~Creepypasta x Reader (One shots)~ Completed

Dark Link Part Two (Lemon)

"Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires."
― Macbeth, William Shakespeare

Darkness. Infinite, echoing darkness surrounded you. It laughed at you. It mocked you. One moment rose and fell like the tides of the sea, drawing you in before dragging you down to inky depths too suffocating to possibly fathom as you drowned; the next it simply stilled: unyielding pitch black as quiet as death and heavy as grave soil upon your tongue. Faces of the tormented, of the depraved, of the lonely and forgotten appeared in the curling shadows: whispering sweet nothings, murmuring like water running through a winding creek in a chilling calm before the storm before they vanished like smoke.

How long have you been trapped here? You hadn't a clue. In the shadows, the sense of time and dimension was warped to your human senses as you curled in your corner: back pressed against a solid wall you couldn't feel, legs crossed upon a wooden floor you could not see as the black simply engulfed all. The minutes faded into hours and the hours bled into days and nights all an endless blur of monotony and never ending ebony as you remained perfectly still, uncaring, unfeeling yet brimmed with tumultuous sensation locked behind the wall you built to keep them at bay.

You recalled the first time he threw you in this room, or rather, this void. It was some part of his special abilities so he said, controlling the shadows that swallowed the light. He was the keeper of the lonely, the forgotten. He was the salvation of the damned so he proclaimed, spreading divine chaos and bloodlust in his wake like black flame that charred the human soul and melted flesh from bone. In your mind, he was simply the monster that tore the life you had only begun piecing back together to shreds, something that had hatred burning deep within the very fibre of your being as your thoughts summoned his memory. He called himself Dark Link and he was your tormentor.

He tossed you in here as a punishment for disrespecting him in some way or another, or perhaps it was just for his own malicious entertainment he received at watching you suffer and wallow in the own darkness and mania of your mind. A part of you was aware of the fact that you completely lost your grip on reality, clutching blindly at straws to try and regain the precious sanity that had long fled the crevices of your mind beneath the crushing weight of the dark. At first, it was akin to simply falling, weightless, free of the chains and pain sense and reason shackled to your being. Then came the rush of hot and cold, the dance of demons that cackled and howled like rabid wolves in the periphery of your vision as your mind became a loose cannon of emotion and ludicrous thought that slipped and evaporated like water beneath the ruthless dessert sun before growing dense and sinking beneath the ice of incoming winter.

Losing your mind was nothing as one might perceive it to be. It made ridiculous sense one moment before falling to pieces the next, granting you moments of lucidity followed by aching hollow insanity. And he enjoyed watching your descent into hell, the sadistic bastard doing all he could to savour every moment as he toyed with you: stroking the flames of your hatred that still burned fervently behind the wall of numbness. Thankfully, presently you were spared from his cruel hallucinations: a horrid experience you did not care to repeat in your lifetime...

You gasped as you tumbled down into the cold plane of the latest hallucination, pain clawing at the walls of your mind to leave behind bloody trails of oozing gashes as you struggled to your feet, legs as weak as spaghetti beneath you as you struggled to comprehend the latest torture device you were about to face. When your (e/c) eyes finally adjusted from their blurry visibility, they widened in shock, your jaw falling slack in disbelief as you stared at the familiar buildings of your home town.

The rise and fall of charming edifices switching seamlessly from store to practices that were handed down from generation to generation in the close-knit community stood out against the aged and cracked tar of roads that were in dire need of work, though citizens manoeuvred about the potholes and fractures from years of experience and adaptation. People flocked the pavement as they walked off on their daily routine, you recognising some faces among the many even as some slipped through your fingers like water, the genial smile of recognition as they passed one another and greeted before engaging in light conversation.