#nightmare angst

[mikimakiboo]

Wheels of misfortune (a Nightmare angst fic)

Based on these two posts by @unknownchoatic :)

I don't know ANYTHING about disability as I am not disabled myself, so please excuse the inaccuracies and misinterpretations :')

Also English isn't my first language so there might be grammatical errors :')

I'll proof read later

Tw: paralysis (???), mention of bullying, self hatred

It was late, the moon was high in the sky and everyone in the castle was sleeping. Everyone but Nightmare. He was wide awake, laying on his bed looking at the ceiling. He had been feeling quite unwell these past few days, he wasn't sick, but he could feel his body being heavy, especially his legs. There had been a fight with his brother recently, but he didn't recall being hurt, he came back tired because of the positivity, sure, but he wasn't hurt, so why was he feeling that way ?

He sat on the edge of his bed, sighing, and pushed on his arms to get up, feeling his legs shake under his weight. He looked at his private bathroom door at the back of his room, for a moment it seemed to be so far away from him that he thought of getting back on the bed. He shook his head, what was he thinking ? It was barely a few meters away.

He made a step forward, grabbed the wall for support when he tripped on the rug, it was the first time he ever tripped on this rug, and slowly made his way to the bathroom. He was exhausted, his back hurt, it had always hurt since he acquired his tentacles, but recently the pain had became a lot more overwhelming, and even when he didn't summon them, like now, it still hurt, even if the tentacles weren't there. He never summoned them when he was at home, he didn't want to bump into things. He knelt in front of the bathtub and opened the faucet, watching the warm water run for a while before starting to get undressed, sitting on the floor. He looked at himself in the mirror, inspecting his bones in search for any cracks, maybe he had been hurt after all, maybe he just didn't notice, but everything was fine, there was no injuries.

When the tub was full he closed the faucet, grabbed some essential oils bottle to put some drops in the bath, and finally got in, sighing in relief as he felt the warm water sooth the pain away. He closed his eye, relaxing a bit, he focused on the different emotions in the castle and only felt peace and contentment. Good. That meant his boys weren't having any bad dreams, they were sleeping peacefully. He would always make sure they were okay, they were all that he had, they were his family, he would always protect them, no matter what.

He relaxed in the tub for a good hour before getting up, the water was cold now. He grabbed a towel to wrap himself in and got out of the tub, letting the water drain in the pipes. After only two steps he grabbed the sink for support, his legs were shaking badly. He muttered a curse under his breath, bending over to grab a short and a t-shirt for the night which he struggled to put on before getting out of the bathroom.

He flopped on his bed and crawled under the covers, maybe tomorrow he will feel better, he just needed to sleep a little...

When the sun shone through the curtains Nightmare let out an annoyed growl, he was still feeling so heavy, his back still hurt and his legs... weren't hurting... he didn't feel anything in his legs... His eye shot open as he sat up straight, throwing the covers aside. His legs were still there. Of course his legs were still there, how stupid could he be, thinking they would have disappeared ? He tried to sit on the edge of his bed, but nothing happened, he didn't move...

- What the f#ck... ?

He muttered, stress starting to settle in his soul as he tried in vain to move his legs. His breath fastened slightly, he brushed his hand against his tibia, he could barely feel it, he tried again on the other leg, rubbed his feet, his femur, his knees, but he didn't feel the touch, he was just... numb.

He grabbed the nightstand in a hurry pulling himself out of bed by force, his soul was beating too fast for him to remain calm. He fell, taking a lamp with him in his fall, it shattered on impact, he tried to get up again, to hold onto the nightstand and push on his arms to get up, to stand on his legs, but they didn't move and he fell again, his breath was erratic. What was happening ? What was happening to him ? Why couldn't he move his legs ? Why couldn't he get up ? Was that a nightmare ? Was he gonna wake up soon ? His arms hurt, it wasn't a nightmare.

- HORROR !!!

He yelled on the top of his magic lungs without thinking about it, feeling tears forming in his eye. Was he going to die ?

His door shot open, a very panicked Horror hasted in his room, for his boss to scream like that, something bad surely happened. His red eye quickly scanned the room before he spot Nightmare on the ground next to a broken lamp.

- I can't move them.. ! I can't.. !

Nightmare struggled to say, shocking on his tears, he couldn't form any coherent sentence, clearly having a panic attack. Horror rushed to him, he had never seen Nightmare in such a state...

- It's okay boss, I'll carry you to your bed.. ! Don't move.. !

He tried to reassure him as he gently but rapidly took him in his arms to lift him off the ground, sitting him on the bed and sitting next to him. Nightmare clung onto his henchman's jacket, burying his face against his chest, praying that it was in fact a bad dream. Horror held him in his arms, not understanding what was going on, all he knew was that his boss needed comfort so he would give him that. He gently rubbed his back, letting Nightmare cry against him.

- It's okay boss.. I'm here..

He gently soothed, feeling the little body of the black skeleton shaking like a leaf against him. When Nightmare finally managed to catch his breath and cease his crying, which took a few minutes, he looked up, still shaking slightly, only to see that his two remaining henchmen were in his room too, worried by all the noise, Dust looked like he just woke up, still in his pajamas. He didn't like that. He didn't like worrying his teammates, he was supposed to protect them, not make them worry. Killer was the first to speak.

- What happened ?

Nightmare took a few seconds to answer, he still didn't want to believe it himself, but the proof was that he was still trying to make his legs move without success.

- I can't feel my legs...

He answered with a weak voice, a voice he hated more than anything, a voice that reminded him of just how pathetic he could be, just like when he was a kid.

- What do you mean you can't feel your legs ?

Dust asked, a little confused.

- I can't feel them.. ! I can't feel any touch, I can't move them, I can't stand up, I.. !

- Shhht, calm down, take a deep breath..

Horror cut him, feeling him tense again. Nightmare pressed himself against the bigger skeleton, as much as he hated showing such vulnerability, he really needed comfort right now...

Killer frowned, looking at him almost accusingly.

- I told you to get a check up, you were hurting too much for it to be normal.

- You're not helping.

Dust scolded him. Nightmare was already in a bad state, no need to point at what he should have done, he already knew it.

- Horror, go make him something to eat, I'll help him get dressed, Killer try to see if you can find something in an AU to help him walk.

Dust commanded, he was the most responsible out of the three, he was kinda the second in command when Nightmare couldn't assume his leader role, like now. Killer scowled, he didn't like receiving orders from someone other than Nightmare, but for now he clearly couldn't think straight and they needed to help him, so he obliged and teleported in an AU to steal something.

Nightmare first tightened his grip on Horror's jacket when he felt him move but quickly let him go when Dust took his place. He watched as the big skeleton left his room.

- You feel like going to the bathroom or you want me to bring you your clothes here ?

Nightmare looked at Dust, he almost expected mockery, but Dust was genuine, he sincerely wanted to help. The goopy skeleton shook his head.

- Bring it please..

Dust nodded and went to the bathroom looking for his boss's clothes. Nightmare looked at him go, confused, he trusted them of course, but deep inside he was always so scared that they might leave him if he became too weak, that they might laugh at him for showing vulnerability like they laughed at him. The villagers. They would always mock him, make him feel weak and pathetic, he hated that, he hated that feeling, he wanted to be strong, to fight back, but he just couldn't, they were stronger than him, always.

Dust came back, clothes in hand.

- You need help ?

Nightmare was cut in his sad memories. He looked up at him.

- No, thank you..

- I'll turn around while you change, if you need help just ask.

Nightmare nodded, grabbing the clothes. He waited for Dust to turn his back before taking off his t-shirt, putting on a sweater and his jacket, then he stopped, looking at his legs. He tried to move them. Nothing happened. How was he going to take off his short and put on his sweatpants ? He looked up at Dust again, maybe he could ask him... ? No. No he wouldn't ask him. Dust wasn't a nurse, he was his henchman, it wasn't his job to get him dressed. He could do it himself, no need to bother him. He crawled on the middle of his bed and tried to push on his arms just enough to lift his pelvis off the mattress and slide off his short.

- You sure you don't need help ?

Dust asked, hearing the noise of the bedsheets.

- Yes.

Nightmare blushed, he was in his underwear, Dust couldn't turn around now ! He sat up again, tried to move his legs, failed, and manually lifted his knees in front of his ribcage to slide his feet in the leg holes of the sweatpants. He didn't even feel the cotton of the pants against his legs, it was like he was dressing the air and not himself, it didn't feel right. He then did the same thing he did to take off his short: lifted his pelvis as much as he could to pull the pants up. All that just for a pair of pants... what a waste of time. If only he had listened to Killer when he told him that it wasn't normal for his back to hurt this much, but he was just too stubborn to admit that the pain was barely bearable. To admit being weak.

- I'm done...

- Yeah ?

Dust turned around again, pleased to see that the goopy skeleton managed to dress himself alone, not that he wouldn't have helped, but it would have been awkward for both of them. He got closer to him and knelt in front of the bed, turning his back again.

- Put your arms around my shoulders, I'll carry you to the kitchen.

Nightmare looked at him, hesitantly getting closer to the edge of the bed.

- You're sure... ?

- You still can't move your legs, can you ?

No, he couldn't. He tried again and he still couldn't.

- Come one, you know Horror doesn't like it when we make the food wait.

Horror had strict rules with food, such as: no waste, two meals a day minimum, everyone eats together, and when the food is ready no one should be late or else it would be cold. Nightmare didn't want to upset the bigger skeleton so he reluctantly wrapped his arms around Dust's shoulders and watched him grab his legs to wrap them around his waist. Good thing he didn't have his tentacles summoned, he was much lighter and easy to carry without them.

It felt wrong. It felt so wrong to be carried like that, like a baby who couldn't move by himself. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. He just wanted to dissappear right now, to go to sleep and not wake up until all of his problems were gone.

Dust sat him on a chair, in front of the kitchen table. Horror had already put a plate in front of him: pancakes, he also had a cup of hot cocoa.

- Thanks...

Sometimes he felt like he didn't deserve them, he didn't deserve their love, their kindness, he deserved nothing... but he was so damn glad he had them because he loved them oh so dearly...

Killer teleported back in the kitchen, a wheelchair next to him. Nightmare looked at it. He didn't like it. He didn't want to sit in a wheelchair. He didn't want that, it was too... too much, too drastic, he didn't want that, he didn't want to just give up on his legs just yet. He felt his eye tingle. He didn't want to cry either, not again. He blinked to chase the tingling sensation away.

- I don't want that thing.

- It's the most suitable for you right now.

Killer countered. Nightmare frowned, blinking again.

- Why didn't you bring a cane ? Or at least crutches ?

- Because you need to at least be able to stand up to use those and you obviously can't.

Killer didn't have any filters when he talked, that was one of the side effects of not being able to feel fully, he was brutally honest because he didn't care if he hurt someone with the truth, it was always better than lying.

Nightmare blinked. One time. Two times. When he spoke his voice was shaking.

- I don't want a wheelchair.

- You don't really have another option right now.

- Killer.

Horror stopped him, seeing how Nightmare's hands had begun to shake.

- It will be temporary, just the time we find another solution.

He tried to reassure him. Nightmare looked at him, he doubted there would be another solution.

- You won't have to go outside with it, no one has to see you.

Nightmare didn't want anyone else to see him like that anyway.

- I'm gonna put you on it, okay ?

Horror said as he got closer to him. His breath fastened when the bigger skeleton lifted him from the chair to help him settle on the wheelchair. He felt his soul clench, his ribcage burn and his cheeks tingle again. He tried to move his legs, to show he didn't need this wheelchair, that he could still walk... nothing happened.

Dust left the kitchen to get dressed.

Horror took the empty plate and cup to wash them.

Killer went to the living room, feeling he wouldn't be of any help in the kitchen.

Nightmare didn't move.

He tried to move his legs.

Nothing happened.

He looked down.

A tear fell on his hand.

Was this going to be his life now ? Was he gonna spend the rest of eternity on a f#cking wheelchair ? It was ridiculous. He was the king of nightmares, the guardian of negativity ! And he just couldn't walk ? He could alter the balance of the whole multiverse but he couldn't move his legs ? The villagers would have loved to hear that. He felt so useless right now.

He stayed in the kitchen all morning, unable to bring himself to push on the wheels.

The week passed slowly, it was like he was in a fog all day, trying to move his legs, failing, trying again, failing again. His boys helped him as much as they could, grabbing things that were to high for him to reach, helping him with the stairs... he felt numb. All over. He couldn't bring himself to face the mirror, he didn't want to see his reflection, he didn't want to see these wheels.

He was in the library, he wanted to clear his thoughts, think of something else. He looked at the books, the one he wanted was on a shelf, a little high, he couldn't reach it when sitting down. He didn't want to call. He wanted to grab his book himself. He didn't want to be dependant.

He sat on the edge of the wheelchair, grabbing the shelf in front of him and pulling on his arms to lift his body, using the shelves as a sort of climbing hold. He stretched his free arm to the maximum and managed to grab the book. The wheelchair rolled back. He lost his grip on the shelf.

Horror heard a loud noise coming from the library, and he knew that the only ones to go to that room were Dust and Nightmare, and Dust was currently in the living room. He rushed, worried. What had Nightmare done ? Did he hurt himself ? When he entered it didn't take long for him to spot Nightmare on the ground, a book in hand and the wheelchair two meters away. The pieces assembled quickly. He sighed, coming to his side to help him sit on the chair again.

- Why didn't you call us ?

- I can do it myself.

- Was falling part of the plan ?

Nightmare's grip tightened on his book, he was looking at the ground. He felt so dumb. He felt like such a burden everyday, he wanted to do something himself, but of course he failed to do that too.

- Nightmare...

He looked up, Horror rarely called him by his name.

- Don't be scared to ask for help, we're here for you...

He knew he was being genuine when he said that.

- I don't want to bother you...

His voice was barely a whisper. He didn't like always calling for help, always monopolizing them, being so dependent on them, it just didn't feel right to him...

- You don't bother us. You never bothered us and you will never bother us. Okay ? We care about you, we're happy to help. You're not a burden to us. Don't forget that.

Nightmare felt his eye tingle again, but this time, he only felt warmth in his soul, hearing these words felt good... really good...

- You want me to make a pie for tonight ?

Horror changed the subject. Nightmare looked at him a little longer before nodding, making Horror smile.

- Okay, and if you need help, call us, will you ?

He nodded again. Horror gently pat his skull before leaving the library.

Nightmare was lucky to have them, he knew that, and as much as he hated his condition, at least, he wasn't alone...

- end -

[t-bird510]

AU where Everyone is trapped in their worst nightmares and everyone is asleep.

I can see LOTS OF ANGST!!!

And the concept seems interesting! I like this AU concept!

And it can work for any AU which is a plus!

Also! Have a good day! :D

[xstarvibezx]

Warnings

Traced art, Blood, knife, Hanahaki Disease(implied probably?)

Redrew this Nightmare piece that I made years ago, back in my tracing days.

Traced(top) and redraw/my own(bottom).

[musenilla]

'Always an angel, never a god.' -

Princess Luna my belovedddd. 'Not Strong Enough' is VERY Celestia/Luna coded you can't convince me otherwise. + enjoy some cute extra LunaxTempest art dump to soothe from the Luna angst. I would loveee to info dump my headcanons for Luna but its 5 am rn and I cant type any furtherehf

[critterbitter]

Sometimes, it's lonelier when you're in a crowd you can't understand. Elesa, who struggles with the language divide and being hard of hearing, solves this by simply refusing to engage.

BONUS! The twins did not get their starters yet. They think Elesa’s so cool and stoic. This is a hilarious misunderstanding.

Want something funnier? Here's my submas masterpost!

[itsxroxannex]

It's the grandpas 😔 I'm not crying, I don't cry.

This song hurts me deeply.

Dream and Nightmare belong to Jokublog

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Completed Draxum's Nightmare Comic!

CW: PTSD, nightmare, anxiety attacks, implied character death, trauma, Mikey's hands do the snap-crackle-pop-glowstick thing

I had a fun time creating this miniseries comic, answering interesting asks about writing Draxum's character and angst ideas, and just seeing people fall to their knees over the angst I fed them.

Thanks for reading! See ya in the next comic!!

Now go get some rest.

[aphel1on]

AURGH auwarghh the autistic parental trauma... the epi was wacky hijinks then dropped this on us out of nowhere... (sobs) laios... laiiiiooooos

[strangled-slytherin]

Buried in Books

Summary: Theo finds you asleep on your books in the library after a long night of studying and insists on taking care of you.

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: None

It was late, well past curfew, but the library was still and quiet, save for the soft sound of Theo’s footsteps as he wandered through the rows of dusty bookshelves. He had been looking for you for the past hour, mildly annoyed but mostly concerned. You’d promised to meet him in the common room to go over notes for Potions, but when you didn’t show up, Theo knew exactly where you’d be—buried in a pile of books, probably lost in your studies.

As he turned the corner into one of the smaller study alcoves, his suspicions were confirmed. There you were, seated at a small table, surrounded by textbooks, parchment, and ink bottles. But you weren’t reading. Your head was resting on your folded arms, face turned to the side as soft breaths escaped your lips. You had fallen asleep, completely knocked out after what must have been hours of hard studying.

Theo paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement, his initial annoyance fading as he watched you sleep so peacefully amidst the chaos of your schoolwork. He shook his head, a fond smile pulling at his lips despite himself. You always did this—pushed yourself too hard, determined to get every detail just right, to master every spell and every potion. But sometimes, you didn’t know when to stop.

He approached quietly, his movements careful not to disturb you just yet. He could see the faint smudges of ink on your fingers and even a light streak on your cheek from where you’d likely brushed your hand across your face at some point. Your hair was slightly mussed, and the way you were slumped over the table looked far from comfortable.

Theo’s gaze softened as he knelt down beside you, his eyes taking in the sight of you, your peaceful expression as you slept, completely unaware of the world around you. He sighed quietly, feeling a mixture of fondness and exasperation. You always worked so hard, and he admired that about you—but Merlin, did you need to take better care of yourself.

Gently, he reached out and moved a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers light and careful, not wanting to wake you just yet. The simple action felt oddly intimate, and Theo hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering in the air before he pulled it back, clearing his throat softly.

"Y/N," he whispered, leaning in closer so that only you could hear him. "Come on, love, you can’t sleep like this. You’re going to wake up with a stiff neck."

You stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, your brow furrowing in your sleep, but you didn’t wake. Theo chuckled quietly under his breath, shaking his head. Typical. He wasn’t sure how you could sleep so deeply on such an uncomfortable surface, but somehow you managed.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, pushing the books aside carefully to make room for you. He stood up and gently slipped his arm under your shoulders, lifting you up just enough to coax you out of your awkward sleeping position. "Let’s get you somewhere a bit more comfortable."

You blinked groggily, starting to wake up as you felt yourself being moved. "Theo?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you rubbed your eyes, looking up at him in confusion. "What… what time is it?"

"It’s late," Theo replied, his tone soft but teasing. "Late enough that you shouldn’t be here, passed out on your textbooks like this. Come on, let’s get you back to the common room."

You blinked again, still disoriented and not fully awake. "I was just… studying," you mumbled, your head lolling back toward the table as if you were ready to fall asleep again.

Theo smirked, keeping his arm around you as he gently pulled you to your feet. "Yeah, I can see that," he said, amusement lacing his voice as he guided you away from the table. "But you’re not going to learn much if you’re asleep on your notes."

You groaned softly, leaning into him as you rubbed at your eyes. "I didn’t mean to fall asleep," you muttered, half-apologetic and half-embarrassed. "I was just trying to get through the chapter on antidotes…"

Theo rolled his eyes, though his expression was more affectionate than annoyed. "Of course you were," he said, shaking his head. "You work too hard, Y/N. You need to sleep, not drown yourself in textbooks."

You gave him a sleepy smile, though your eyes were still heavy with exhaustion. "But I have to be ready for the exam," you protested weakly, your words slurring slightly as you leaned more heavily into Theo’s side.

"The exam’s still days away," Theo replied, his voice gentler now as he led you through the dimly lit corridors, back toward the Slytherin common room. "You’ll be fine. You always are."

You hummed in response, not really arguing but not entirely agreeing either. You were too tired to put up much of a fight. "Thanks for coming to get me," you murmured, your head resting against his shoulder as you let him guide you.

Theo glanced down at you, his lips quirking into a small smile. "What else would I do? Leave you to drool all over your books?"

You gave him a sleepy laugh, shaking your head. "I wasn’t drooling," you mumbled, though the blush on your cheeks suggested you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not.

Theo chuckled, his grip on you tightening just slightly as he helped you down the last flight of stairs. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night," he teased.

When the two of you finally reached the common room, Theo helped you over to one of the cushioned sofas by the fire. He knelt down in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he studied your face, making sure you were more comfortable now.

"You’re exhausted," he said softly, his voice losing its teasing edge. "Get some rest. We can go over the Potions notes tomorrow."

You nodded, your eyes already half-closed as you curled up on the sofa, the warmth of the fire making it impossible to stay awake any longer. "Okay," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. "But don’t let me oversleep."

Theo smiled, standing up and grabbing a nearby blanket to drape over you. "I won’t," he promised, his voice soft. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on you as you drifted back to sleep, looking far more peaceful than you had back in the library.

As he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder one last time, a quiet smile on his face. "Goodnight, Y/N."

And with that, Theo settled into a nearby armchair, pulling out his own books—just in case you needed him when you woke up.

[snowballseal]

Nightmares and Memories

Sylus X Reader

Summary: Based on some theories I've seen on the Sylus flashbacks - After remembering what happened in the past with Sylus, you end up having a nightmare about the events of that night. You wake up calling his name, and he helps bring you back from the edge. Angst with a fluff ending.

Word Count: 1670

Warning: repeated mention of blood - it's Sylus lore y'all, soooo yah, prepare accordingly. It's purposefully pretty vague in terms of lore cause obviously we don't know what happened, but the ANGST!!!

---

There’s…so much blood….

It seems to come from nowhere, seeping between your fingers endlessly, dripping down your arms to pool on the ground around your knees. It’s sticky and warm, like thick mud, clinging to your skin, staining your palms. The smell of iron and smoke fills your nose, coats your tongue, so heavy you choke on it.

You want to scream. You need to scream. But your voice is locked in your chest. You can’t breathe. Cinders dance around you, like little fireflies, only to sizzle out as they hit the blood. Even when you look around, the smoke is so thick, all you can see are piles of rubble, not even the sky.

Where are you? Where is-

The world spins. You feel yourself tilting, your stomach lurching up to your throat. When you reach out, desperate to steady yourself, to stop the spinning, to stop all of this, your hand wraps around something hot to the touch, metal. Encrusted jewels dig into the skin of your palm.

The hilt of a sword.

You choke out a sob, blurry eyes flashing up to the figure lying in front of you. His chest heaves, dark tendrils spreading across his skin from where the sword pierces his flesh.

Blood. So much blood. You have to stop the bleeding. You can’t be the cause-

“You must press on.”

No no no

You try to let go of the sword, desperate to do something, anything. But a large, clawed hand wraps around yours, keeping you locked there. Locked to this fate. This fate you don’t want. Another choked sob escapes you as you fight to free yourself, to help him, but he holds you steady. Always so steady, even after you-

“If you don’t…there’s no going back.”

You want to scream. You want to beg him not to make you go. Not to make you leave him, not like this. You don’t want to, you can’t. Not him. Not-

“Sylus!”

You lurch up in bed.

Panic chokes you. It numbs your mind, clings to you as a fine layer of sweat on your skin, just like the blood in your dream. You scrub at your face, desperate to get rid of the feeling. Get rid of the red still creeping at the edges of your vision. It’s all you can think about.

You don’t feel the cool, silk sheets pooling around your waist. You don’t notice the crow peering at you worriedly from the corner. You don’t even hear the sound of your broken sobs, body shaking with the impossible burden of getting air to your lungs.

All you can hear is the voice ringing in your head.

You left him. You left him. You killed him.

No, that wasn’t-

You forgot.

You didn’t mean to!

Your fingers dig into the meat of your arms, nails pressing deep into your skin. Everything blurs out of focus, your head spinning too much. You need something to hold on to, but you can’t bring yourself to reach out. As if doing so will put you right back there. There in the smoke, the blood, with that cursed blade in your hands. You can’t. You just-

“-ten? (Y/n)!”

A hand clasps your shoulder, gentle but firm.

You gasp and rip yourself away, eyes darting up to meet a pair of red eyes. The ones you had just been so desperately staring into. It takes a while for your mind to even process that this is real.

“Sylus?”

Sylus leans back slowly, hands held up in a placating gesture. As if you’re a frightened, little doe. Which you more than resemble to him right now. Eyes wide and glassy. Your entire body shaking like a leaf. Brow furrowing, concern flickers deep in his chest.

Finding you in such a state has him feeling…off-kilter. And the way you recoiled, as if his touch had burned you, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He feels useless in the face of your pain and confusion, and there’s nothing Sylus hates more than being complacent, especially with you.

“You had a nightmare,” Sylus explains, keeping his voice low and calm, like soft thunder in the distance. Anything to not scare you further. “Do you remember where you are?”

You take a deep, trembling breath, nodding, “Yah, yah, um, this is- we’re home.”

“That’s right. We’re home.” Carefully, Sylus lowers himself onto the bed. He tries to ignore the way you shuffle back, his fingers curling into fists on top of his knees.

You don’t miss the flicker of pain in his eyes. Guilt stabs at your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to reach out and comfort him. Not when you can still feel the phantom blood covering your fingers. His blood. It was your fault. All your fault. You were the one who put that sword in his chest.

“Hey, eyes on me, kitten. I don’t want to see you wandering off right now.” The deep timber of Sylus’ voice draws you back. You take another deep breath, not realizing that you had started to hyperventilate again. Sylus hums approvingly,  “That’s my girl. Now, why don’t you tell me what happened, hm?”

Your eyes fixate on one of the buttons of his shirt. Second from the top. It helps, if only a little, so that when you answer, voice strained from how raw your throat is, you don’t get swept away again, “It was- It was that night all over again.”

That’s all it takes for Sylus to understand. 

Breathing out a low sigh, an unspeakable sadness softens Sylus’ features. Of course that’s what would bring you to this. The distance you give him makes sense now, as does the doubt burning behind your gaze. And why your eyes have barely left his chest since you realized it was him.

Like you’re scared of what you’ll see there.

“...Do you need to see with your own eyes that it was just a dream?”

You force your gaze up to his, hesitating. But Sylus is already stripping off his shirt, movements calculated and slow. He tosses the fabric somewhere across the room. You freeze, eyes staying locked with his. Too scared to look down. Too scared to see what your panic soaked mind still expects.

“Look.”

Unbidden, your eyes trace back down, over his jaw, along his neck, all the way past his collarbone to the smooth expanse of his chest. No dark veins. No blood. Just a shallow divot over his heart, a shadow. You watch the way his chest rises and falls, noticing each time his breath wavers, your own heart jumping each time, as if he’ll suddenly stop breathing. But he doesn’t.

Still, the anxiety plagues you. Your fingers twitch against your arms, desperate to feel him, to find his heartbeat and burn it into your memory in place of this horrid dream.

You look back up at him, the question written on your face. Sylus bites back a smile, giving you a nod instead.

He doesn’t reach out just yet as you shuffle out from under the sheets, crawling across the bed to perch next to him. Though it takes everything in him to stay still as your fingers hover over his chest. You can’t help but hesitate, looking up again.

“Go ahead,” he hums, “Feel for yourself.”

His skin is warm. So warm. You let out a trembling sigh, palm pressing flat against his chest. Seeing it was one thing, but feeling it - the steady rise of his breathing, the rhythmic beat of his heart under your fingertips, the proof that he’s alive and safe - is enough to bring the tears flooding back. 

He’s okay.

All the tension, all your strength, leaves you in a small, broken sound. You crumble into Sylus’ arms. He catches you with ease, finally drawing you into his lap, where he had wanted to hold you from the beginning. 

You clutch onto him, unable to stop the flow of apologies that spring to your lips, “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, Sylus. I didn’t- I didn’t-!”

“I know,” he hums, hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. “What’s done is done, there’s no need to hold on to it. All that matters is that you’re here now.”

“But I-”

“You have my forgiveness. So just…” His pulse stutters under your fingers. “-keep coming back from now on. No matter what.”

His words are the weakness of your heart. You hold onto Sylus tighter, feeling his grip tighten just as desperately around you. Time passes like that for what feels like hours, until you’ve cried all your tears, and exhaustion weighs down your eyelids. He notices, a relieved smile curling his lips.

“Come, let’s get you back to bed,” he murmurs, “you need a few more hours of sleep if you want to fight Wanderers in the morning.”

You jolt a little at the thought of going back to sleep, eyes flickering open again, but Sylus calms you with a soft hum and a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, lips brushing your skin, “I’ll stay and scare away any nightmares that come. You’ll never have to go through that again.”

His words carry a double meaning. An unbearable fondness washes over you as you look into those ruby eyes, gleaming with a hard determination that is so completely Sylus. Your Sylus. Of course he’ll always protect you. And you’ll protect him from now on.

The two of you settle back into the comfort of the bed. Sylus never lets you go, making sure you’re curled against him, ear pressed to his chest so that you can listen to his steady heartbeat as you drift off.

As you do, you whisper one last thing, wishing you could imprint your words into his heart, “I’ll always come back to you, Sylus. Promise.”

He lets out a soft rumble into your hair, watching as your eyes flutter shut, “And I’ll always be here waiting for you.”

In every life.

---

Sorry not sorry. I'm obsessed with what we've seen of this man's lore and I just know its going to hurt SO much.

[reds-skull]

There's a lack of Gaz angst out there I feel, so I'm doing my part and letting him suffer as well.

[swiftmitsu]

either brothers could be saying it ehehe

[zu-is-here]

Commission for @help-im-a-gay-fish ☆ Thank you so much for your support! (๑>◡<๑)♡

“Round and Round...” series by help-im-a-gay-fish

Nightmare by jokublog

Killer by rahafwabas / rahaf-wabas / rahofy-sketch

[unboundprompts]

Hey, I was wondering how to write nightmares, or sleep paralysis for my next story.

How to Write Nightmares and Sleep Paralysis

Causes of Sleep Paralysis:

Insomnia

PTSD

Anxiety disorders

Panic disorders

Disrupted sleep patterns (ex: jet lag)

Family history

Symptoms of Sleep Paralysis:

Paralysis (duh)

Feeling outside of your body

Chest pressure (as if someone is standing on your chest)

Sense of suffocating or breathlessness

Feeling like there is something dangerous in the room

Nightmares vs Night Terrors:

When having a nightmare, you are likely to wake up during it and will possibly be able to recall the dream or parts of the dream.

When having a night terror, you will not wake up and you won’t be able to recall the dream in the morning.

Symptoms of Nightmares:

Fast heart rate

Shortness of breath

Sweat

Anxiety

Struggling to go back to sleep

Writing Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes darted around the room, quick as lightning. She could see the nightlight she kept in the corner, casting the far wall of her bedroom in a blue light. Then she saw it. It watched her with a thin smile. She tried to sit up, to scream, anything, but she was frozen. The thing noticed her distress, and it stalked towards her, limbs elongated and as dark as the shadows of her room.

He sat bolt upright in bed. His heart was pounding so hard he felt like it was going to break through his chest. He grasped at his shirt, gripping the fabric as tight as he could. His skin was slick with sweat, and he had to peel his clothing off.

They stared up into the eyes of something. It was standing on their chest, looming over them with an emotionless gaze. They couldn't move, their limbs stiff and refusing to listen to their mind pleading with them to run. And so they stared. And the thing stared back.

She woke up screaming.

He tossed and he turned, but no matter what he did or however many times he flipped his pillow over, he could not fall asleep. He was too afraid. Afraid of that same, damn, nightmare.

They ran a stressed hand through their hair as they tried to control their breathing. It was quick, and they felt more and more lightheaded with each passing second. There was nothing they wanted more than to go back to sleep, but every time they closed their eyes it was like they were transported back to that awful dream. They slowly pulled themselves from the bed and stalked to the shower. They knew there was no way they would be able to sleep again tonight, so they might as well start their day.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

[ky-landfill]

[mockerycrow]

Love your works! May I please get a "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere." with Ghost? Take your time, I love what you write!

400 Follower Celebration

—“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”— With Ghost

Summary: You’re apart of the 141 and Ghost recently had a near-death experience. You’ve been plagued with nightmares about the situation, but you try to hide it from him, feeling selfish about your night terrors. One night, you’re thoroughly convinced Ghost had actually died.

A/N: THANK YOUUU I KEEP BLUSHING ILY AND TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS

[WARNINGS: vomit, detailed nightmares, panic attack, gore, fake-death, angst, hurt/comfort.]

It was always the same nightmare. It was a repeat of that one mission months ago—nearly a year ago by now, where you and your team went to grab some important intel about a new uprising cartel that was showing some dangerous potential. It was a large compound, four floors including the basement, wide rooms with many blind-spots. Using your rifle equipped with a heat signature sensor, you swept room to room, leading your team through the building, putting anyone down who dared fired a bullet at you or your team.

You turn that familiar corner and your heart sinks. You’ve tried many times to change the course of this dream, but no matter how frantically you try to scream about what is waiting on the other side of that door, your mouth refuses to work until Ghost rumbles out, “I’ll take point.” You try to fight every muscle in your body to stop this, but it’s like the dream freezes until you continue down the.. “right path”. Quite literally is a living fucking hell for you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it except do what it wants you to do.

“Roger.” You mutter, backing up behind Ghost instead of staying in front of him and leading him the others. The others are always blank faced soldiers in this nightmare, but you know who is who. You pat his shoulder, aimming over him as you walk down the hall close together, hugging the wall. You’ve been through this so many times, you know to eye the floor and you watch the moment happen—Ghost steps on a pressure plate and—BOOM.

You’re always forced to watch it in slow motion; the wall being blown open right next to Ghost, watching the debris scatter everywhere, scraping yourself up as well as Ghost. He raises his arm to shield his face from whatever is happening, unable to process in time that a man wielding a sharp combat knife is pulling his arm back and comes down with it.

You watch the way the knife so easily slides into his rib cage, and it’s almost like you could hear it penetrating his lung like it did—but this time, the man rips the knife out and does it again and again and again—this has never happened before—Ghost’s falling to the ground, his blood splattering everywhere, fuck, it’s like the guy is trying to gut him—but you can’t move. You have to sit there and watch this man. plunge a knife in and out of Ghost’s chest until he finally decides to stab him deep and yank downwards, spilling his intestines and stomach—yet, his lifeless eyes keep eye contact the entire time.

Your eyes fly open, dizzy from your heart pounding and unable to focus, you throw the blanket off of you and you make your way out of whatever room you’re in—you’re too freaked out to know. Your chest aches and feels like there’s a hundred tons sitting on your rib cage, restricting your breathing. You keep walking until you bump into something and you manage to focus enough to notice it’s the bathroom door. Your hand shakily grabs the doorknob and opens it, and you already feel the vomit traveling up your throat.

You end up bent over the open toilet, body heaving with every exile of the contents of your stomach, which by this time of night is mostly just bile. Your head is spinning and your hands keep shaking and by this point, you really don’t care how clean this bathroom is. You lean your elbows on the toilet rim and hold your head in your hands, trying your best to stifle a sob, even though all you can smell and feel is his blood on your fingertips. Your tears drip down your cheeks and collect at your chin before dripping off.

You keep one arm on the toilet seat to keep your head propped up and the other goes around your stomach, which is twisting painfully inside of your gut, ripping another sob from you. You gag into the toilet, but you’ve already thrown everything you had inside. Your throat and nose burns from the stomach acid, but it doesn’t compare to the emotional pain of losing Ghost. You just stood there and watched him get gutted—why do you deserve to grieve when you could have prevented it in the first place? Someone killed the Ghost, and you let it fucking happen.

A large hand sprawls across the flat of your back which is accompanied by a low, gritty voice. Whoever it is says something, but you don’t quite hear them. It’s probably Price, trying to comfort you, trying to say there’s one thing you could’ve done to stop it, but you know there was something you could do, anything you could’ve done.

Price calls your name and you go to shove him away, but his hands wrap around your wrists, and the voice is more insistent. You choke on a sob and shake your head, struggling against him until you hear it—his voice. “Fuck, [Name], can you hear me?” Ghost’s voice. It’s his voice.

No. Your mind is playing tricks on you and you won’t fall for it, you won’t let yourself go through this horrendous grief for a second time. You try to curl up into a ball, wanting to grab at your hair or your clothes, just anything but be here. “Look at me.” His hands grab your face and force your face to look at him and..

It’s him. It’s Ghost.

All of your noises stop for a moment as you stare with wide eyes that are full of unfallen tears, eyes full of grief, all for him. Ghost stares back at you with uncharacteristically wide eyes, and you can see the way his hands are slightly trembling—he’s worried about you. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow when he sees your expression of anguish. “Hey—hey, what happened?” Ghost’s voice is so quiet, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks any louder. Your hands come up to his mask and touch it and you burst into a harsh sob again, throwing your arms around him.

Usually, Ghost would hesitate. He would be reluctant to reciprocate such personal touch, such desperation, but he pulls you close into his arms without a second thought. Your hands grab his shirt and you breakdown into his chest, wetting the fabric with your tears. His heart slipped a beat because he’s never seen you like this—has never seen you break down this horribly.

He’d be here when you were ready to talk about it, but for now he’ll stay to hold you until your shoulders stop shaking. Ghost moves to sit on his bottom and you whimper in fear, like he’ll leave. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”