picked up and brought over for them. She started to lift the nightgown over her head but groaned lightly at the stretch needed to do so. She let it fall back down over her legs.

“Let me help.”

She bit her lip, fiddling with the gown for a moment as her eyes bounced between him and her body, before shaking her head. “Umm no, no… I got it.”

“Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because I don’t need it. I got it.”

He scoffed and raised an eyebrow at her. “You really think now is the best time to lie to me again, Charlotte?”

She covered her eyes with her hand for a moment before sighing. “I j-just don’t want you to see t-the bruises… I k-know you’re mad at me. I-I don’t want to m-make it worse. A-and I don’t want them to change h-how you see me… feel about me.”

Michael’s feet came into her line of vision before he lifted her head and kissed her forehead.

"Look at me," he quietly demanded. He rarely demanded but she heard it in his voice, it was not a request she could refuse. His hands held her face, holding her gaze to his once she looked up at him. “There is nothing in this world that’ll ever stop me from wanting you, aight? These bruises are just a reminder that you survived and that’s all that matters to me. And it doesn’t matter how mad I am, I’ll never deny you what you need. And right now, you need help. So let me help you.”

It took another moment or two of coaxing but ultimately, she relented. He kissed her cheek before his hands pulled her gown over her head, the young woman wincing at the stretch in her side. Michael’s eyes trailed up her body, happy to see most of it looked fine. Her upper half though, her chest, her stomach, her neck and her face were covered in bruises that made his hand clench into a fist.

His eyes focused on the bigger one on her side, one that clearly had been there longer than the others.

“That’s where he…” he could not even say the words. At her small nod, he took a step back from her and turned away from her. His breaths were shallow and pained.

“It’s not as bad as it looks… I’ve had worse.”

He shook his head, the scotch tape simply could not hold his rage back any longer. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.”

“M-Michael… I’m s-sorry. I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m upset because this,” he gestured at her bruise, “is upsetting. This nigga was terrorizing you, Els. And hurting you while you let me fly across the county to sit in bullshit ass meetings when you knew you needed me here.”

“I thought I had it handled!”

“Oh so what? You’re fuckin’ Olivia Pope or some shit?”

“Not funny, Michael.”

“I aint fuckin’ laughin’ Charlotte. If this was handled, I would not be looking at your body covered in bruises and we wouldn’t be in a hospital. He could’ve killed you. If I hadn’t gotten there when I did, he would have killed you. I mean… what were you thinking??”

“I-I s-should’ve told you,” she admitted. She knew there was no excuse for lying as she had and she would not waste his time trying to come up with one. “I-I just didn’t t-think you’d understand.”

He shook his head, a strangled sigh of frustration escaping him. “Well you’re right. I don’t understand why my girlfriend, the love of my life, the woman I want to marry and build a life with, lied to me and hid something so dangerous and life threatening for weeks. You let me move all the way here to protect you, and when you needed it most, you didn’t trust me to do it. I don’t understand why you didn’t trust me.”

All she heard in his voice was his pain. Beneath his righteous anger, she understood where it stemmed from, a well of hurt and disappointment that she did not trust him with this problem.

“M-Michael,” she approached him. “I t-trust y-you with my life. I-it wasn’t a question or lack o-of trust. I w-wanted to tell you so b-bad. T-that night when you helped t-through that nightmare, when you called me the other night from LA…in my dressing room earlier. I wanted to tell you.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

She sighed, she turned back to the bed and sat down. Her physical body was barely standing, barely holding on.

“I dunno… I t-thought I needed to d-do it alone. It’s a-always been me d-dealing with him… I g-guess it’s just a-all I know. A-and I-I was t-tired of losing… tired o-of him t-taking everything… tired of r-running,” she admitted. “A-and I was afraid, afraid you a-and my family w-wouldn’t understand why I would w-want to stay once I knew he w-was around. A-and I was afraid you’d try to stop me. A-and worst of all, I w-was afraid if you gave me an out, I’d be a coward and take it a-and then he w-would’ve taken something else from me. So I l-lied. I lied and kept it from you b-because I knew it would force me to handle it on m-my own a-and it almost killed me. Literally a-and figuratively. B-Because I did… need you.” She let out a small sob. “I needed you so bad. J-just to be there. A-and I deprived myself o-of that and I deprived you of the chance to help me a-and I am s-so so sorry.”

Michael unfolded his arms as he listened to her. He could hear it, her regret and the sincerity of her apology. He was still angry but the roaring rapids of anger were now more like a quiet stream. Far easier to manage and put in perspective. He understood that her scars with Shaun went deeper than he could possibly understand. It was not shocking that she had defaulted to these choices. Michael sat next to her on the bed, his hand resting on her thigh.

“I know, I know. But listen to me, Charlotte.” She lifted her eyes to look at him, surprised to find the anger gone and nothing but grace and compassion remaining. “You never have to deal with anything alone again. I’m here and whether I agree with your decisions or not, I’ll always support you and help you. I promise you that. But you gotta come to me from now on, Charlotte. This? The lying, the secrets, putting your life in danger. You can never do this again. When I saw you, I thought you were…” he stopped himself and let out a shaky breath. “You can’t scare me like this ever again. Do you understand me?”

“Never. I promise. I’m so so sorry, baby.”

He nodded. “I know you are. It’s ok. Let’s get you home and in bed, aight?” Michael still felt guilty, ashamed that he was across the country instead of protecting her. He had known something was off and still left and that would haunt him for a while. But holding her choice against her because he felt ashamed would not help either of them. He trusted that she understood him and would come to him if she ever needed help again and that would have to be enough.

***

“How are you feeling?” Charlotte’s dad asked as they settled around the living room.

Charlotte was tucked into Michael’s side as she talked with her family. She had not really left his side since they left the hospital that morning. And he kept his hands somewhere on her the entire time. She knew they were both clinging to each other, unsurprising given what all had transpired.

She was not surprised but still slightly put out to find her entire family waiting in their apartment when they finally got home. She had not slept well in weeks and had not gotten more than an hour or two in the last 48 hours. She just wanted to curl up into Michael’s chest and sleep for days. Instead, she was on hour four of her family fawning over her. It was sweet and she understood why but she had never been less excited to see them in her life. Emotionally, she was barely holding it together and she was ready to fall but instead she was forced to hold on a bit longer, remaining upbeat so her family knew she was alright.

“I’m in some pain b-but none of it is super bad. Doc said I c-could be back on stage in a week as long as this heals alright,” she answered, pointing to the bandage on her head. Her voice signaled her hopefulness that that would be the case.

“That fast?” Tiffany, her eldest sister, asked from the kitchen.

Charlotte nodded. “Yea, I was kind of surprised too. But Chris canceled a couple shows, just till Tuesday so I won’t even miss a full week. The optics of his lead almost dying at the after party weren’t the best,” she admitted. She glanced up at Michael. “Can you make sure we send him some flowers and a bottle of wine? There’s a Merlot he loves that I can try to find. As an apology. I know that’s not how he saw his opening night going either.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

Charlotte smiled, trying to keep the mood positive as everyone’s faces still looked grim every time they looked at her. “Well in a sort of silver lining from last night, the show went really well? Reviews came out a-and Michael read them on the way home. They are so amazing. I can’t wait for y’all to come back so you can see it.”

“Oh that’s great!” Allen offered.

“As if there was even a doubt about -” CJ started to say before Jackson cut him off.

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?” Jackson blurted out, his anger getting the better of him. Charlotte could tell he was more upset than the rest of her family as he had been virtually silent since they arrived. But she knew why. “Are we really gonna talk about that damn musical like she didn’t fuckin’ almost die to be in it?”

“Baby…” Lauren chastised him. She offered Charlotte and Michael an apologetic glance that told them she tried to head off this outburst before they arrived. “We said we were gonna talk about this later.”

“Nah, fuck that!” Jackson stood up and all the anger in him seemed to explode. “What the hell is wrong with you?? How could you be so reckless? So fuckin’ stupid to let him do this shit to you again?? What the fuck, Charlie?”

Charlotte knew her brother did not mean his words, knew he was just angry. However, in such a fragile state, she could not help the way her body folded into Michael’s at Jackson’s tone and his words. She knew she deserved it. She had kept secrets and lied to her family as much as she did Michael. She knew what she put them through was wrong.

Michael immediately stood up in front of her, using his body as a protective shield from her brother’s harsh tone. He understood Jackson’s anger, he really did. But he had made peace with Charlotte’s choices and accepted her apology. And hours removed from the shock of everything, he regretted piling onto her pain in the hospital by blowing up at her. It was the wrong time to have that conversation. And so was this. He refused to allow anyone else to do it either. She had been knocked down enough in the last 24 hours, the last thing she needed was to get it from the people she loved too.

“Aight brah. Cool it. She knows she messed up but regardless, what happened last night wasn’t her fault. You need to take a breath and calm down.”

“Like hell it isn’t. She knew what he was capable of! And no disrespect but I’m tryin’ to have a conversation with my sister. In case you forgot, I’m the one that pieced her back together after that nigga fucked her up the first time. Meanwhile, she wouldn’t even look like that if you had been here protecting her instead of out in fuckin’ LA.”

“Aww shit,” Jazz muttered as Michael took a menacing step toward Jackson, his words clearly striking a sore spot.

There was barely any space for God between the two men as they stood off, Michael ready to throw hands with anyone who stepped at Charlotte the wrong way, present company included. The other men in the room rose from their seats as well, the tension between the two men palpable.

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re tryna do. I’m the one takin’ care of her now. And I’m tellin’ you to back the fuck up and calm the fuck down. Take another step toward her or raise your voice at her in my house again and I won’t be tellin’ you shit.”

“Alright, enough, enough.” Charlotte called out. She grunted in pain as she pushed herself up from the couch and made her way through the sea of testosterone to her brother and boyfriend. “Let’s all just calm down and sit down. N-No one, least of all me, has the energy to hear either of you argue about who’s more protective.” She placed a gentle hand on Michael’s chest to nonverbally let him know she was fine. He took a step back, raising his hands in surrender. However, when Charlotte stepped in front of him, his hand still went to rest on her hip as if he would need to move her behind him again. He was on edge, everyone understood it.

She turned and faced her brother. “You’re right. What I did was reckless and it was dumb. But I know you, Jackson. Look me in my eyes and tell me if you knew what was going on, you wouldn’t have flown here and made it your mission to drag me back to LA with you?”

Jackson scoffed. “Of course I fuckin’ would’ve. Because I’m the one that nursed you back to health when you left him, the one who woke up to you screaming night after night for months. Every good day, every bad day, every horrible day. I was there. I saw what he did to you, how he destroyed you. And I never wanted to see you go through that again. But I can’t believe I would’ve even had to convince you. The fact that you weren’t on the first flight home after you saw him is fuckin’ insane, Charlie. It makes me question your judgment entirely.”

“I know I wouldn’t be standing here without you, Jackson. Y-You and Lauren saved my life. A-and I am sorry for the lying and the secrets. Truly. I-If I could go back and do it differently, I w-would have told all of you. But even though I regret that, I still would’ve stayed here and done this show even if I knew this would be the outcome.” At her family’s shocked expression, she sighed. “Question my judgement, call me stupid, I don’t care. You helped me heal but I put myself back together piece by piece and I didn’t do that to live in fear of him for the rest of my life. I did it so I could live the life I want. So I could build the life I want, so I could be free. And I don’t regret staying here to fight for that life. I almost died and it was terrifying for me a-and I can only imagine how it felt for you all for the second time. And I’m truly sorry for that. But it was my choice. And I’m not gonna apologize for fighting for what I want, for what my soul needs. You don’t have to like that decision but you do have to respect it.”

“Jackson… she’s right,” her dad, Christian Sr, interjected. “Charlie has always been smart and driven. I wish there’d been another way but I understand. I’m just glad you’re ok, squirt.” Her dad wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Same, sis. But can this be the last time you almost die on us, please? It’s getting kinda old,” Tiffany joked under her breath, CJ hitting her on the arm.

Charlotte let out a belly laugh that made her ribs ache. “Y-Yea, I can do that. I’m down to 6 or 7 lives now anyway. I should preserve them. I’m sorry for scaring everyone. Seriously.” She glanced at her brother who had now gone silent. “Can you forgive me, J? Please?”

He pulled her into a hug, his lips pressed into the top of her head. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Charlie,” he warned.

“I promise.”

“Ok, let’s all go check into our hotels and give Michael and Charlie some time alone. She needs rest. We can come back tomorrow,” Lauren remarked, shoo-ing everyone toward the door.

Charlotte mouthed thank you to her before wrapping her in a hug. If there was one person who was always a ride or die for her, it was Lauren. She never failed. Michael immediately led Charlotte into their room as soon as everyone filed out and started to help her get ready to finally rest.

“I-I think I want to shower first?”

“Whatever you want, baby. Need help?”

She shook her head. She had not been able to detach herself from Michael since they got home. But she realized after her family’s visit that she needed at least a moment of solitude, a few moments to process the last 48 hours alone. “No, I don’t think so. But I’ll leave the door open just in case.”

Michael settled into bed himself, grabbing his phone to check his email and text messages. It took him a while to make his way through all of them. He had ignored nearly every notification in his phone since he got back from LA. He clicked on one, a link to CNN from Steelo.

He wondered if he should even press play on the video but he decided to.

“And now, breaking news from Broadway. Last night, after the opening night performance of The Lighthouse, the musical’s star, Charlotte Bennett was attacked at the show’s afterparty at a nightclub in the Upper West Side. Bennett, a rising star most known for her role in the recent blockbuster hit Creed, recently returned to Broadway after a two year absence. The assailant, Shaun Parker of New York, was apprehended and is in police custody. NYPD held a press conference late this morning where they announced the state would be pursuing assault and attempted murder charges against the 30 year old investment banker. NYPD also shared that Bennett’s boyfriend, actor and star Michael B. Jordan, also from Creed, was also involved in the altercation, restraining Parker until police arrived.”

“NYPD found that there was a history of domestic violence between Parker and Bennett, Bennett having filed a restraining order and several police reports during their relationship. Lead detectives are still determining Parker’s motivation for attacking Bennett but evidence suggests it was in retaliation for rejecting his advances. Parker’s lawyers were not available for comment.”

“Guess that cat’s out of the bag,” he heard Charlotte mumble. Her body was wrapped in a towel, leaning against the door. He had been so wrapped up in the story that he had not even seen her exit the shower. He quickly closed the link and threw his phone down on the bed. She looked better to him, the light and life returning to her skin. She still looked dead on her feet but he knew only time in bed would fix that. He watched as she chewed on the side of her lip.

“I guess… I knew it’d make the news a-and people would find out. Now everyone’s gonna know how dumb I was, every stupid mistake I made.”

“Or… everyone’s gonna know you survived something awful and applaud you for it,” Michael offered as he grabbed clothes for her to change into and handed them to her.

She used his arms for balance as she stepped into a pair of his Calvin Klein briefs and he helped her pull the sweater over her body. She tried to control the grimaces and small expressions of pain but it proved difficult.

“Somehow I doubt that,” she whispered as he helped her get situated in bed. She let out a deep content sigh of relief at finally being able to relax. She looked at him for a moment and pulled on his arm to bring him close to her. “Thank you for taking care of me and for saving my life… a-and loving me.”

He shook his head. “You don’t ever have to thank me for any of that.” He pecked her on the lips.

However, as he leaned back, her hands cupped his face to stop him. Her thumb rubbed the stumble of his beard as she studied him. After a moment or two, she kissed him again and this time, they did not stop. Michael could feel it, all the pain she felt, her desperation and need as she clung to his body as if he would disappear if she let him go. However, when her hands naturally drifted to the waistband of his sweats to take it to the next level, he wrapped his hands around them to stop her. As much as his body responded to hers, he knew he could not allow this moment to go too far.

His hesitation had nothing to do with a lack of desire, his straining manhood was the proof of that. However, given how Shaun treated her during sex, Michael took great care in how he did. He vowed to ensure she never felt like she was merely a plaything or a warm body for his use. And while, after the day they had and almost losing her, he would love to bury himself inside her, he knew he could not do it even if she wanted it. Even if she chose to ignore it, Michael knew she was merely minutes away from falling apart and this would not help her hold it together.

However, the pained and disappointed look in her eyes almost made him question that resolve. And it broke his heart.

“W-what’s wrong?”

“You were almost murdered less than 24 hours ago. You’re injured and in pain. I can’t fuck you like that didn’t happen. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“But I wasn’t. And I appreciate you being a gentleman but I’m fine, I promise.” She captured his lips again.

“I-It’s not about being a gentleman. It’s about knowing you and what you need and this ain’t it.”

“ I need you,” she whispered back, her forehead resting against his. “Bakari, please. Don’t make me beg you. Please.” She tried to stop her voice from breaking, she knew that would not help convince him she was ok enough to do this. But she could not describe how desperate she was to feel something other than her current pain.

And now, his refusal only made her feel worse. This was utterly foreign to her. There had never been a time where Michael denied her or pumped the brakes. She had not even considered this outcome, figuring he would be ready to go if she was. But she supposed she could not blame him. Her bruised body was far from attractive.

He’s angry and disgusted by you, a voice in her head rang out loudly.

His eyes clenched shut as he struggled to stay steadfast in his convictions. But the need in her voice tested every fiber of his being. That voice, so vulnerable, so clearly desperate for him, made him want to relent. But he couldn’t.

“The last 48 hours have been hell. I see it in your eyes, you’re barely… you’re barely holding it together, love. You need rest and maybe you need me but I don’t think sex is what either of us need right now. And… whether you realize it or not, I imagine the things he did to you, however long ago, are gonna come back up. I don’t want to trigger any…” his words failed as she tore herself from his arms and turned on her side to face away from him in frustration.

“I-I k-knew this would happen,” she whispered to herself. “The bruises… s-seeing what he did. I d-disgust you.”

“That’s not it! Look at me. You have never and will never disgust me. I don’t even want to hear you say that shit. I always want you. But your physical and mental health is more important to me than anything else and that means we can’t do this.”

“I just want…” she whispered, unable to put her desires into words. It was not even a physical desire she craved. She just wanted to keep moving. She just knew if she laid here and sat in the stillness with him, the dam would break and she would fall apart. And she just was not ready to feel the extent of all of this yet. And she hated that Michael knew that, picked up on that so quickly. “I’m fine, Bakari.”

“I think you just want to feel something else… I think if we do this, it’ll make you feel like you’re fine when you aren’t. I know it’s hard for you to be vulnerable. But you got me, I’m here and you can fall apart, scream, cry… whatever. You can be not fine. You got me and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes went to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. “I am fine, Bakari.” She let out a groan of frustration at his silence, knowing he did not believe her. She could not tell who she was trying to convince more. Him or herself. “I’m fine.”

His hand wiped a tear that fell from her eyes as she stammered. “I promise you… I’m fine. I’m… fine,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of it all, the simple words being much more difficult to say. “I’m… f-” the words died in her throat as she started to sob.

“Come here.” He enveloped her in his arms as she broke down into tears, her sobs filling their bedroom. “You’re gonna be ok, Els. I promise. I gotchu and you’re safe. I promise.”

He moved onto the bed to better cradle her into his side, her face buried in his chest. They stayed like that all night, until she cried herself asleep, finally releasing weeks of pent up pain and fear. Michael watched her for most of the night, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest next to him. Every so often, she woke up whimpering softly, nightmares plaguing her sleep. And he would just hold her again and whisper the same refrain in her ears until she calmed down again. She was safe and he'd never let her feel this pain again. And he would make it his life’s mission to ensure he kept that promise.

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless

A/N: First, if you made it through this long sad chapter, THANK YOU! I hope the savage beating of that nigga was worth it LOL If you are wondering what I envisioned, if you watched Game of Thrones, think about when Jon beat the hell outta Ramsey after Battle of the Bastards lol that sort of visceral rage and Ramsey looked better than Shaun in my mind haha… I promise y'all, our story is on an upswing from here on out lol 90% fluff from now on, I promise!

Drop a comment and let me know what you think/let me know if you want to be tagged! How do you think Bakari and Els are gonna recover from all this?

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #black panther #adonis creed #michael b jordan fanfic #creed iii

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kotamagic · 3 months

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Content warning for psychological distress on this week's Lore Olympus is real. Don't say you weren't warned.

Last week saw Apollo nigh-forcefully working with Persephone to fix the Mortal Realm crisis. With whatever it was Ouranos gave him, it did what it needed to do. At least, for a little bit.

Not only is the bastard clearly and knowingly making the experience miserable for Persephone, but also his plastic smile looks more fake than usual.

Is that ichor leaking out of his eyes? I hope he's in extreme pain from this little show of his. Fucker deserves all the agent he's put others through.

Next, the douche-canoe goes on a shpeal about how Ouranos "helped" Gaia control her powers. She never needed help with her powers. All that Ouranos did was use them for his own gain.

Everything Apollo says about Gaia needing "fixing" is a lie. Further, he blames her marriage to Hades for causing the extreme winter.

He uses it, as predicted, to lead into ordering Persephone to marry him. That gets him numerous ABSOLUTELY NOTs from across the board.

I can't even begin to imagine how horrifying this is for Persephone. This purple Olympian shit stain is desperate to get at her powers. He thinks he's king and can bully everyone just because Zeus is out cold and he's king's son.

I do wish Artemis would show up at some point. Technically, she's got just as much claim to the thrown as her brother, plus the benefit of common sense and decency.

THE QUEEN SPEAKS!

Welcome to the latest shit-show, Hera! She comes out spouting just about everything the other Olympians and the readers have been thinking and feeling.

I particularly love her emphasis that Persephone "so obviously despises" Apollo.

Oh, this was the cherry & icing on the cake!

With the camera still rolling, she outs Apollo for manipulating Hebe into running away. With her piece spoken, she moves onto the next matter at hand.

DAT EPIC MIC DROP THO!!!!!!

Hera intends to fix several things at once by doing what is possibly the most dangerous thing.

Kronos has stated that he won't cooperate unless he's given his "Golden Traitor" back. Hera knows it's dangerous. Her vision from a few chapters back showed her likely getting either killed or completely wrecked in a direct confrontation with Kronos.

And yet, she's willing to take that risk, not just for herself, but others as well. Persephone has been kind to her in multiple ways; the least she can do is give something back.

Maybe they'll save Hades. Maybe they'll save Melinöe. Maybe they'll kick Kronos' ass. Maybe they'll get Persephone's spring powers back. Maybe they'll even find the cure for Zeus. There's so much that can come out of this that the extreme danger feels worth the risk.

We shall see.

BONUS:

ARES VS APOLLO (with everyone else now), ROUND 2!

FUCK HIM UP, ARES! I WANNA SEE A LOT MORE ICHOR ON HIS UGLY FACE NEXT WEEK!

ANYWAY, THANKS FOR COMING TO MY LO POST!!!!!!!

#lore olympus #lo persephone #lo apollo #lo hera #lo ares #lo hecate

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jerktournament · 9 months

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ROUND ONE - Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs) VS Berdly (Deltarune)

!! PROPAGANDA BELOW !!!

DAZAI OSAMU: "He has no idea how to be a good person. He joined the Mafia mostly for fun as a teenager. He was very excited about Chuuya getting tortured in Stormbinger. He turned all the sheep against Chuuya and forced him into the mafia. He had to borrow his dead friend's morals. He abused and then left a child who is still super messed up about it. He's a better mentor to the next kid, but still causes him severe psychological distress. He literally gets antsy if he doesn't cause enough chaos and upset for a day, and thus terrorizes his coworkers."

BERDLY: "I've literally never played Deltarune. I've watched some clips online, a few fan works, and theories connecting it to Undertale, but in all reality, Berdly is currently the only fucking reason I care about Deltarune. I love douchebag little assholes so fucking much, and Berdly is literally the one thing that keeps me invested in exploring anything relating to Deltarune, so much so that if he's [Spoilers for Deltarune that you'd get if you played it], I'm legitimately never playing the game. Toby Fox has so well crafted a shithead little scrunkle man that even me, someone who has never played his game and barely even observed his actual representation, loves him to fucking death, and I will put my earthly soul to fucking rest if I cannot just vibe with him once the game is finished."

#dazai osamu #berdly #bungou stray dogs #deltarune #poll

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ukrfeminism · 2 years

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5 minute read

The first red flag was the “dick pic”. Katie had no idea her 14-year-old son was communicating with strangers in secret on the Mermaids website, until she found several sexually explicit images on his phone.

Her autistic son, who had been teased at school for possibly being gay, had visited the school nurse, who in turn did what so many schools, local authorities and child mental health services across the country now do when presented with a gender-non-conforming child in distress: referred him to Mermaids.

The charity is the country’s best known transgender youth charity. It has basked in the support of celebrities such as Emma Watson and Prince Harry, and won generous grants from the National Lottery and the government.

Unbeknown to Katie, her son had joined the charity’s youth forum, a private online community for 12-19 year-olds who are struggling with gender issues. Parents and carers are not allowed. No proof of ID or age is required, only an email address.

Once signed up, he entered an online world where vulnerable children seeking support with others in similar pain, share their personal details, including phone numbers, email addresses and social media handles, under the apparently approving supervision of Mermaids moderators.

Screenshots seen by The Times also show users openly arranging to move their conversations about experimental drug treatments and medical transition on to even less supervised platforms, such as Discord, with the tacit approval of Mermaids moderators.

It was on Discord, an instant messaging social media platform that was started by gamers and now boasts about 350 million subscribers, that Katie’s son met the strangers who started sending sexual images and asking him to send them photos of himself in sexualised poses in his bedroom in return, which were then found by his mother.

“He felt they were his friends,” said Katie, a teacher. “It was after that I found all the Mermaids emails in his inbox, with the links to all these discussions [on the Mermaids youth forum.]”

The youth forum is promoted on Mermaids’ website as “a wonderful place to find community and allay fears”.

However, critics say it is an “irresponsible ‘Wild West’ free for all’ which allegedly fails the most basic online safety standards.

“Essentially, it is providing a space for children where it’s the blind leading the blind,” said Stephanie Davies-Arai, founder of campaign group Transgender Trend. “These children are not qualified to help other children with emotional and psychological issues. It’s hugely irresponsible.”

Mermaids promotes itself as a leading authority on LGBTQ issues, and is paid to train teachers, police forces, NHS staff and social services on dealing with transgender issues.

This week the Charity Commission confirmed it would be investigating Mermaids’ safeguarding practices, after receiving a number of complaints from parents.

One major red flag was its binder scheme. It emerged in an investigation by The Daily Telegraph earlier this week that the charity is sending potentially dangerous chest binders to children as young as 13 and 14, behind their parents’ backs. These are used by some women and young girls with gender dysphoria to flatten their breasts in a bid to appear more masculine but they carry serious health risks, potentially causing breathing difficulties and damage to healthy breast tissue, ribs and the spine.

Another cause for concern was the youth forum.

Confidential safe spaces can be vital lifelines for children to access support in the charity sector. Childline, for example, allows children to communicate anonymously with each other on message boards, subject to strict controls.

There is a time delay before a child’s post goes live, allowing moderators to screen the content. The house rules set clear parameters for discussion, forbidding any posts that talk, for example about self-harm as a coping method, or suggest that running away might be the right choice. Medical advice is forbidden — “even if something is safe for one person, it might not always be safe for other people” — and no posts are allowed about target-driven goals to change body shape as “it can make people feel competitive and encourage people to diet in unhealthy ways”. Children are not allowed to share any other ways to contact each other off the boards, and, crucially, the message boards are public.

Mermaids conducts its forum very differently.

On its website, Mermaids explains that “we sometimes suggest a young person uses an email address their primary carers have no access to” because some LGBTQ children live in “hostile environments” in which being outed may risk harm or even homelessness.

The charity insists it does not give medical advice. However, much of the discussion revolves around the idea of medical transition as a solution to various problems.

On the forum, which has around 700 members, children share their excitement at the prospect of starting hormone treatment. Introducing themselves, one child said: “I’m 15 and I’ve socially transitioned and I believe I’m getting my first blocker shot on Wednesday. (Fingers crossed!!!)

Mermaids continue to promote puberty blockers as a safe and reversible treatment, despite medical consensus that the long term impact on teenage development remains unknown.

In another post, under the subject heading “Forearm or thigh skin graphs [sic] Phalloplasty”, a young woman who identifies as male asks which part of the body is used to surgically create a penis.

“So I was wondering if anyone knew the difference between taking a skin graph [sic] from your forearm or thigh for phalloplasty? They had heard arm skin was preferred “but since I have permanent self harm scars I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

She is advised by another person in the group: “I really don’t think it will make a difference particularly because it will be 5 - 10 years before you get phallo. (I assume you want T [testosterone] and top surgery before),” adds the respondent, who then recommends some “really good videos on phallo” by a YouTuber.

When an unhappy youngster shares their mobile phone number, Snapchat and Instagram handles, it is left to another user — rather than a moderator — to warn them: “Are you sure it’s a good idea to post your phone number on here? There are over 700 people on this forum.”

In another post, under the topic “lonely”, one young girl posts her full email address and mobile phone number.

Once children sign up to the forum, they receive daily emails, highlighting the discussions taking place under headings such as “advice on unsupportive parents”.

Stephanie Davies-Arai, of the campaign group, Transgender Trend, said: “It’s a bit Lord Of The Flies, isn’t it? You’re letting children create their own little society, where they all support each other in a belief they probably learned online. They don’t have the maturity to recognise the harms of those internet forums.”

Parents expressed particular concern over the moderators’ alleged failure to intervene when users arranged to continue their relationships on other platforms.

In a post dated Jan 2020, a moderator using the name “Izzi J” interjected to advise the youngsters not to draw attention to the Mermaids connection, when they moved their conversation on to the unregulated chat rooms of Discord.

Izzi J wrote: “Great idea for you to have a Discord server together! I have to be a bit of a buzzkill here, you can’t call it Mermaids because it isn’t our server, run by us or affiliated with us. Give it a different name and you’re golden. Have fun :)”

In other posts, the same moderator talks about “the anti trans brigade”.

“Most people I know had no idea about trans issues until I came out and then the good people among them learned and changed how they viewed things. Some people are too lazy and bitter to change and that’s unfortunate.”

Having complained to the Charity Commission in 2020, Katie, not her real name, welcomed the watchdog’s decision to investigate further.

“I am cautiously optimistic that this time the Charity Commission will recognise unequivocally the harm being done to very vulnerable children,” she said.

Another parent, whose child was also referred to Mermaids, said: “Mermaids sees itself as the ‘hero’ or ‘rescuer’ of children, from ‘unaccepting’ parents. Anything that sidelines parents is a red flag.”

He said he was horrified to see the moderator’s response to Discord: “Discord is absolutely full of really grim self-harming and eating disorder servers [chat rooms], so just having vulnerable kids with body issues on discord is potentially a major risk.

“In contrast, Mermaids basically said, ‘what a great idea, off you go into this internet wild west, just you can’t use our name’. There was no concern for these young people’s welfare, they actually endorsed the idea of setting up a private server whose membership and rules would be completely hidden.”

The Times asked Mermaids to clarify the ages, training and background of the moderators who are responsible for supervising the forum, but the charity refused to respond.

In a statement, Mermaids said it was the victim of a “smear campaign.”

It said: “We’re in the midst of a targeted, cynical attack. Security of our platforms and safeguarding of young people is of the utmost importance to us and we continue to regularly review our processes and procedures to make sure our forums remain safe and secure. There are several layers of moderation checks before anyone can gain access to the forum, and anyone found to have fraudulently gained access to our platforms will be reported to the police immediately as a safeguarding concern.

“All of our moderators receive comprehensive training, including safeguarding training, and everyone using the forum has to comply with a strict code of conduct, which prohibits the sharing of personal information, including online identities.”

Mermaids emerged as a support group for young people receiving treatment at the NHS gender identity clinic based at the Tavistock and Portman NHS Foundation. Trust, which has since been disbanded on the recommendation of an independent review.

Whistleblowers said they were alarmed by the charity’s alleged influence over the clinic’s leadership team, with some clinicians concerned that Mermaids was schooling young people on what to say in the consultation room, in order to access hormone therapies quicker.

Mermaids insists it does not encourage one particular treatment over another.

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 2 months

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LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 4, Poll 4

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Yan Xiaohan-Golden Terrace / Huang Jin Tai

Qualifications:

He is a bastard child of unknown origins who got adopted by the Court Eunuch and was thus looked down upon by people, so he has severe inferiority complex and abandonment issues. On top of that he contacted a deadly narcotic one dose of which left him with a long term addiction. The only way to cure it is to go cold turkey as a second dose of it would mean he can never recover. So he is left with severe drug withdrawal which makes him emotionally unstable during flare ups (i.e. makes his mental health issues way worse and at times makes him do impulsive things) and sometimes physically unstable as well (constant tremors, losing control over limbs etc.). His healing is a long process and it only gets a little bearable when he is with his sole trusted person (Fu Shen).

Propaganda:

Badass military General (Fu Shen) and shrewd politician (Yan Xiaohan) could never see eye to eye in political issues. The Emperor forced them into an arranged marriage after Fu Shen's 'accident' to handicap both of them even further as they were too powerful to handle. Joke's on him, they just became the most in love with each other couple in the whole country and neither the marriage nor their disabilities could stop them from getting what they wanted, be it more power, prosperity for the people, or just each other. Fu Shen's physically very strong even when he is wheelchair bound (he has stopped assassination attempts on the Emperor), and when he wears his mobility aid boots he has fought wars and lead his army to victory. But the sexiest part of him is his wit which can complement Yan Xiaohan's perfectly. The only thing that 'causes a setback in this is his sense of morality and loyalty which creates a contrast with his husband.

Yan Xiaohan is also strong and skilled in double handed swordsmanship, but his forte is psychological warfare. He has no bottom-line (except his husband) when it comes to doing things beneficial for his goal. Which is why the withdrawal flare ups caused him quite a bit of distress. These two are that couple who'll flirt with each other even in the face of death, so even their disabilities are a fuel to the flirting and teasing. One of Yan XIaohan's famous quotes is "only one of your three legs can stand up Marquis". He also hides all of Fu Shen's mobility aids (wheelchair and boots) when they have a lover's spat so he can tend to Fu Shen personally (carry him around, helps him bath, dresses him etc.) and make up in the process. On the other hand Yan Xiaohan's addiction can be partially satiated for a while by the next best thing for euphoria, i.e. sex and food. So they fool around in risky places (read: public) using that as an excuse.

Robin Buckley-Stranger Things

Qualifications:

Canon lesbian and VERY heavily coded to be neurodivergent in some way (but it's the '80s so she's not catching a diagnosis any time soon). And by very heavily coded I mean literally says the words "I don't really have a filter, or a strong grasp of social cues."

Propaganda:

Canon lesbian with an iconic coming out scene! Is also described as hyper, knows a shit ton about languages (and in fact knows 4 including English) and films and rabies, is bothered by certain textures, is distracted easily but also notices a lot of smaller details, talks very fast, and doesn't have a good grasp of social cues. Also of note is that she mentions taking 6 months longer to walk than most babies, which is notable because developmental delays usually accompany autism. Robin is also noted to be less coordinated or balanced than her peers (to the point that there are a couple moments where another character reassures her about doing something requiring coordination) as well as being a "weird runner." This could possibly point to dyspraxia, which in addition to being it's own thing, is also known to have high rates of comorbidity in those who have ADHD and/or ASD. With all of this in mind, a lot of people see her as having ADHD or Autism, or even having them both. Again, it's not like she can just get diagnosed in the show to confirm it given the time period (hell, it's hard for people, particularly women, to get diagnosed even today). Additionally the lack of vocabulary to properly explain her experiences, or for other characters to do the same in regards to Robin is also due to the time frame (See: "she's hyper", "a weird runner". That being said the first time has the character saying it later befriend her and the latter ends up being used in a more fond manner. Even Robin herself mentions thinking that her whole life is "one big error", because, again she doesn't have any resources to show her what might be going on). As a nice side note, her friends generally treat her well, such as the aforementioned instance of reassuring her in an area she feels less confident in, and her friends in general enjoy her company and stick by her if need be, which I thought was nice (One of whom she has come out to, which makes it all the more meaningful in conservative small town Indiana in the '80s because... yeah.) Basically, there's a lot of evidence and also I just really like her character so here we are. Given season four is where a lot of this comes up, I am whacking away anyone who said she got annoying in season four.

#polls #poll #disabled characters #lgbtq characters #disability #lgbtq #lgbtq dcs round 1 #lgbtq dcs wave 4 #yan xiaohan #golden terrace #huang jin tai #robin buckley #stranger things

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henrysglock · 3 months

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Hi! You said I could ask you questions if I had any (I’m sure you explain stuff I’m about to ask in other posts but I don’t have the time to go through alll of them rn SORRY IF IT FEELS REPETITIVE TO EXPLAIN)

So I read your big timeloop post (super super cool post btw LIKE OMGGG MY BRAIN IS BRRING) and you mentioned some stuff that I don’t rlly know about (guessing it’s TFS stuff) anyways! I wanna know what you’re talking about because I wanna make sure I fully understand everything you’re talking about. And I’m sure I could look some of this up but I’d prefer hearing your thoughts/personal takes on it because it helps me understand stuff better

Anyways I was wondering if you could explain more about “The Attack on Mr Newby” ? As well as tell me what we know about Brenners dad so far? you explained quite a bit of it in that post- I’m not sure if you covered it all, and sense Brenners dad seems to have to do quite a bit with his motives I wanna know as much as I can abt him

ALSO whose inmate 58361 and what purpose did they have in the story? Was it just someone Henry killed to appease the MF?

Okay yes!! Absolutely. Buckle in. So the attack on Mr. Newby was an event in The First Shadow. Patty and Henry are in the Creel attic using his powers to search for her mother. Midway through, the Mindflayer attacks and possesses Henry/puts him into a vision. Hearing Patty's distress, Mr. Newby comes up to help. He ends up being the target of Henry's powers (while he's possessed, much the same as it was with Prancer earlier on). Although Henry fights the Mindflayer off (with some help from Definitely Not Patty), Mr. Newby loses his eys and breaks several bones falling through the attic floor after he's dropped when the possession connection is severed. He later tells Patty, who was completely convinced that Henry did all of that of his own accord out of malice, that she has to save Henry from the Mindflayer because he was fighting it/it wasn't his fault at all.

All we know about Brenner's dad is that he was the captain of the USS Eldridge, which was the ship in the Philadelphia Experiment. It vanished into Dimension X when our Brenner turned 15 (October of 1943...yes, on our Brenner's birthday), and Captain Brenner was the sole survivor. He returned to our dimension with an altered blood type (the same weird blood type Henry has...which sounds like a development that came about when he went missing in a Nevada cave system about a year before moving to Hawkins, around the same time that he began having hallucinations and violent tendencies from the Mindflayer) that caused his body to reject all transfusions of normal blood types. We're not given a reason that the blood type changes after exposure to Dimension X, just that it happens. Captain Brenner told our Brenner everything he knew about Dimension X, and succumbed to his injuries shortly after. Evidently, our Brenner didn't like his father very much, given that Captain Brenner tells us that our Brenner told him he hates him. However, Captain Brenner's disappearance and death is, supposedly, our Brenner's motivation irt Henry and the lab kids: Finding someone who will let him into Dimension X so he can solve the mystery of what, exactly, happened to his father.

Inmate 58361 was a prisoner that Brenner brought in for Henry to "feed" on, since he surmised that Henry gains strength from killing Vecna-style after hearing about the animals. Henry refuses to hurt 58361, and Brenner makes a pitch at him about how animals can't consent to testing the way people in the prison system could. Fucked up, huh? Anyway, all this happens after Henry agrees to break out of HNL to meet Patty at the school play so they can run away from Brenner together. Henry, still resistant to Brenner's demands that he kill and worked up by Brenner's psychological tormenting (the hollering, the insults, the Everything), lashes out to escape. 58361 gets caught in the crossfire as Henry goes after Brenner and the guards (though mind you—Henry stops short of killing Brenner or the guards, despite EVERYTHING). 58361's eyes go, which we can see in the bloodstains on the sack over his head when the attack happens. This makes him super important, because it shows that Henry's natural killing style is not Vecna-style. It's actually far more similar to El's style that we see in ST1 with Connie and the lab goons, which has major implications about what we see in the massacre irt One's kill-style. tl;dr: 58361 was meant, by Brenner, to be a food sacrifice to the Mindflayer/Henry. Henry refuses to kill him, but ends up hurting him by accident while trying to free himself from the lab.

Whew. LOTS of stuff. Saw the play 4 times in person (and like 5 more times on tape...for legal reasons this is a joke) and it's STILL a lot to take in especially when it comes to fitting it into filmed canon.

#asks #st: tfs

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dragynkeep · 10 months

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Maybe I’m just a Jaune hater but I really don’t think him and Ruby should be friends anymore. After what happened in volume 9 (you know, like screaming in her face for being emotionally distressed after a PTSD episode, causing her to run away and be physically and psychologically tortured half to death leading her to commit suicide) friendship between them should be a bridge thoroughly burned.

Obv I don’t mean in a hateful way. I mean in like a “I love you but it’s for the best” way because every time they look at each other, they��re reminded of their worst and lowest moment so they’d rather just not be around each other.

No but for real, and this isn't even coming from me as a Jaune hater, but as someone who literally had to burn bridges with friends who said and did horrible things to me.

If I was severely traumatised and mourning and one of my closest friends not only berated me for something he also agreed to, being chased by someone who wanted me dead for nothing that was my fault, and never apologised even though he did all that while having killed my best friend, there would be too much.

And it doesn't even have to be a big horrible fallout and "we're never speaking again fucking kys", Ruby can move on from what Jaune did and said and find peace with it, but that doesn't mean they're friends anymore.

But CRWBY is allergic to actual consequences and interesting character writing so whatever.

#rwby #rwde #ruby rose #jaune arc #answered #luke.txt #god forbid their creator's pet gets any reprecussions for literally killing someone

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skaldish · 2 years

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Hey Zan. You’ve been answering a lot of questions about systems recently, so I want to ask something. What is your stance on people with nondisordered systems? I agree that DID and OSDD are COMPLETELY different experiences to people who are so-called “endogenic” systems. DID and OSDD are not fun cutesy things to have, and people who are like “hehe, I have DID because I want to” are bad, just like anyone who says “hehe, I have (disorder) because I want to” (also common with autism, ADHD, Tourette’s, etc). However, I have met too many people who are not singular in their minds who do not have DID or OSDD to be able to dismiss it entirely. I myself don’t think I qualify as having either of these disorders because my experiences with having numerous people in my brain cause me no significant distress. But they’re certainly still there.

Apologies if this ask is inappropriate. I appreciate your blog immensely, and am legitimately searching for viewpoints on this topic to help inform my own.

So. Here's something very important I want to impart, and pardon me for sounding terse but this is critical to know:

DID/OSDD is not a mentality of "having multiple people in your head," nor is it characterized by feeling distress.

The "multiple people" thing is a pop culture stereotype based in pure ignorance.

DID and OSDD are forms of dissociation. Dissociation is not a mental process, it's a neurological one. Your brain actually cuts off physical neural pathways to other brain-parts so your self-awareness can't register them. A brain with full-fledged DID is nearly—if not entirely—incapable of reconnecting these segmented neural pathways because they developed early in life. They lay at the foundation of brain-development.

With both DID and OSDD, the isolated brain-parts are still active and still get used. But rather than working cohesively, they're used in "chunks." This is what creates alters.

DID/OSDD aren't forms of neurodivergence. They're trauma adaptations. This is the brain compromised by severe distress.

My opinion is that you can't have dissociative states—alters—unless your brain was subjected to enough psychological torment that it had no choice but to break itself apart. That is the necessary criteria for this to happen.

I couldn't tell you what the people in your head are. What I do know is that the brain is capable of creating truly epic simulations.

Here's an example of what isn't OSDD/DID:

My neurotypical roommate has a "committee" of mental advisors that he uses to soundboard ideas. They take on the forms of certain significant people in his life and offer the wisdom, perspectives, and advice those people might offer him in real life. When he needs to, he takes the committee members out, hears their various pieces of advice about the problem he's facing, and then puts them away once he's done.

This is a simulation; a stage to facilitate critical thinking and to prompt my roommate to think outside the box. The committee members aren't alters and engaging in this thought experiment isn't a dissociative episode. It's all just a clever, creative, and healthy way to think.

The brain is absurdly powerful, and the last thing anyone should do is misrepresent what it does.

#answered #actually osdd

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nomsfaultau · 8 months

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SBI Whumptober prompt 3) Dehumanization and 26) Shock (but only as a pun)

Disclaimer: this blurb is set in the SCP SBI AU I have called Fault, specifically prior to Part 1. Explanation of AU; tldr.

(Wilbur)

[Exposure to object: ████’s voice may result in physical harm to ear drums. In extreme cases, it causes severe psychological distress that necessitates the termination of Foundation personnel. The objective of this treatment is to reduce the lives and sanities lost containing this anomaly, as its escape would cause countless casualties.

As it is dangerous to check the content of auditory recordings, success will be measured based on the audio level in room 15021. Report attached below. For further information contact the archives division, but proceed with caution.

(Legend: 60 dB is normal speaking range; 90 dB is a human scream; at 150 dB ear drums rupture.)

Treatment introduced at 8:57 AM. No injuries were sustained. Post 9:23, object ████ did not produce volume above that of the 30 dB threshold. Treatment was suspended to permit sustenance intake. Early results are promising.]

— — —

The calming song he’d been humming pooled into the air. Velvety low notes, meaningless lyrics. Wilbur found it soothing. For all that he’d grown up with nothing to his name, music was always his if only because no one could rip it out of his hands like they did everything else. A small rebellion, but it was Wilbur’s, and it was a well-honed act of honey-sweet spite.

It was a song to forever remain unfinished as footsteps echoed closer. A faint sound, but his gut was well-tuned to it by now. He backed away from the entrance as employees poured into his cell. “Stay still and make this easy or you’ll wish you had, ████.”

Wilbur bristled at the moniker. “My name is Wilbur,” he snarled, jaw ripping apart into a horrendous, seething mass of teeth. He refused to let them steal his name, too. He wasn’t an object, or an it. For all that the Foundation refused to admit it, Wilbur was a person.

“Unless you’d like to be tased again, cease the threat display.” The voice was bored for all the fear their words stabbed in Wilbur’s guts. Scowling, he wrenched his jaw back into place, shoving the mandibles to proper alignment with the rest of his skull.

“So what’s up? Want to stab more needles in? Or, oo, you’re going to send more criminals in to see what happens? You humans really are eager to sacrifice your own,” he said conversationally even as he retreated from the sprawl of guards. Hands seemed to grab him from every direction and Wilbur just had to grit his teeth and bear it. “Come on fellas, there’s really enough of me for everyone, no need to get handsy-” He was scruffed, head shoved down. He suppressed the instinct to rip every one of them to shreds. Unfortunately, by now Wilbur was incredibly familiar with just how extreme Foundation punishments were, and he wasn’t eager to taste them. He’d been behaving, even, which was a tall order for him. All he’d been doing for days now was lay in his cell and hum stupid little songs to himself. Not jeopardizing people or devouring the world whole or anything! It made everything inside him howl, but even Wilbur could learn to submit to authority if the repercussions were extreme enough.

So when they ordered him to shut up, Wilbur did, even if he had to bite his tongue to manage. Something snapped shut around his throat and he managed to make zero (0) snarky remarks. Phil would be proud.

Almost immediately, the employees fled. Huh. That was a weirdly short experiment. Wilbur sighed in relief. Eventually, he prodded curiously at the thing around his neck. It was oddly bulky, tight enough to make him conscious of his pulse. What the hell?

A…collar?

“What th—!?!” the world dissolved into pure agony. A horrific scream tore from his throat as electricity poured through it.

— — —

Legend: Asterix indicates when treatment was applied. Shaded areas average periods where object: ████ was in an inactive state and treatment was deactivated.

Notes:

Day 1 offers a baseline for audio levels prior to treatment.

Treatment was introduced Day 2.

Day 2: Volume spike at 21:41. If object: ████ is presumed to have a REM cycle akin to that of a human’s, it is hypothesized the initial increase in decibels was the result of a nightmare. This was an irregularity not accounted for when planning the procedure and thereafter was rectified by discontinuing treatment applications when it slept.

Object: ████ is not given an artificial night block for obvious reasons and has an irregular sleep schedule. It tends to sleep whenever it collapses from exhaustion. Post 22:00 it was monitored for consciousness.

Day 3: At 3:20 AM it screamed in its sleep again. It did not immediately resume sleeping, instead staying up and continuing to produce sounds. Researcher █████ ███████ bravely volunteered to check the audio in case it was a security risk. Fortunately, researcher █████ ███████ was unharmed and reported it was mimicking vocal sounds ranging from soft humming to crying. It would not cease. At 4:10 treatment was applied to disincentivize exploiting the choice to leave the treatment device inactive during periods of unconsciousness.

Conclusion: Object: ████ self-regulates volume to levels below 30 dB threshold, which drastically reduces the chance of harm for personnel.

This Special Containment Procedure has been deemed a success.]

— — —

Wilbur rubbed his aching throat. It hurt, but it felt good to have the shock collar off his neck. Unfortunately, he reckoned the respite would only last the duration of the coming visit with Philza.

The Foundation hated the visits for their security risk. But the threat to humanity was far greater if Philza went unchained, and so they lured him in with promised glimpses of his stolen children. Wilbur hated to be a pawn, but there was nothing any of them could do. Still, he was grateful for the visits. He wouldn’t have lasted this long without them.

He needed this to be normal. Jokes and quips and jabs and everything he needed to say before his voice was locked up again. Wilbur smiled brightly the moment the door opened and revealed Philza.

And yet one look and concern spooled in his features. “Are you okay?”

Yes. But the word never fell from his tongue. It should’ve been an easy lie, but Wilbur’s throat constricted, expecting punishment. Panic set in, this was supposed to be the one time Wilbur was safe and yet he couldn’t speak. His fingers jolted to his throat as if anticipating a shock simply for thinking of trying.

Philza surged forward, wrapping him in a warm hug. “Hey, hey, I got you. What happened?” Wilbur tried to force out an answer, choking on it. Nothing came out. He tried over and over to speak only for his vocal cords to lock on him. It grew tight to the point of pain as his distress spiked. Philza ran a comforting hand down his back even as Wilbur clawed into him desperately. “You don’t have to tell me, that’s perfectly alright mate. Here, I saved some extra food for you…”

He curled up with Philza the rest of the visit, sheltered in his arms. It was the closest he’d had to anything resembling safety in weeks. Philza’s heartbeat thumped comfortably from where Wilbur rested on his chest. Quiet, not loud enough to risk a shock. That was safe then. A low, sweet rumble began to vibrate in Philza’s chest, an ancient lullaby spilling over its gentle aegis.

Wilbur shoved Philza away, terrified the current pouring through his body would be shared. It took a beat to realize there was no voltage forthcoming. Phantom electricity trickled down his spine, but it was all in his head.

The lullaby stilled on Philza’s tongue. How often had Wilbur heard it as a child, the familiar tune used to lure him to peaceful slumber. It felt like a betrayal that a song that had soothed him so many times before now kindled only fear. Wilbur swallowed roughly, unable to look at Philza.

“Sorry,” Philza murmured, confused. “I can be quiet?”

Wilbur shook his head. He didn’t want the Foundation to win like this. Wilbur buried himself in Philza’s embrace, shoving the panic down and forcing himself to feel safe. Claws stroked through his tangled hair, lyrics half tumbled into gentle assurances. Slowly, the vice on his throat eased. Tentatively, he joined the song, so quiet it hurt. His throat ached from all the abuse poured into it, hoarse from disuse. Too far above the echo of a whisper and the fear returned, seizing his voice once more. Still, it got a little easier as the hour spent itself.

But then the visit was over, and the panic spiked, knowing this might be the last chance he got to speak for the rest of the month. Wilbur pressed his mouth to Philza’s cheek in a parody of a farewell kiss. His words came out ragged and husky and so, so scared.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dad.”

#sbi whumptober #wilbur soot #wilbur soot fic #philza #sand duo #scp wilbur #scp philza #sbi scp au #fault au #sbi au #sand duo fic #scientific graphs? in MY fictional unethical 'human' experimentation?#its more likely than you think #shock collar #whump #dehumanization #scp foundation fic #scp foundation

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clown-demon · 2 months

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@sunderedscript asked:

“So, apparently, the ‘bad vibes’ I’ve been feeling are actually ‘severe psychological distress’.” From a dog to a rat or maybe a clown

"Psychological distress?" Nikolai parroted, looking at his canine ally. That was a bit concerning that he was distressed..

He placed his knuckles on his hips and shifted his weight. "Do you know what's causing it~?" the clown asked him. Maybe he could help relieve it some.

Normally he didn't care if people were distressed, but the man did care if someone he considered a 'friend' was stressed out by something.

#sunderedscript #Hey put on a happy face; Then everything's okay / Nikolai #You are my liberty I celebrate the day ; that you changed my history / Main V.#((Since we have a thread with Fyodor I went with Nikolai

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raxistaicho · 2 years

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Edelgard haters get pretty gross about Jeritza

Something I see pretty often from Edelgard’s detractors, both on gamefaqs and here on Tumblr, is referring to Jeritza as just a murderer or serial killer. Not even hyperbole, they’ll just call him “a murderer” or “Edelgard’s serial killer.”

Like... you’re referring to a man in constant severe psychological distress, not fucking Light Yagami. Jeritza is fully cognizant that what he’s doing isn’t okay, and he believes himself to be wrong for it, to the point that he rebuffs Edelgard’s suggestion that he finds some way to make up for his crimes. In his mind, the only suitable response is punishment, even if it lasts for the rest of his life. He kills because he can’t stop himself, not because he’s rationalized himself into it.

Prior to Hopes coming out we didn’t really know how Edelgard felt about Jeritza’s actions, but their support chain makes it clear she’s doing her best to minimize the damage he can cause (in both Houses and Hopes, he emphasizes that without her help he’d just kill civilians instead) while trying to sincerely help him however she can. Are her methods perfect? No, but she’s operating within a society where mental health is clearly a non-existent concept and which would prefer to just execute him as a first resort. That she’s even broaching the concept of redemption and acceptance is an amazing step given the world she’s in.

Really, what’s different between Jeritza and Jaffar? I don’t see nearly such vitriol aimed at the latter, and he doesn’t even contemplate the idea of redemption or punishment before he meets Nino. So seriously, just writing Jeritza off as a murderer is disgusting and ableist.

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #three hope #jeritza von hrym #edelgard von hresvelg #edelgard positive #edelgard discourse

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endeavvor · 26 days

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ON TARSUS IV

A question raised frequently for AOS is whether or not Kirk still spent time on Tarsus. Short answer:

Yes.

Long answer: Still yes, just that it is an integral part of who he is as a person today.

P R E T A R S U S

Up to the age of thirteen, Jim is a good child. He gets good grades, keeps his head down, does everything that is asked of him by his step father because he is trying to ease the burden on his mother. At this point, Winona is absent. For a long time she tried to stay and raise the boys, and it was easier with Sam looking so much like her, but Jim was an issue for her. He has his father's eyes, and the older he got, the more he took after George, and this was painful for her. So she threw herself into her own Starfleet career, was rarely home, and is a captain of her own ship. Jim believed if he didn't take up space. Didn't make waves. Didn't cause trouble. She would love him and come home. Instead, he had Sam. Until he didn't. Sam was the one person on Earth that was meant to love Jim unconditionally. Who was idolized by him. But he left him anyways. Left him with the parting words that he would be fine because he didn't take up much space was was ultimately looked over. Something in those parting words resonated with him to the point when he saw the glint of metal in the ignition of his father's restored car. He didn't hesitate.

T A R S U S

Considering the intention of Jim cleaning the reconstructed Corvette was for Frank to sell it without Winona's permission - he did not take kindly to it ending up at the bottom of a ravine. It did not matter Jim was alive, just that he'd finally stopped being good and quiet, and cost him a lot of money in the process. He had a violent streak and was not afraid to take it out on the Kirk boys, but ultimately, it caused Jim to be sent away to live with an aunt and uncle on Tarsus IV. What happened on Tarsus stays on Tarsus in that the events that occurred following the epidemic does not exist in his file. As he is one of nine survivors of the genocide the only one who even remotely knows he was there is McCoy [ for this blog specifically, that is @hiippocrates].

L A S T I N G E F F E C T S

Physically Jim was a late bloomer. It is often remarked that he was a small child, and this was exacerbated by his time on Tarsus during the genocide. There was already a lack of nutrition available to them, but compounded by his allergies meant he could not eat just anything they found. He doesn't reach his full height and weight until the age of seventeen - when he finally fills out. He also has four self inflicted scars gouged into the side of his hand just beneath his thumb. One for each child in his group he swore to protect, but lost. Sometimes, in moments of stress, he will run an index finger over these scars to remind himself the price of failure. He cannot stand failure as an option. Failure equivalates to death. Psychologically is a bit harder to fully pinpoint and I could deep dive into this at length for hours. We see Jim consistently boasting confidence and arrogance, but it is a facade. These are things he does to project a persona, along with how quick he is to turn to flirtations to get his way. He will dumb himself down to not be taken seriously. A bad reputation is better than no reputation. No reputation means you are not important enough to remember. He also has severe abandonment issues and does not let anyone close to him. His father died the day he was born. His mother couldn't be bothered to be around him. Sam left him. We see this come to fruition in the way he shuts down when McCoy starts to leave him for the Vulcan distress signal after he is grounded after the tribunal. He barely looks at him, or acknowledges him. The goodbye is superficial. The doctor sees it, and it's why he drags Jim aboard the Enterprise anyways. In fact, aside from his friendship, the majority of his relationships are superficial or for his own personal gain. Seduction and promiscuity started as a necessary evil when it potentially meant a bed to sleep in and a roof over his head for the night. He has no regard for personal items, or really his own life. When he arrives to the shuttle the morning after his bar fight with cupcake, he has nothing but the clothes on his back. He also tosses away ownership of his bike to a stranger because he will have no need of it anymore. This circles back to failure not being an option. His quarters on the ship also have a general lack of personal effects - just items that can be tossed into a bag, or just tossed in general. He still believes his title of Captain is precarious and can be stripped away, so he refuses to make it a home. Homes mean permanence. Homes can be burned to the ground.

This obviously only touches the surface of my feelings on this topic and how it comes into play in my portrayal. It barely scratches the surface on his reckless disregard for his own life. However, it's a start and the smaller details can be pried from his cold, dead, fingers.

#hc.#this is deeply personal to me and i will scream this to the void #long post.

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girlwithfish · 29 days

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its why I don't see forgiveness happening any time soon bc I still have difficulty understanding how this person who I wanted to believe had my best interest at heart and was a safe trustworthy good person could continously do these abusive things to hurt me even when it was so clearly causing me pain and intense psychological mental and emotional distress. i guess I wonder why he couldn't have just had the internal self reflection realization that he's being a horrible person and this isn't how you treat any human being and would have stopped. nd it really disturbs me that no amount of attempts to reason w him or call him out or to condemn his behavior and actions would make him look within himself at all, he was just fully convinced he was right or would find some way to justify it. And so when he messages me months later when I clearly don't want to talk to him saying he has had all these revelations and self discovery and shit about his tbi (like having a tbi made him? have empathy now or smth like idgi) it just doesn't do anything for me. like cool you learned ur abusive but I knew this for ages even when I couldn't quite call it abuse for a while or recognize it fully but I knew the behavior was wrong still. and it's disturbing it took him ages to realize that. and stuff abt his self discovery journey that he rambled on abt it's like cool but how does that help me? it's all abt u again and I'm sick of it and I don't want a bad apology or u to realize months and yrs later that uve been abusive bc I knew! despite all of the manipulation and severe efforts to either blame it on me or shift blame in some way and the attempts to be dishonest and make me feel like im crazy for two yrs like it's unforgivable I think

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